seeing your letter, unless you are ashamed to shew it to me." I put it into her hands, though I trembled when I did so; but no words can describe her - passion. "What!" cried she, "at your age, forgetful of the timidity which you ought to feel, you have dared to become an authoress, to force yourself upon the notice of the public! How have I been deceived in you, whom I took for the most unobtrusive of beings; but I have no desire to have a literary lady about me; you will, therefore, Mademoiselle, prepare to leave my house." I burst into tears :-" Oh, Madame !" cried I," how little do you know of my heart! I call Heaven to witness, that motives far different to those which you imagine, induced me to write." To be brief, the disorder of Madame Dorval was a malignant fever, and even her dearest friends refused to come to see her from fear of catching the infection. I, however, never left her bed-side day or night; but on the twentieth day of her illness, and when she was pronounced out of danger, I sickened and was carried to bed. Immediately on the illness of Madame Duval, I had written to Eugenius, who hastened back to Paris. He arrived just as his aunt had recovered, and while my fever was at the height. Madame Dorval herself nursed me with the tenderest care. Regardless of the presence, or of the anger of his aunt, Eugenius rushed into my apartment, and throwing himself upon his knees by my bed-side.—“Oh! my Elise" cried he, "is it thus we meet?" Madame Dorval, no longer haughty or stern, "And what were these motives?" said she, approached her nephew, and with tears, begged with an air something less stern. I was too embarrassed to give an immediate answer; and Madame Dorval, who thought I trifled with her, began to reproach me. "Well, Madame," cried I; "have patience with me, and you shall know all." I then recounted to her the commencement of my acquaintance with Eugenius, the reasons which prevented our marrying, and the hope I had indulged that, by my exertions, I should, whenever we were united, be able to contribute to our support. But never, surely, was any thing so unlucky! Madame Dorval was the aunt of Eugenius, whose name he had never mentioned to me, and her indignation now exceeded all bounds; she raved at her nephew and at me alternately, and vowed that the next day I should quit her house. Frightened at the michief which I had done, I retired to my own room; but in the middle of the night I was roused by one of the female servants, who informed me that her lady was dying. I flew to her apartment, and found that she was delirious; I instantly sent for a lady who was on the most intimate terms with her, and also for an eminent physician; he came immediately, and declared her in great danger; but Madame Valcour had quitted Paris, and was not expected to return for some days. him to retire:-"Your Elise will recover, Eugenius," cried she; "Heaven will spare her to our prayers, and she shall yet be yours!" Scarcely could the transported Eugenius believe his senses. He instantly complied with her request; but he left my apartment only to fly to the house of the physician who attended me, and had he possessed the power of life or death, Eugenius could not more ardently have supplicated him to serve me. I was at last in a state of convalescence. I was allowed to see Eugenius. Oh, my friends! think what an excess of felicity was mine, when Madame Dorval herself placed my hand in that of my lover! "To your care, Elise," cried she, "I am indebted for my life, and I am most happy in thus rewarding you; but remember," continued she, with a smile, " that I make one condition-you must not write any more novels." "Novels!" cried Eugenius, "have you then Elise, written a novel." Madame Dorval now gave him the history of my literary attempt, but it was easy to see that he did not participate in his aunt's senti ments. The soft pressure of his hand, the intelligent expression of his fine dark eyes, plainly convinced me that I was, if possible, more dear to him since he knew that I had become an authoress from love. As soon as I recovered, I gave my hand to felicity; she left us the whole of her fortune. Eugenius, whom you have I suppose by this I had almost forgotten to tell you that my time found out to be Monsieur de Sainville; || uovel met with singular success, but I never aud from that period to the present my life wrote another; I had indeed no temptation to has been a singularly happy one. The death do so, since Eugenius stood in no need of an of Madame Dorval, who became much attach- addition to his income from my literary laed to me, occasioned some interruption to our bours. HISTORY OF COUNT ALMEIDA. BEING THE STORY ON WHICH THE NEW COMEDY OF "THE KISS," IS FOUNDED. IN the city of Florence lived the Count Almeida, a gentleman of much worth, of noble birth, and of large domains. He possessed from nature a most excellent understanding, and the careful attention, and affectionate anxiety of his father, had cultivated it by a finished education. He was accordingly master of all those points and accomplishments which are considered as constituting the perfect gentleman. What was wanting to the happiness of the Count thus gifted by nature and fortune? Nothing, but that he should possess in a wife a mind as accomplished and elegant as his own, and his parents were not negligent in providing him with one. In the same city, but in another quarter of the town, lived the Lady Urania, a young heiress of ample fortune, and of the most dis tinguished birth and beauty, and which were crowned by an education and natural talents that left nothing to be desired. Urania was in her eighteenth year, the Count was in his twenty-fifth, when the parents of the two families agreed to unite them. "One condition only is necessary," said the father of Urania. "Your young Count must render himself agreeable to my daughter, my consent only gives him the means of introduction. I love my daughter too tenderly to command in a concern in which the happiness of her whole life is at stake." maid she was more explicit,-the Count was there every thing she could wish. The addresses, thus auspiciously commenced, proceeded happily for some weeks, and a day was at length fixed for their union. Many things, however, between the cup and the lip. The Count was returning one night very late from a masquerade, and happened to pass by the back wall of the garden of the Lady Urania's father. A small gardeu gate opened into the fields. As the Count approached be thought he heard voices; he listened, and was certain. He approached nearer, when an unlucky coughing, which he could not suppress, alarmed the parties. The gate was shut in an instant; a female ran back into the garden, and a man rushed across the fields. The Count followed the man, came up with him, and seized him; the man, however, turned sud. denly round upon him, and striking him a blow in the face which overthrew him on the ground,-"Take that, Count," said he; "take that for your prying; and learn that there are others as happy as yourself."-Saying this he again betook himself to flight, and before the Count could sufficiently recover himself, was out of his sight. The Count, without any consideration that there might be other women in this house besides his mistress, immediately considered himself as having detected her falsehood; ac The condition was, of course, accepted.cused her of it at their next meeting, and then The parties were brought together, as if by accident, the same evening. Each was well pleased with the other. The young Count deemed Urania the most accomplished beauty he had seen. Urania acknowledged to her father that the Count was well enough. To her left her, nor came near her again, till chance discovered that the rencontre which had given him so much alarm was with his own servant, the lover of the waiting-woman of the Lady Urania. The Count then returned, and by dint of prayers, tears, &c. the artillery of Love in all countries and ages, procured his pardon and restitution to favour; and upon a promise that he would no more repeat such causeless jealousies, the day was even fixed. about it, and being very intent upon her work had not heard it. The Count would neither be satisfied nor persuaded. He was certain that he had heard it; and his jealousy per and from some lover of his wife. Nothing occurred to interrupt this reconci-suaded him that it proceeded from the bower, Fiation, and accordingly after the usual period of service and probation, the Count had the good fortune to lead the loveliest woman in Italy to the altar. Who was now so happy as the young Count Almeida? No one, for the first eighteen months of their union. A circumstauce then occurred which again threw every thing into confusion, and however trifling in its origin, had nearly proved fatal to their permanent happiness, and separated two people who in every respect seemed formed for each other. One very fine day, in the month of October, the Count had been passing the day in hunting the boar with his young companions, in one of the forests which at that period bordered upon the city of Florence: About sunset he returned; and full of spirits as well by the effect of the exercise as by his success in having speared a boar who had thrown himself upon him, he inquired of the servants for the Lady Urania, that he might present her with one of the tusks as the trophy of his gallantry and victory. The attendants replied, that they believed the Lady was in the bower in the bottom of the garden. The Count hastened thither. He searched the shrubbery. The search unhappily strengthened the probability of his` suspicions; there were certainly evident traces of a fugitive. The Count, however, could find no one. He returned to his wife; repeated his questions, and receiving the same answer, led her angrily to the house; and conducting her up to her chamber said:-" Consider this apartment, madam, as your prison till you have the goodness to satisfy me. I cannot persuade myself that you have actually completed my infamy and your own; but it is the part of a prudent man to take care of the beginning. What begins in a kiss may terminate in the worst of crimes. You stay there, therefore, till you inform me of the person from whom you received it. If it was any rash intruder, I will pardon you, upon condition of your avowal. Madam, farewel; you see me no more, except to bring you your daily food, until you are pleased to admit me to your confidence." Saying this the Count left the room, leaving his wife in a mingled emotion of grief and indignation:-the Count was in his senses; what did he mean by the noise of a kiss? Surely I must have heard it as well as bimself; kisses, indeed, do not make the same reports as a cannon, and as I was intent upon my muslin flower-making, It might have escaped me; but who could it be?-This kind of selfdialogue alternately comforted and confounded the Lady; and she threw herself on the bed, and fell asleep through pure fatigue of weeping and soliloquizing. This bower was in the midst of a shrubbery laid out as a labyrinth; it was the centre, as it were, of a hundred serpentine walks, which led from it and round it in every direction; it had often been the scene of the conjugal and modest endearments of the Count and his wife,|| and he was not altogether grieved that she was now there instead of being in the house. By means of one of the serpentine walks he approached unseen, and intended to steal on by surprise, when to his confusion he heard the smart noise of a hearty kiss as if proceeding from the bower. He rushed forward; his Lady, hearing the rustling of his approach, In the next house to the Count Almeida hurried from the bower, and met him before lived a citizen of the name of Ugolino. He he reached it. The Count, in an angry aud had made an immense fortunte in the trade of blind fury of jealousy, instantly demanded from a jeweller; and as it had been amassed by slow whom the kiss had proceeded? The Lady degrees, and in some respect by painful labour, replied very innocently, that she knew nothing" he put an over value on his acquired wealth It is necessary now to explain from whom this mischievous and tremendous kiss actually did proceed, for the Count was not deceived in his ears, as he was in his inferences from them. according to the difficulty of the acquisition; 66 Angelina soon found herself in a condition in which hopes and fears gave her a double inducement to a prudent management of her father's temper." My dearest Leander," she was accustomed to say, we shall soon have another to share with us in our poverty and wealth. Let us not injure the dear little stranger by our imprudent eagerness; let us wait with patience; do you cultivate my father's good will, and all will be ultimately well." Leander agreed to the wishes of his lovely wife. Their meeting, therefore, in the day time, were all in secret. But how was this effected? How was this possible when the doors of Ugolino's house were watched by a Duenna as vigilant and ill-natured as Hecate. There were means, however, and Leander had discovered them. Florence, in the early centuries of its history, had been the frequent theatre of many bloody wars and revolutions, during which family was set against family, and no one who went safely to his repose in the night could enjoy any certain assurance but that some city tumult, or some violence of his rival, would arouse him from his bed. As a security, therefore, against these surprises, every house almost had secret avenues by which there was a passage from the city into the fields. Ugolino's was one of the oldest houses and one of the most spacious in Florence; it had therefore one of these subterraneous galleries. Leander discovered it as he was one day broaching a cask of wine in the cellar. He treasured up the secret till a suitable opportunity, when he unbarred the rusty door, and, by following the avenue, found that its issue was in a garden, beneath a tree, which entirely concealed its exit. This garden was the garden of the Count Almeida; the tree was immediately adjoining the bower. By this avenue, therefore, the lovers left their father's house at pleasure, and soon found themselves undiscovered in the fields, where they enjoyed their own conversation and innocent caresses at pleasure. The reader now understands the secret of the kiss which had so much alarmed the Count Almeida, and led his jealous temper to suspect that his wife was at least guilty of an indecent levity, if not of absolute falsehood.-We return now to the unhappy lady. Leander's apartment was immediately adJoining to that of the imprisoned Countess. He had retired to his apartment, and was waiting in anxious expectation for the moment in which it was usual for him to go to his wife's chamber, when his attention was caught by the following exclamation from the Countess:"Whence could this kiss have proceeded? Was it the imagination of my hus band, or were any of my maids and my Lord's grooms concealed? But if there had been any one, would he not have been overtaken when so immediately pursued by my Lord? I am more confounded the more I meditate upon it. Be it what it may, this kiss has made me the most miserable of women." "What is all this mystery about a kiss?" said Leander to himself. "This is assuredly the Count Almeida's handsome wife. Of what kiss is this that she is talking so piteously?" Leander was not left long in the dark. The Count now entered his wife's room. "Madam," said he, "are you prepared to acknowledge to me from whom that kiss proceeded?" "From your own imagination, my Lord," said she; "for I know nothing more about it." "Madam," said he, "do not add to your guilt by falsehood. If I know any thing that is certain, it is that I heard a kiss, a loud welcoming kiss. It proceeded either from the bower or from the large alder tree which ad joins." "So, so," said Leander, "I begin to understand it now. Angelina, my love, when I gav you the parting kiss for the day, till we met again at night, I did not know that I should excite the jealousy of this blockhead, nor the misery of this lady." "Well, madam," said the Count Almeida, as he left the chamber, "you will have the goodness to make up your mind by to-morrow morning, or to a convent you go." And with these words he left the room. The Lady now threw herself on the sofa, and again wept over the unhappy effects Countess, as soon as she had recovered in some degree from her astonishment. "My name, madam," replied he, "is Leander; I am the husband of Angelina your neighbour Ugolino's daughter. Our marriage, however, is private, and not known to her fa ther." "What is all this to me, Sir?" said the Countess. "And how came you here?" "I came, madam, from that open panel; and you have more to say to this than you at present imagine. I have no business here, madam, but to serve you; I overheard your distress and its cause, and my explanation can at once terminate it. The kiss, madam, which has caused you so much misery, was my property; at least was mine till I gave it to Angelina." tess. "How is that possible, Sir?" said the Coun"Were you in the bower? how did you get there? and how escape from thence?" "I will explain it all, madam," said he. At this moment a footstep was heard as if some one was ascending the stairs. "For Heaven's sake leave me, Sir," said the Countess; "it is my husband.” "No, madam," said he; "would it not be preferable that I should stay and explain it all" of this unknown kiss. Leander's heart was melted at the aspect of her sorrow; he was impatient to terminate it by the explanation which was in his power. He removed a panel which his close investigation of the whole house, in the early days of his love, had taught him where it rested. Through this he entered the apartment. The Countess's back was turned to him; she was kneeling at the foot of her bed, imploring Heaven to clear up the mystery." Ridiculous as the cause is," said she," it has made me the most miserable of women; it has estranged from me the heart of a husband whom, in spite of his injustice, II implore you to leave me without a moment's most affectionately love." "Madam," said Leander, softly approaching her, "Heaven has heard your prayers; behold your relief at hand!" The Countess rose in haste, terror, and astonishment! she would have cried out but that her tongue was fixed mute in her surprize. "Madam," said he, "be not alarmed. I am here only to be of service to you. I am a happy husband myself, and I wish to rende. And it is in my power to every one else so. clear up this mystery." "Who are you, Sir? whence do you come? and what do you do here?" exclaimed the "No, Sir," said she; "you know not to what excess the Count's passions lead him; should he see you here he would listen to We will take nothing but his resentment. further measures to avail ourselves of the explanation which you will have the goodness to give: for the present, as you are a gentleman, delay." "I obey you, madam," returned he. "Adopt me into your future service by giving me a pledge." "Away, Sir," said she; "take this," at the same time giving him a ring off her finger, which Leander accepted and immediately re |