STEWART
 
 LEMIRA OF LORRAINE, 
 
 & Romance. 
 
 IS THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 I sing of knights and ladies gentle deeds, 
 
 Whose praises having slept in silence long, 
 
 Me all too meane the sacred Muse areeds 
 
 To blazon broade emongst her learned throng: 
 
 Fierce wanes and faithful loves shall moralize ray song. 
 
 FAERY QUEENE. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR G. AND W. B. WHITTAKER, 
 AVE MARIA LANE. 
 
 1822.
 
 &. latfjittmgljam, Cfjigtoicfc.
 
 5F 
 
 LEMIRA OF LORRAINE. 
 
 to 
 
 CM 
 
 q: 
 
 CHAPTER T. 
 
 But thou, O Hope! with eyes so fair, 
 What was thy delighted measure? 
 Still it whisper'd promised pleasure; 
 And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail! 
 
 Collins. 
 
 " Can it be my brother?" exclaimed 
 Rosalie, starting from her seat, when 
 the loud peal of the bell at the gate of 
 ^ St. Maure's convent announced the ar- 
 rival of a visitor: then, peeping through 
 the closely grated window, she added, 
 "Ah! it is certainly Mellidor: but how 
 melancholy he looks! I fear that he 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 Z LEMIRA 
 
 brings no good news for his poor Ro- 
 salie!" 
 
 Breathing a sigh of gloomy antici- 
 pation, she then left the room ; but 
 the momentary sadness which dimmed 
 the sparkling vivacity of her black eyes 
 was instantly dispelled when she found 
 herself in the arms of her beloved bro- 
 ther, receiving and returning his ca- 
 resses of fraternal affection. 
 
 " Rosalie," said he, regarding her 
 with an eye of fixed attention, " I am 
 now come to acquaint you with your 
 parents' unalterable determination re- 
 specting your future destiny: but, be- 
 fore I reveal to you their will, let me 
 inquire whether your abhorrence to 
 the profession of the veil continues in 
 its former violence; or whether the de- 
 sire of performing an action so pleasing 
 to your father has not corrected your 
 ideas and softened your dislike to this
 
 OF LORRAINE. 3 
 
 secluded and religious life? Let me 
 entreat you, my love, to conceal no- 
 thing from a brother, the first wish of 
 whose heart is to render you happy." 
 
 " Ah, Mellidor!" she answered, " I 
 am certainly unworthy of becoming a 
 member of this holy community; for 
 I find that my aversion to the con- 
 tinual seclusion of a convent increases 
 rather than diminishes every day: I 
 ask not to reside at Paris ; or to enjoy 
 the pleasures and gaiety of the world ; 
 or to be dressed like my mother in 
 splendid attire; I only ask for liberty 
 to live in some sequestered spot, where, 
 free as the birds which will fly around 
 me, and gay as the flowers which will 
 spring beneath my eye, I shall not 
 envy the rich their palaces, or the 
 dissipated their pleasures. Can this 
 little request be denied ?" 
 
 " No," said Mellidor to himself; 
 b 2
 
 4 LEMIRA 
 
 "and therefore my fate is determined:" 
 then, taking his sister's hand, with a 
 look of tenderness he replied to her: 
 
 " Rosalie, your wish is granted, and 
 to-day you shall depart for a villa in 
 Lansniedoc, which I have desired to 
 be prepared for your reception; where 
 you may forget, amid the beauties of 
 nature, the severity and the gloom of 
 a cloister." 
 
 Scarcely had Mellidor concluded 
 his speech, than Rosalie, springing 
 round his neck, uttered incoherent 
 expressions of delight: but her effu- 
 sions of joy and gratitude were inter- 
 rupted by the sound of a carriage 
 which stopped at the gate, and by 
 the subsequent entrance of Madame 
 de Clairville, a distant relation of Ro- 
 salie's, who had constantly visited her 
 during her residence at St. Maure, and 
 who had always professed to feel for
 
 OF LORRAINE. 5 
 
 her the affection of a parent. Rosalie 
 immediately read in her benevolent 
 countenance that she was no stranger 
 to the happy change which had taken 
 place in her young friend's destination ; 
 and Mellidor did not long suffer his 
 sister to remain ignorant of the cause 
 of Madame de Clairville's sudden ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 " When I confide you, my dearest 
 Rosalie, to the care of this inestimable 
 friend, I am sensible that I confer on 
 you a most essential benefit; for, by 
 pointing out to your young mind the 
 beauties of virtue, she will eventually 
 secure to you the possession of true 
 and solid happiness. Farewell !" he 
 added, endeavouring, by the contem- 
 plation of his sister's delight, to recon- 
 cile himself to the sacrifice which he 
 designed to make; " business of im- 
 portance, which calls me into Bur- 
 gundy, will not allow me to accom-
 
 6 LEMIRA 
 
 pany you ; and so farewell, my Ro- 
 salie!" Then mounting his horse, in a 
 few moments he was carried beyond 
 the reach of their eyes. 
 
 Rosalie, with the animated spirits 
 of sixteen, anticipating years of joy in 
 the new world which she was now to 
 inhabit, hastened the preparations for 
 their departure; and, when in the 
 course of a few hours, every thing 
 was finally adjusted, she sprang with 
 a light step and sparkling eye into the 
 carriage, that quickly conveyed her 
 from the terrors of a cloister towards 
 those fairy scenes which her vivid ima- 
 gination had so strongly and so fre- 
 quently represented to her.
 
 OF LORRAINE. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Julia's a manager; she's born for rule, 
 And knows her wiser husband is a fool; 
 For difficult amours can smooth the way, 
 And tender letters dictate, or convey. 
 
 young's love of fame. 
 
 The Vicomte de Valmire was one of 
 that numerous class of the ancient no- 
 bility of France who possessed indeed 
 the advantage of high birth, but who 
 were obliged to submit to all the pri- 
 vations of indigence; and, having in 
 early youth contracted an imprudent 
 alliance with a lady of no fortune, he 
 was compelled to live with her in a 
 state of total seclusion until the event 
 of her death, which happened when 
 Mellidor, their only child, had at- 
 tained his seventh year.
 
 8 LEMIRA 
 
 Not long after the decease of his 
 wife the Vicomte married the daugh- 
 ter of a rich bourgeois, who had just 
 beauty enough to think herself hand- 
 some, however different might be the 
 opinion of the world, and just wit 
 enough to couduct an intrigue with 
 the most finished artifice and with 
 the most infallible success. With a 
 heart vacant, if not corrupt; a temper 
 irritable and capricious ; a mind vain, 
 extravagant, and thoughtless, without 
 judgment and without principle; she 
 was the prey of every novel frivolity, 
 and the victim of every occurring and 
 fashionable vice. At an early period 
 of their marriage the Vicomte disco- 
 vered the true character of her mind, 
 and having endeavoured, but in vain, 
 to direct her activity into another chan- 
 nel, and to induce her to perform with 
 propriety the duties of a wife and a 
 mother, he was obliged to resign her, 
 with the contempt her folly merited,
 
 OF LORRAINE. 9 
 
 to the pursuit of her own dangerous 
 and vicious projects. She abandoned 
 her child, without remorse, from the 
 first moment of her birth, because it- 
 was- not fashionable for a woman's at- 
 tention to be engrossed by so trivial 
 a concern as the welfare of her child ; 
 and the infant Rosalie would have 
 been consigned to the care of merce- 
 nary strangers, if the Vicomte, whose 
 character formed a striking contrast 
 k) that of the fair partner of his for- 
 tunes, had not fulfilled his duty in a 
 manner more conscientious, but less 
 consistent with the system of fashion. 
 To him, therefore, and to Madame de 
 Clairville, to whose care she was en- 
 trusted at her birth, was Rosalie 
 wholly indebted for those attentions 
 which had guarded her tender infancy 
 from harm: but though the Vicomte 
 was continually occupied with the 
 moral happiness of his children, his 
 fear of degrading the parental autho? 
 b 3
 
 10 LEMIRA 
 
 rity prevented him from bestowing on 
 them a word or a glance of kindness. 
 Inflexibly severe in the performance 
 of what his judgment assured him was 
 right, he never swerved from his duty 
 to please his inclinations, or to gratify 
 his feelings; and, while his contempt 
 of the follies and detestation of the 
 crimes of the world induced him to 
 avoid its society, his acquaintance was 
 not uufrequently declined in conse- 
 quence of the moroseness of his man- 
 ners and the rigidity of his virtue. 
 Towards his children his austerity was 
 peculiarly unbending ; and from Mel- 
 lidor, for whom he performed all the 
 most essential duties of a parent with 
 the greatest punctuality, he had con- 
 stantly withheld that confidential in- 
 tercourse which adds to the affection 
 of a sensitive child a double portion 
 of tenderness. The Vicomte's anxiety 
 to render his son the most perfect of 
 men induced him to keep this first
 
 OF LORRAINE. 11 
 
 object of his regard under his own 
 eye; and it was with his immediate 
 assistance and direction that the Abbe 
 de Fleurville executed the task of go- 
 vernor to the young nobleman. 
 
 From his father's lessons Mellidor 
 derjved liberal, but pious, sentiments 
 on religious subjects, principles of 
 high honour, integrity, and strict vir- 
 tue; while the natural sweetness of his 
 disposition, combining with the mild 
 precepts of his instructor, softened 
 his manner, and rendered his exterior 
 inviting to cordiality and friendship. 
 Possessed of a degree of valour which 
 sometimes amounted to rashness, to- 
 wards his father alone he was timid, 
 for his high ideas of filial duty would 
 not allow him to question the most dis- 
 putable of the Vicomte's actions: and 
 the immense distance, which had al- 
 ways been interposed between them,
 
 12 LEMIRA 
 
 prevented the young Mellidor from 
 offering the slightest objection to any 
 of his father's commands. 
 
 The Vicomte and his son were 
 sometimes visitors to Rosalie, both 
 while she remained with Madame de 
 Clairville, and after she was removed 
 to the convent of St. Maure, which 
 was preferred to a less distant place 
 of education, in consequence of a sis- 
 ter of the Vicomte's being at its head. 
 It was in this situation that Mellidor 
 became tenderly attached to his sis- 
 ter, and though the distance of a hun- 
 dred and forty miles, which separates 
 Paris from the small town of St. Maure, 
 prevented their constant intercourse, 
 yet his gentle and affectionate man- 
 ners soon conciliated her love, while 
 the severe countenance of her father 
 inspired her young and timid breast 
 with nothing but alarm.
 
 OF LORRAINE. 13 
 
 The monotonous life of a convent, 
 the grated windows, the severe man- 
 ners of the nuns, the restraint which 
 was visible throughout the whole esta- 
 blishment, united to impart to Rosalie's 
 active mind a distaste for the profes- 
 sion of the veil : and her imagination, 
 dwelling on the pleasures which, as she 
 supposed, were to be found in the 
 world, gradually matured her dislike 
 to the cloister into a rooted and in- 
 veterate aversion.
 
 14 LEMIRA 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 The tears capricious beauty loves to shed, 
 The pouting lip, the sullen silent tongue, 
 May wake the impassion'd lover's tender dread, 
 And touch the spring that clasps his soul so 
 
 strong; 
 But ah, beware ! the gentle power too long 
 Will not endure the frown of angry strife; 
 He shuns contention, and the gloomy throng 
 Who blast the joys of calm domestic life, 
 And flies when discord shakes her brand with 
 
 quarrels rife. 
 
 MRS. TIGHE'S PSYCHE. 
 
 When Mellidor had attained his twen- 
 tieth year his father declared to him 
 that his education was finished, and 
 that his mind and opinions were suf- 
 ficiently formed to render the lessons 
 of a tutor of no further utility.
 
 OF LORRAINE. 15 
 
 It was about this period that Mel- 
 liclor, reading in the gazette an ac- 
 count of a victory obtained by the 
 great Conde, exclaimed with fervour: 
 
 " Oh happy Conde! to have contri- 
 buted so gloriously to the honour of 
 your country! Fortunate indeed would 
 be my lot could I receive from your 
 lips those precepts of wisdom which, 
 in private life, teach you how to at- 
 tain to true happiness, while they ren- 
 der your name illustrious in the an- 
 nals of glory!" 
 
 The Vicomte, who heard his son 
 utter this spontaneous effusion, and 
 perceived that he became thoughtful 
 and melancholy, instantly visited the 
 Prince de Conde on his return from 
 the camp; and, having renewed an ac- 
 quaintance which had before subsisted 
 between them, proposed that Mellidor, 
 of whose talents and principles he
 
 16 LEMIRA 
 
 spoke in terms of praise, should have 
 the honour of serving under the com- 
 mand of a man who would unite the 
 character of a friend with that of a 
 general. To this proposition the an- 
 swer corresponded with the Vicomtes 
 wishes, and it was instantly agreed that 
 the young nobleman should become 
 one of the Prince's aide-de-camps. 
 The interview terminated with an as- 
 surance that Mellidor should appear 
 on the following day. 
 
 To Conde, who knew how to esti- 
 mate characters according to their in- 
 trinsic worth, the Vicomte de Val- 
 mire had always appeared in a light 
 different from that in which the world 
 had regarded him; and, through the 
 coldness of the Vicomte's demeanour, 
 the Prince could easily discover those 
 excellent qualities which were con- 
 cealed from the eye of a less pene- 
 trating observer. From his ideas,
 
 OF LORRAINE. 17 
 
 therefore, of the character of the fa- 
 ther he was disposed to think fa- 
 vourably of the principles of the son ; 
 nor was he sorry on being offered an 
 opportunity of softening that austerity 
 with which he supposed that the man- 
 ners of his new officer were tinctured 
 from the effects of the education which 
 he had received. When Mellidor, 
 however, to whom the communica- 
 tion of his appointment and future 
 destination had been the subjects of 
 the liveliest joy and gratitude, waited 
 on him on the following day, he was 
 agreeably surprised, in their subse- 
 quent intercourse, to find that the 
 young Valmire was as gentle in his 
 manners as he seemed to be firm in 
 his mind, and appeared to unite the 
 softness of the vernal air with the so- 
 lidity and resistance of the winter's 
 ice. Delighted with his conversation 
 the Prince dismissed him for the pre- 
 sent, and requested him to prepare hi*
 
 18 LEMIRA 
 
 father for their speedy separation, as 
 he should require his aide-de-camps 
 to be in readiness to accompany him, 
 in the course of a few weeks, on an 
 expedition, the object of which he 
 could not at that moment explain. 
 
 With a joyful heart the youthful 
 hero began his preparations for the 
 army ; which, under the command of 
 the great Conde, was shortly to be em- 
 ployed in the subjugation of Franche 
 Comte, then, for the first time, the ob- 
 ject of the ambition of Louis the 
 Fourteenth. 
 
 The enterprise was threatening with 
 dangers ; but no sense of danger could 
 deter Mellidor from partaking in his 
 brave general's conquests; and his si- 
 tuation in his father's house, where 
 the Vicomtesse regarded him as a 
 spy upon her conduct, was become so 
 disagreeable, that a change, less plea-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 19 
 
 sant than the one proposed, would 
 have been acceptable to him. 
 
 Immersed in pleasure,theVicomtesse 
 forgot that she had a husband and a 
 daughter, to whom she was account- 
 able for a part of that time which she 
 devoted to gambling and intrigue; until, 
 roused to a sense of the dangerous con- 
 sequences of his wife's conduct, by the 
 sudden refusal of his banker to accept 
 his drafts, the Vicomte desired a pri- 
 vate audience with Caliste, and ex- 
 postulated with her in severe terms 
 on the excesses of which she was 
 guilty, and which not only exposed 
 her own character to reproach, but 
 would eventually reduce her daughter 
 to poverty. She turned with disgust 
 from a lecture to which she was un- 
 accustomed; and, being sensible that 
 her example could not be beneficial 
 to her daughter, she desired that the 
 Vicomte would compel Rosalie to
 
 20 LEMIRA 
 
 take the veil, as her appearance iu 
 the world would be attended with an 
 expense incompatible with the pre- 
 sent state of their finances. Thus, to 
 gratify her own selfish pleasures, did 
 she sacrifice without remorse her only 
 child to a life which she regarded with 
 horror. Finding that his remonstrances 
 could not influence a mind rendered 
 callous by dissipation, he quitted her 
 with a threat of employing more effec- 
 tual methods for putting a period to her 
 extravagant proceedings. The lettre 
 de cachet, that his parting look seemed 
 to announce, had some effect on the 
 Vicomtesse: but the salutary impres- 
 sion was instantly effaced by the con- 
 versation of her favourites, to whom 
 she loudly complained of the savage 
 treatment which she had experienced 
 from her husband. 
 
 Reflection too certainly convinced 
 the Vicomte, that, to enable him to
 
 OF LORRAINE. 21 
 
 bestow on his son a fortune sufficient 
 to support his rank in society, it would 
 be absolutely necessary for Rosalie to 
 take the veil; and he, therefore, com- 
 manded Mellidor to take a journey to 
 St. Maure for the purpose of an- 
 nouncing to his sister the measure 
 which was in contemplation respect* 
 ing her. 
 
 When Mellidor, however, began to 
 converse on the topic of his mission, 
 Rosalie, throwing herself at his feet, 
 implored him to use all his influence 
 with her father to induce him to re- 
 sign his purpose. Interested by her 
 tears, Mellidor undertook to plead her 
 cause; and so powerfully was his elo- 
 quence exerted in her favour that the 
 Vicomte relinquished his intentions 
 for the present, and quieted Mellidor's 
 apprehensions with the promise of 
 awaiting his return from the army, 
 before he adopted any final resolu-
 
 22 LEM1RA 
 
 tion respecting* Rosalie's future desti- 
 nation. 
 
 When every preparation for Melli- 
 dor's departure was completed, he 
 took an affectionate leave of his fa- 
 ther, and joined the army of the Prince 
 de Conde, accompanying its circuitous 
 route to Franche Comte. 
 
 On this theatre of action the young 
 soldier had an ample range for the 
 display of that high sense of honour, 
 that noble contempt of danger, that 
 steady and persevering rectitude, and 
 those superior abilities, which ren- 
 dered him equally useful in peace or 
 in war, as a friend and a soldier, as a 
 commander in the field, or as an ad- 
 viser in the camp. He soon found 
 that he possessed what every officer 
 should endeavour to obtain, the affec- 
 tions and the confidence of his men; 
 ancl when, towering half a head above
 
 OF LORRAINE. 23 
 
 those who surrounded him, the youth- 
 ful leader appeared in the field, they 
 were always ready to follow him, how- 
 ever dangerous might be the exploit, 
 for honour and glory still attended on 
 his steps.
 
 24 LEMIRA 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Eftsoones he perced through his chaufed chest 
 With thrilling point of deadly yron brand, 
 And launcht his lordly hart; with death op- 
 prest [brest. 
 
 He ror'd aloud, whiles life forsook his stubborne 
 
 FAERIE OUEENE. 
 
 As the Prince de Conde with his vic- 
 torious troops penetrated into the 
 centre of Franche Comte, success still 
 attended his arms; until, as he was 
 proceeding by slow marches to join the 
 army under the personal command of 
 Louis, he received information that a 
 large body of the imperial troops, head- 
 ed by the Duke of Lorraine, threaten- 
 ed by its approach to prevent the 
 junction of the French armies, and to 
 throw a strong reinforcement into the
 
 OF LORRAINE. 25 
 
 town of Dol, which it was the inten- 
 tion of Louis to besiege. To render 
 the Duke's design ineffectual, Conde 
 thought it advisable to send some 
 officer, possessed of sufficient intrepi- 
 dity and address to carry him through 
 a country occupied by the enemy, for 
 the purpose of acquainting the King 
 with the danger of his situation, and 
 to show the necessity of an immediate 
 union of the French forces. After a 
 few minutes reflection the Prince found 
 none of his followers who, like Melli- 
 dor, were gifted at once with the in- 
 clination to undertake, and the power 
 to execute this honorable but hazard- 
 ous enterprise; for to his prudence the 
 secret might safely be confided, and 
 on his activity reliance might be placed 
 for efficient expedition. No sooner 
 had the General communicated to him 
 the occasion which called for his ser- 
 vices than, mounting his fleetest horse, 
 he buried the papers, with which he 
 vol. i. c
 
 26 LEMIRA 
 
 was intrusted, in his bosom, from 
 whence he resolved that neither arti- 
 fice nor force should extort them. 
 
 In the hope of reaching Dijon before 
 night was far advanced he slackened 
 not his pace, though twilight had al- 
 ready yielded to darkness when he 
 drew near to the forest, the outskirts of 
 which he was obliged to pass. It was 
 winter : the trees, divested of their 
 foliage, concealed not the narrow path 
 which led to Dijon; but the piercing 
 wind, murmuring through their naked 
 branches, inspired a feeling of melan- 
 choly, while the distant howlings of 
 wild beasts might have suggested to 
 a mind, and excited in a breast, less 
 intrepid than Mellidor's, the presence 
 of danger and the trepidation of alarm. 
 
 Having nearly passed the limits of 
 the forest, the sound of shrieks sud- 
 denly shocked his ear ; and, in those
 
 OF LORRAINE. 27 
 
 times when the age of chivalry was 
 not yet passed, the cries of the dis- 
 tressed could not be heard by the 
 brave without rousing their compas- 
 sion and commanding their assist- 
 ance. Checking, therefore, his horse, 
 he perceived that the screams rapidly 
 approached, nor was he long in sus- 
 pense as to the object from whom they 
 proceeded ; for in a few moments he 
 beheld, by the light of a Ian thorn which 
 was fastened to his saddle, a female 
 figure whose flying feet announced 
 her to be the victim of some well 
 grounded terror. She was closely 
 followed by a wolf, who, being ren- 
 dered doubly ferocious by hunger, 
 was pursuing his destined prey with 
 eager haste, when, her foot catching 
 in her robe, she was precipitated to 
 the ground, and would have been left 
 at the mercy of her savage enemy, had 
 not Mellidor's spear, by diverting the 
 course of the monster's fury, turned it 
 c 2
 
 28 LEMIRA 
 
 upon himself. A fierce and bloody 
 combat now ensued. Irritated by the 
 wound which he had received, the 
 wolf fastened on the horse's neck, who, 
 by his plunging and rearing, threw his 
 rider to the ground. Instantly spring- 
 ing on his feet, he pierced the wolf in 
 the back ; and when, with rage re- 
 doubled by the bloody wounds which 
 Mellidor had inflicted, the animal 
 turned with the expectation of seizing 
 him, the young hero caught him by 
 the throat, and held him in his strong 
 grasp until, with horrid convulsions, 
 he expired. The victory being gained, 
 he took off part of his dress, which he 
 applied to his horse's bleeding neck, 
 until further assistance could be pro- 
 cured to heal the wounds of the suf- 
 fering animal. 
 
 Mellidor next sought for the lady 
 whose life his timely interference had 
 thus saved, and whom he now beheld,
 
 OF LORRAINE. 29 
 
 recovered from the state of insensibi- 
 lity into which her alarm had thrown 
 her, standing trembling by his side, 
 and gazing with mute astonishment on 
 his majestic figure. The light shone 
 directly on her face, and discovered 
 to him features of so much beauty, 
 and a countenance of so much interest, 
 that feelings, to which he had as yet 
 been a stranger, were livelily excited 
 in his bosom. With a look of tender- 
 ness he took her hand, and with a tone 
 of gentleness he assured her that all 
 danger was now passed, and that her 
 fears might be pacified while he was 
 by her side, and able to protect her. 
 
 The lady replied, " To your cou- 
 rage and presence of mind, generous 
 stranger, I am indebted for my ex- 
 istence; nor is it in my power to offer 
 you any return, except the unfeigned 
 gratitude of a sensitive heart: but it 
 would gratify me if, during the course
 
 SO LEMIRA 
 
 of a life which you have preserved, 
 any opportunity should enable me to 
 requite an obligation of such infinite 
 magnitude. Suffer me, however, to 
 lead you to my castle, where, though 
 your dress convinces me that you are 
 in the service of Louis, you will be 
 secure of a hospitable reception. 
 
 Scarcely had the incognita finished 
 speaking when several lights appeared 
 suddenly at a distance, a circumstance 
 which she explained by saying that 
 her attendants, probably alarmed by 
 her absence, had left the house for the 
 purpose of seeking her, and added, 
 " If we bend our steps towards tho:^e 
 lights, we shall be conducted to my 
 abode." 
 
 Interested by her countenance, 
 pleased with her manners, and delight- 
 ed by her conversation, Mel lido r follow- 
 ed the fair unknown, who explained to
 
 OF LORRAINE. 31 
 
 him as they walked along, that, being 
 obliged to visit a sick friend in the 
 neighbourhood, she was detained until 
 a later hour than she had expected ; 
 but that thinking that there was still 
 sufficient light to enable her to return 
 home, she had left the house with only 
 one female attendant: that they had 
 scarcely advanced towards the forest, 
 when a wolf, springing from its covert, 
 had put her attendant to flight, and 
 was pursuing herself with rapidity 
 when his timely interference delivered 
 her from her imminent danger. 
 
 :c If," said Mellidor, " you feel no 
 bad effects from the terror to which 
 you have been exposed, I shall con- 
 sider myself particularly fortunate in 
 the opportunity which has been in- 
 dulged to me of preserving you." The 
 look which accompanied these words 
 imparted to them more significancy 
 and importance than seemed properly 
 to belong to them.
 
 32 LEM1RA 
 
 The lady and her knight were 
 now met by several persons carrying- 
 torches, who, feeling the most anxious 
 solicitude about the fate of their mis- 
 tress (whose danger had been made 
 known to them by the alarmed atten- 
 dant) expressed the warmest delight 
 on seeing her return in safety. While, 
 with an air of gentle authority, she was 
 giving directions to some of them re- 
 specting Mellidor's horse, he had lei- 
 sure to survey the ancient and mag- 
 nificent castle which the blaze of 
 torches now rendered conspicuous. 
 Bursting from the bosom of lofty trees, 
 it raised its embattled towers, and 
 frowned with gloomy majesty upon 
 the smiling valley extended beneath 
 its feet. 
 
 The sentinels pacing the drawbridge 
 with measured steps, the artillery ap- 
 pearing at the open bastions, the roll 
 of the drum assembling the distant sol- 
 diers, and the glitter of arms, borne
 
 OF LORRAINE. 33 
 
 by those who were performing the 
 duties of the watchtower, excited 
 Mellidor's surprise, and convinced 
 him that he was going to enter a 
 castle fortified and garrisoned by the 
 enemy to the house of Bourbon. He 
 recollected that he was the trusted 
 bearer of important despatches, aitd 
 a momentary fear of treachery shot 
 through his soul, and animated the 
 penetrating glance which he directed 
 to his fair companion. Her fine un- 
 ruffled countenance and dignified air, 
 as followed by her domestics she con- 
 ducted him into the castle,immediately, 
 however, banished every feeling of dis- 
 trust from a breast unaccustomed to 
 suspicion; and soon, by the light in 
 the saloon, he was enabled to form a 
 still more accurate idea of the fine 
 person of his lovely entertainer. If 
 the glimpse, which he had before 
 caught of her countenance, had ex- 
 cited his interest, the full disclosure 
 c3
 
 34 LEMIRA 
 
 of her charms completed the effect of 
 the fascination. Her long dark tresses, 
 escaped from the myrtle wreath which 
 had encircled them, fell abundantly 
 and in disorder over her satin robe. 
 Her light and airy figure could, when 
 the occasion demanded it, assume a 
 dignity which was not its common or 
 leading characteristic; and her com- 
 manding countenance, where a slight 
 degree of haughtiness mingled with 
 the prevailing qualities of intellect and 
 sweetness, awed the audacitv of the 
 vicious, but engaged the admiration 
 of the virtuous. Compelled, however, 
 to break off these interesting obser- 
 vations, he mentioned the cause that 
 rendered his immediate departure ne- 
 cessary ; and, leaving his horse to her 
 care, he requested that one might be 
 lent to enable him to pursue his jour- 
 ney without delay. 
 
 Having ordered one of the atten-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 35 
 
 dants, who still remained in the room, 
 to prepare a steed, she addressed the 
 youthful hero in the following man- 
 ner: " Stranger, you are going to join 
 the army, and it is probable that we 
 may never meet again; but, if your 
 reception at this castle has made any 
 impression on your mind, oh! add to 
 the obligations which you have al- 
 ready heaped upon me, one still 
 greater, infinitely greater than all the 
 rest; and when the contending hosts 
 meet in battle, should the arms of 
 Louis be crowned with success, re- 
 member Lemira de Lorraine, be mer- 
 ciful as you are brave, and save, if it 
 be possible, the life of her beloved fa- 
 ther !'' — " Oh heaven," he cried, " when 
 I lead on my troops to battle, the idea 
 of involving the ruin of the father of 
 Lemira, in the consequences of our 
 victory, will chill my ardor in the field, 
 and will induce me to wish almost for 
 defeat! Yes, lovely Princess ! I swear
 
 36 LEMIRA 
 
 that no danger shall reach the Duke 
 of Lorraine, if my arm be not de- 
 prived of its force, or my tongue of 
 its persuasion." Pressing her hand 
 respectfully to his lips, he took a 
 bracelet from her arm, which he 
 placed upon his own, and, then mount- 
 ing his horse, he set off at full speed ; 
 and reached the encampment of Louis, 
 before the monarch had yet retired to 
 rest, and was still conversing with a 
 few of his general officers on the im- 
 portant business of the war. 
 
 The sentinels having communicated 
 the arrival of the messenger, he was 
 instantly admitted to the presence of 
 the King, who, having read the de- 
 spatch, addressed the young hero in 
 the following words : " What the 
 Prince de Conde has said of your 
 character assures me that the greatest 
 reward you can receive is the con- 
 sciousness of your having saved the
 
 OF LORRAINE. 37 
 
 army, by your courage, activity, and 
 address; but, for the purpose of ani- 
 mating my officers to follow so bright 
 an example, I promote you to the rank 
 of colonel, and shall retain you near 
 my person until an opportunity oc- 
 curs to enable you to rejoin your great 
 commander." Those officers, who had 
 retired to the uncertain repose of a 
 soldier's bed, were now awakened by 
 the sudden and spirit-stirring sound 
 of the drum which beat to arms ; and 
 Mellidor, flying from tent to tent, ani- 
 mated the men with the hopes of vic- 
 tory, and, urging with the ardor of 
 youth the necessity of their instant 
 departure, assisted all with his advice, 
 and inspirited all with his example.
 
 38 LEMIKA 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 We are not the first, 
 Who, with best meaning, have incurr'd the worst. 
 For thee, oppressed king, am I cast down; 
 Myself could else outfi own false fortune's frown. 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 No sooner was every preparation com* 
 pleted than the army began their si- 
 lent but rapid inarch ; and, having met 
 the Prince de Conde's troops as the 
 sun was beginning to shed its influence 
 over the earth, they proceeded with 
 the whole strength of the united forces 
 towards the town of Dol ; and when 
 they had arrived within a few miles 
 from this place, the army received 
 an order to halt, and await in order of 
 battle, behind the concealment of an
 
 OF LORRAINE. 39 
 
 intercepting hill, the arrival of the 
 Duke of Lorraine. Full of spirits, 
 and little expecting the enemy which 
 they were to encounter, the imperia- 
 lists advanced; nor perceived, until 
 it was too late to retreat, the whole 
 French army drawn up in battle 
 array, and disclosing an extended 
 body of formidable opposition. 
 
 A command to attack the enemy 
 was instantly given by Louis; and 
 while the imperial troops, surprised, 
 disappointed, and fatigued with their 
 long march, were easily surrounded, 
 the Duke of Lorraine, reproaching his 
 troops with cowardice, and calling to 
 those who wished to recover their lost 
 fame to follow him, attempted to force 
 a passage through the enemy, in the 
 hope of regaining his honor, or at least 
 his liberty. Instigated by this des- 
 perate idea, he rashly advanced too 
 far, and, being so completely encom-
 
 40 LEMIRA 
 
 passed as to render Lis arms useless, 
 a sword was pointed at his breast, 
 which would have put an immediate 
 termination to his existence, had not 
 Mellidor, darting to the spot, arrested 
 the arm of the soldier, and commanded 
 him, with a frown of authority, not to 
 disgrace the honor of victory with the 
 guilt of cruelty. The soldier's instant 
 retreat restored to the Duke the liberty 
 of drawing his sword, which, after 
 surveying Mellidor for some time, 
 he presented to him, accompanied 
 with these words: " Go, young man! 
 and boast, that to you the Duke of 
 Lorraine did not hesitate to resign 
 iiis sword and his liberty, for he has 
 seen glory still follow your towering 
 plume, and humanity attend on your 
 steps." 
 
 To this flattering speech Mellidor 
 replied by assuring the Prince, that 
 he should be treated with everv honor
 
 OF LORRAINE. 41 
 
 which his character merited, and which 
 misfortune ought always to command. 
 
 The imperial army, seeing their ge- 
 neral a prisoner, and themselves sur- 
 rounded, were obliged to lay down 
 their arms and submit to the clemency 
 of the enemy, who now retired with 
 their captives from the field. 
 
 Having conducted the Duke to his 
 tent, and directed his officers and men 
 to pay him those honors which were 
 due to his rank and talents, Mellidor 
 flew to the Prince de Conde, whom 
 he found issuing the orders which he 
 had just received from the King, for 
 the commencement of the siege of 
 Dol, on the following day. " I beg 
 one minute's audience of your Royal 
 Highness," he said, while the urgency 
 of his business was explained by the 
 quickness of his voice, and the anima- 
 tion of his countenance. The Prince,
 
 42 LEMIRA 
 
 taking him by the arm, withdrew with 
 him to a retired part of the camp, and 
 then, softening the fire of his ardent 
 eyes into the look of approbation, he 
 said, " Have you any request to ask, 
 which it is possible for me to grant? 
 Speak, gallant young man, and, if it 
 be in my power to serve you, depend 
 upon my friendship." 
 
 " Although," replied Mellidor, "you 
 alone are not able to bestow on me 
 the favor which I am going to ask, yet 
 I feel so much confidence in your ge- 
 nerosity, and am so well assured of 
 the strength of your interest with the 
 King, that I do not hesitate to implore 
 you to obtain from him the liberty of 
 the Duke of Lorraine." The Prince 
 looked surprised, and, fixing his search- 
 ing eyes on Mellidor, he exclaimed, 
 " Are you aware of the importance 
 of this request? and that it will be 
 more difficult for you to obtain this of
 
 OF LORRAINE. 43 
 
 Louis than any other favor which you 
 could demand? Are you sensible that 
 this Prince has caused a greater ex- 
 penditure of French blood and French 
 money than all the other enemies of 
 our country? that the Emperor could 
 not have acquired kingdoms, or even 
 retained his crown, without the aid of 
 the Duke's talents as a general, and 
 the assistance of the troops of Lor- 
 raine?'* 
 
 " When I applied to your Highness 
 for his liberty, I was conscious of the 
 difficulties attending the undertaking: 
 but listen, I implore you, to my story. 
 When, sent by you with despatches 
 to the King, I was surprised by the 
 night, and was received at a castle of 
 the Duke's with an hospitality which 
 I shall never forget, and to the Princess, 
 into whose power without knowing 
 her, I had incautiously thrown my- 
 self and who had consequently the 
 disposal of my freedom, I then made
 
 44 LEMIRA 
 
 a promise to employ all my power to 
 save her father's life, and all my in- 
 terest to procure his liberty, if either 
 his life or his liberty should be brought 
 by the fortune of battle into danger. 
 She not only entertained and relieved 
 me, but when my own horse was un- 
 able to convey me any further, she 
 supplied me with the best charger in 
 her father's stables, and thus lent me 
 the means of fulfilling my mission : 
 Oh then!" he continued, with in- 
 creased warmth, " let not the shrill 
 blast of war silence the voice of mercy 
 in the victor's breast; but let your ge- 
 nerosity be powerfully exerted to plead 
 with me the cause of beauty and me- 
 rit, mourning for the captivity of a 
 valiant father. Deprive me not of 
 the opportunity to be grateful, refuse 
 me not the means of discharging a 
 substantial debt.*' 
 
 " Come,*' said the Prince, smiling, 
 " I will go with you to the King, who
 
 OF LORRAINE. 45 
 
 cannot refuse to grant your petition 
 in favor of beauty and merit; for my 
 young cousin knows, as you do, how 
 to wreathe the myrtles of love with 
 the laurels of glory." 
 
 Although, not quite pleased with the 
 insinuation conveyed by these words, 
 Mellidor followed Conde to the King, 
 whom they found preparing to refresh 
 himself after the toils of the day, with 
 those luxuries with which in these ex- 
 peditions the royal tent was always 
 most affluently supplied. 
 
 " Sire," said Conde, " I am come to 
 introduce to your Majesty my youns; 
 friend the Marquis de Valmire, with 
 whose worth you are already ac- 
 quainted; and to whose high destiny 
 it has fallen to take the Duke of Lor- 
 raine prisoner. He is going to make 
 your Majesty a petition, the import- 
 ance of which I have explained to
 
 46 LEMIRA 
 
 him ; but neither the dread of incurring 
 your displeasure, nor the difficulty of 
 obtaining his request, can induce him 
 to abandon the undertaking." 
 
 " I should seem envious of merit, 
 and a discourager of valour," replied 
 Louis, " if I did not hear, and, if pos- 
 sible, grant his petition." Mellidor 
 now approached, and, bending his 
 knee, exclaimed, " Liberty, Sire, for 
 the Duke of Lorraine!" 
 
 Conde's surprise, when the subject 
 was first mentioned to him, was slight 
 when compared to that which Louis 
 now evinced. Starting back, he eyed 
 Mellidor for some time in silence; 
 but, seeing the dauntless intrepidity 
 of innocence on his countenance, ad- 
 miration succeeded to astonishment, 
 and he answered with a softened man- 
 ner, " Your request is of such mag- 
 nitude, that to comply with it would
 
 OF LORRAINE. 47 
 
 at least endanger all the triumphs of 
 my arms, and perhaps bring the very 
 existence of my empire into ques- 
 tion." 
 
 "The Duke, Sire, can be bound by 
 ties of honor not to engage, by direct 
 or indirect measures, in any war of- 
 fensive to your Majesty ; and was I 
 possessed of any thing sufficiently va- 
 luable, I would most joyfully sacrifice 
 it as a hostage for his fidelity, for my 
 obligations to his family are not of a 
 doubtful nature." 
 
 Here Mellidor, having related the 
 circumstances which he had before 
 explained to the Prince, ended by 
 saying, " Sire, you are not inacces- 
 sible to the tears of beauty: with a 
 lenient hand then wipe away those 
 which are shed by the Princess for 
 the fate of an only parent! your ad- 
 miration, Sire, is excited by deeds of
 
 48 LEMIRA 
 
 heroism : honor them then even when 
 performed by an enemy, and, satisfied 
 with the generosity of your motives, 
 regard not the consequences, but give 
 freedom to the Duke of Lorraine!" 
 
 " Go!" answered the Monarch, as 
 well pleased with his own magnani- 
 mity as with the courage of the young- 
 pleader, " I authorise you to give him 
 freedom, ou the conditions which you 
 have yourself prescribed ; and let a 
 strong escort attend him to his castle. 
 See," he said, turning to Conde and 
 to the officers who surrounded him, 
 " see that this order is obeyed : but 
 to Valmire alone I yield the pleasure 
 of liberating his prisoner." 
 
 Mellidor again bent the knee; and, 
 pouring forth the warmest effusions 
 of gratitude, departed, with a mind 
 elate with joy, to find the Duke; whom 
 he addressed in the following words;
 
 OF LORRAINE. 40 
 
 " To dry the tears which your lovely 
 daughter sheds for your absence, I am 
 permitted by the King to restore to 
 you your sword and your liberty; but 
 the duty which he owes to himself 
 and to his people forbids him to give 
 unconditional freedom to a Prince, 
 who has discovered himself to be their 
 constant, powerful, and inveterate 
 enemy. Unless, therefore, you are 
 engaged, by your honor, to remain 
 quietly at your castle until the expi- 
 ration of the war; and not again to 
 enter the field against France, I shall, 
 by my promise to the King, be com- 
 pelled to refuse you that liberty which 
 my nature prompts me to restore." 
 
 " Yes!" cried the Prince, " you 
 seem to have acquired by your con- 
 duct the right of obliging the Duke of 
 Lorraine, whose pride will never bend 
 to be indebted for his freedom to any 
 of the race of Bourbon, To you I 
 
 VOL. I. d
 
 50 LEMIRA 
 
 give, though with reluctance, the pro- 
 mise which you request." A body of 
 horse was now despatched to escort 
 the Duke to his castle ; and the army, 
 having taken some repose, proceeded 
 to besiege Dol. No sooner was an 
 opening made in the wall than a party 
 of young noblemen, headed by the 
 ardent Mellidor, rushed into the 
 streets; and, being supported by the 
 cooler judgment and greater expe- 
 rience of Conde, compelled the city 
 to yield, after a siege of four days, 
 to the victorious arms of the French 
 Monarch. 
 
 Franche Comte being thus rapidly 
 reduced, Louis conducted his army 
 to Paris, whither Mellidor was obliged, 
 by a letter from the Vicomte, to ac- 
 company his sovereign, though the 
 tender feelings of his heart inclined 
 him, in the first instance, to visit the 
 Princess, and to offer her consolation
 
 OF LORRAINE. 51 
 
 under those distresses to which the 
 gloomy revenge of the late King and 
 the inflexible pride of her father had 
 exposed her. And here it will be ne- 
 cessary to explain the nature of those 
 distresses, and to impart to the reader 
 some idea of the character of this 
 Prince, who supported an eminent 
 part on the theatre of those times. 
 
 Being nephew to Henri the last 
 Duke, Charles acquired his estates, 
 and the sovereignty of the Duchy, 
 by an union with the daughter and 
 heiress of his uncle. This Princess 
 dying without children, Louis the 
 Thirteenth endeavoured to induce 
 him to settle his dominions on his 
 nephew, to the prejudice of the child 
 of a second marriage which the Duke 
 had contracted soon after the death 
 of his first consort. By refusing, with 
 his accustomed haughtiness, to sub- 
 mit to the will of the arbitrary mo- 
 d2
 
 52 LEM1RA 
 
 narch, he consulted rather his feelings 
 of paternal affection, which would not 
 allow him to deprive his daughter of 
 her inheritance, and of his pride, which 
 could not brook the command of a 
 superior, than the dictates of his in- 
 terest, which strongly inclined him to 
 comply with the wishes of a neigh- 
 bouring, a potent, and an ambitious 
 King: and the Duke was soon made 
 sensible, that his refusal in this in- 
 stance was only employed by Louis 
 as a pretext to cover the real cause of 
 his displeasure : a cause which, ori- 
 ginating in the exercise of the Duke's 
 virtues, was construed by the jealous 
 and gloomy disposition of the Mo- 
 narch into indignity and affront. 
 
 The Duke of Orleans, flying from 
 the wrath of his brother, sought re- 
 fuge in the court of Lorraine; where 
 he was received, not in the manner 
 which cold policy might have suggest.
 
 OF LORRAINE. 53 
 
 eel to its Duke, but with a hospitality 
 which marked at once his generous 
 but imprudent character; and by dis- 
 daining to seek his own safety by an 
 act of treachery, and by not refusing 
 his consent to the union of his sister 
 with this Prince, he drew on himself 
 the displeasure of Louis, which ended 
 only with his existence. Louis, how- 
 ever, wishing to maintain the appear- 
 ance of justice, again made his former 
 proposition. But it was couched in 
 terms that irritated the too irascible 
 pride of the Duke, and, inducing him 
 to embrace the cause of the Emperor, 
 united against the King the whole 
 military force of Lorraine, together 
 with the talents and valor of its Prince. 
 The absence of Charles gave Louis 
 an opportunity of entering his Dutchy 
 with a large army, and seizing on part 
 of his possessions. 
 
 As the imprudent Charles persisted,
 
 54 LEMIRA 
 
 during the lapse of several years, in his 
 opposition to the French King, this mo- 
 narch from time to time despoiled his 
 opponent of all his estates, and com- 
 pelled him to seek protection from the 
 Spanish branch of the house of Aus- 
 tria. Lemira, born in exile, continued 
 to share her royal father's retreat at 
 Brussels,, where, dividing his time be- 
 tween glory and pleasure, he sup- 
 ported, by means of the treasures 
 which he had carried from his own 
 country, those troops so distinguished 
 for valor and for attachment to their 
 general, together with a court almost 
 as splendid and as luxurious as that of 
 Lorraine. Tranquillity was not, how- 
 ever, long a guest in the palace of the 
 royal exile; for the King of Spain, 
 becoming jealous of the glory ac- 
 quired by his brave ally, and suspi- 
 cious lest he should meditate a re- 
 conciliation with Louis, commanded 
 the Comte de Fuensaldagne, governor
 
 OF LORRAINE. 55 
 
 of Flanders, to arrest the Duke, and 
 cause him to be conveyed, under a 
 strong escort, to the castle of Toledo, 
 where he was imprisoned during the 
 lapse of several years. The prospect 
 of a long and rigorous captivity could 
 neither daunt the spirit of Charles, 
 nor deprive him of that gay and laugh- 
 ing humour for which he was so re- 
 markable. History informs us, that, 
 as the soldiers were conveying him 
 through Angers, he perceived on the 
 road a Spaniard with a frightful coun- 
 tenance, to whom calling out aloud, 
 he said, that he was travelling to the 
 land of monkeys, from whence he 
 should be happy to send to him some 
 news of his relations. Thus did the 
 lively temper of this great man throw 
 a ray of sunshine over an event at 
 once deplorable for himself and ruin- 
 ous to his people. 
 
 During the long captivity of the
 
 56 LEMIRA 
 
 Duke Charles, Lemira's education 
 was commenced under the auspices 
 of her uncle Francois, whose amiable 
 and generous disposition induced him 
 to bestow on her an equal share of 
 kindness and attention with his own 
 children. 
 
 The death of Louis the Thirteenth 
 and the accession of his son to the 
 throne did not at first produce any 
 beneficial change in the affairs of the 
 unfortunate Duke: but at length the 
 general amnesty, commonly known as 
 the peace of the Pyrenees, restored to 
 him his dominions under certain re- 
 strictions; and he again entered Lor- 
 raine amid the joyous acclamations 
 of his subjects. 
 
 The devotion of the people of Lor- 
 raine to their sovereigns was only in- 
 ferior to that which they felt for their 
 religion; and, on the return of their
 
 OF LORRAINE. 57 
 
 injured Duke, they endeavoured to 
 surpass each other in demonstrations 
 of delight and affection. 
 
 Receiving lessons of wisdom from 
 the lips of her father, and examples 
 of fortitude and heroism from his con- 
 duct, Leinira gave early proof that she 
 was not unmindful of his instruction, 
 or unworthy of her glorious descent 
 from a long line of kings and of heroes. 
 Daily improving in beauty and ex- 
 cellence, she continued to preside at 
 the court of Lorraine, where Charles 
 delighted to see her the magnet of at- 
 traction, the object of admiration, the 
 dispenser of benefits; and while the 
 ancient chivalry and noblesse of Lor- 
 raine made her the goddess of their 
 idolatry, the Duke was pleased to ob- 
 serve that Lemira's heart was un- 
 touched by their attentions, and that 
 she rejected without hesitation every 
 offer of marriage which had yet been 
 d3
 
 58 LEB1IRA 
 
 made to her. To retain with him 
 his darling, the object of his pride 
 and of his fondest affection, he made 
 his court the seat of pleasure and of 
 gaiety. Balls, masquerades, tourna- 
 ments, and carousals followed one 
 another in rapid and gay succession ; 
 while, the youthful knights and nobles 
 of her father's kingdom were excited 
 to excellence in the lists, and in every 
 feat of arms, by the hope of receiving 
 the prize from the hands of the Prin- 
 cess of Lorraine. 
 
 Charles, who, at the age of sixty- 
 four, not only enjoyed full vigor of 
 body and mind, but who excelled the 
 most active of his nobility in the ex- 
 ercises of the field, the deeds of chi- 
 valry, and the sports of the ball room, 
 mingled with his usual sprightliness 
 in all the pleasures of his court; and, 
 relying on the faith of Louis, whose 
 remonstrances on the subject were re-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 59 
 
 peated, dismissed his army with the 
 exception of his light-horse, and fore- 
 saw not the storm which was soon to 
 burst upon his head. 
 
 While the people of Lorraine were 
 lulled in security, the French troops, 
 under the command of the Marquis 
 de Fourille, suddenly appeared in the 
 wood Haie, which ends at a quarter 
 of a league from the town of Nanci, 
 intending to enter this city at the 
 dawn of day ; and, surprising the town, 
 to seize on the person of the Duke. 
 The guides, however, either through 
 ignorance or treachery, misled the in- 
 vaders; and morning was already ad- 
 vanced when the Marquis de Fourille' 
 found himself with his army at the 
 mouth of the forest. Being thus frus- 
 trated in their expectation of taking 
 the Duke before he quitted his bed in 
 the morning, the Marquis lingered in 
 the wood until eleven o'clock, sup- 
 posing that he should then find his
 
 60 LEMIRA 
 
 victim at the hour of his repast. Hap- 
 pily, however, for Charles, he had 
 dined earlier than usual in order to 
 enjoy the exercise of the chase; and 
 when the French forces thundered at 
 the gate of the palace, Lemira alone 
 appeared on the balcony to ascertain 
 the cause of the riot. Far as her quick 
 eye could penetrate she beheld the 
 streets lined by the French soldiers; 
 and, while every avenue to escape was 
 barricadoed, a part of the invaders was 
 employed in forcing an entrance into 
 her father's palace. The Princess im- 
 mediately perceived that inevitable 
 ruin awaited her father's fortunes; for, 
 to attempt to defend the palace against 
 that host of foes, which now assailed 
 it, would only occasion an expendi- 
 ture of human life, without giving her 
 the smallest chance of ultimate suc- 
 cess. 
 
 Anxiety respecting the safety of 
 Charles was the most painful feeling
 
 OF LORRAINE. 61 
 
 of her mind ; and next in order were 
 her alarm for his property and her grief 
 for his misfortunes. Assuming, how- 
 ever, that calm and commanding look 
 which she found generally met with 
 attention, she demanded by what au- 
 thority they dared to invade the pa- 
 lace of the Duke of Lorraine, and for 
 what purpose they proceeded with so 
 much violence. 
 
 The Marquis de Fourille replied, 
 that they acted by the orders of the 
 King of France, who had despatched 
 them to seize on the person of the 
 Duke, for which purpose they insisted 
 on admission. Instead, however, of 
 instantly complying with the peremp- 
 tory demand of the general, Lemira 
 ordered the gates to be more strongly 
 barricadoed ; while, through a secret 
 pass at the back part of the building, 
 she despatched a messenger to the 
 Duke to inform him of the attack, and
 
 (32 LEMIRA 
 
 to entreat him to escape into the 
 mountains of Vosges. The Princess 
 then returned to the balcony, imploring 
 the Marquis to moderate the violence 
 of his troops, and to allow her the li- 
 berty of quitting the palace to throw 
 herself into Epinal : but all she could 
 obtain was permission to retire into 
 the convent of the nuns of the vi- 
 sitation, on condition that she would 
 submit to have her coach searched 
 after her entrance into it, in order to 
 ascertain that she carried with her no 
 articles of value. To gain time Le- 
 mira agreed to submit to this humi- 
 liating arrangement: but the French, 
 becoming every moment more en- 
 raged at the obstacles which were 
 opposed to their entrance, threatened 
 to bring artillery to effect the destruc- 
 tion of the palace. No menaces could, 
 however, induce the heroic Princess 
 to admit the troops until informed of 
 her father's safety: she then com-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 63 
 
 maiided the doors to be thrown open, 
 and the soldiers entered to seek in 
 vain for the object of their pursuit. 
 Enraged at finding that the time which 
 they had wasted in a fruitless parley, 
 and in an attempt to storm the palace, 
 had been employed by the Duke to 
 carry him beyond their power, they 
 wreaked their vengeance on the mag- 
 nificent furniture and pictures which 
 adorned the mansion of the Lorraine 
 princes. Having stripped it of every 
 article of value, they seized the trea- 
 sures and the papers of the Duke; and, 
 that no indignity to this great Prince 
 might be spared, the Marquis de 
 Fourille stabled his horses in those 
 halls where nobles had feasted, and 
 where beauty had smiled. 
 
 In the meantime the unfortunate 
 Princess, fallen from the pinnacle of 
 glory, and deprived of every thing ex- 
 cept that greatness of mind which is
 
 64 L EMIR A 
 
 displayed more strongly in the dreary 
 walks of adversity than in the flowery 
 fields of prosperity, had sought refuge 
 from the brutality of the soldiers in 
 the convent of the nuns of visitation. 
 
 The Abbess of this religious house 
 received the daughter of her sovereign 
 with respect and affection ; and rea- 
 dily agreed to give her assistance to 
 Lemira's plan of escaping to the moun- 
 tains of Vosges. A favourable oppor- 
 tunity soon occurred of enabling this 
 lovely girl to quit her holy retreat for 
 the purpose of sharing the dangers 
 and miseries of her revered parent. 
 
 Colonel Belrose, who had been sent 
 by the exiled Charles to attempt some 
 negotiation with the Marquis de 
 Crequi, now commanding in Nanci, 
 at the head of an army of twenty-six 
 thousand men, visited Lemira at the 
 convent, and pledged himself to effect
 
 OF LORRAINE. 65 
 
 her freedom, provided she would con- 
 descend to embrace the means neces- 
 sary for that purpose. Lemira, having 
 consented to the plan proposed by the 
 Colonel, impatiently awaited his ar- 
 rival; and, while her delicate person, 
 ill suited the masculine attire which 
 she was obliged to assume, her cou- 
 rage seemed to augment as her hopes 
 of seeing her father increased. 
 
 Evening began to tinge the western 
 sky with red, when Belrose appeared 
 with his footboy at the gates of the 
 convent, and, having remained within 
 its walls until night lent its veil to 
 cover his design, he quitted the house, 
 accompanied by the Princess carrying 
 his torch. As they passed the senti- 
 nels on duty, Belrose affected to be 
 angry with her for holding the lights 
 so ill, and even sometimes lifted up 
 his cane in act to strike the disguised 
 beauty. Having at last passed through
 
 66 LEMIRA 
 
 the streets of Nanci, they arrived in 
 safety in the open country, where two 
 fleet coursers and several gentlemen 
 of Lorraine, desirous of rejoining their 
 Duke, awaited them. The Princess 
 sprang into the saddle, and, accom- 
 panied by her knights, set off at full 
 speed. Unaccustomed, however, to 
 exercise so violent, the Princess, who 
 would not relax her pace, though al- 
 most fainting from fatigue, was obliged 
 to submit to allow a person to mount 
 on the crupper of her horse in order 
 to support her in the saddle, until their 
 rapid pace at length brought them to 
 the mountain of Vosges. 
 
 Charles received his daughter with 
 a delight which compensated her for 
 all her fatigues and dangers; and, to 
 partake with her beloved father his 
 alarms and difficulties was to her af- 
 fectionate heart a source of consola- 
 tion. While this high minded but un-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 67 
 
 fortunate pair wandered in the for- 
 tresses of the mountains, not daring 
 to sleep two nights in the same place, 
 lest their persons should fall into the 
 power of the victor, the people of Lor- 
 raine, at the hazard of their lives, sup- 
 plied them, together with the troops 
 and nobles, who continually flocked 
 round the standard of their sovereign, 
 with pro visions and necessaries of every 
 kind. The arrival of the Duke's com- 
 pany of guards, and that of his light- 
 horse, which had chosen a favourable 
 moment to desert from the army of 
 the Marquis of Crequi, again placed 
 Charles at the head of a force, not in- 
 deed sufficiently numerous to enable 
 him to attempt, with any prospect of 
 success, his reestablishment on the 
 throne of his ancestors, but of conse- 
 quence enough to render his alliance 
 worth purchasing by the sovereigns of 
 Europe; who viewed, with no friendly 
 eye, the increasing power of the am- 
 bitious Monarch of France.
 
 68 LEMIRA 
 
 A General, who was never unsuc- 
 cessful but when his talents were ex- 
 erted in defence of his own estates, 
 was eagerly sought after by the Em- 
 peror, to whom his faith was pledged, 
 and whose army he bravely com- 
 manded. 
 
 The Princess Lemira solicited and 
 obtained permission from the King of 
 France to retire into the castle in the 
 neighbourhood of Dijon, which, with 
 the surrounding domain, was all that 
 remained to the Duke of his domi- 
 nions. Having been the constant com- 
 panion of all her father's wanderings, 
 and the sharer of all his misfortunes, 
 Lemira had of course imbibed the 
 strong feeling of filial love, which the 
 conduct of her father, by relinquishing 
 his present fortune rather than sacri- 
 fice her future interests, exalted into 
 grateful and enthusiastic admiration. 
 The Duke's visits at the castle, which 
 were as frequent as his duty to the
 
 OF LORRAINE. 69 
 
 Emperor would permit, were received 
 by her with a joy proportioned to her 
 sorrow at his departure; and, while 
 with tears she implored him to recover 
 his possessions by an entire submission 
 to the will of Louis, she endeavoured 
 by her prudence and her talents to 
 conciliate his enemies, and to save the 
 wreck of his fortunes. Wit, valor, a 
 happy pliability of manner, a perfect 
 knowledge of the world, were in him 
 combined with pride without fierce- 
 ness, and generosity without ostenta- 
 tion. 
 
 The Princess's gratitude to the young 
 hero, who had given life and liberty to 
 such a father, may be easily conceived ; 
 and, as her happiness on the Duke's 
 return was constantly mingled with 
 the recollection of the person to whom 
 she was indebted for it, she found that 
 her thoughts more commonly deviated 
 into this track than into any other.
 
 70 LEMIRA 
 
 Unfortunately, however, afflictions, se- 
 vere in their nature and dreadful in 
 their result, now demanded all her 
 attention; and again called forth all 
 the fortitude of her great soul to en- 
 able her to meet them without sink- 
 ing under their pressure. But, as an 
 explanation of these events is not here 
 immediately necessary, we shall re- 
 turn to Mellidor whom we quitted on 
 his arrival at Paris.
 
 OF LORRAINE. 71 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Oh scene of horror, and of wild despair, 
 
 Why is the rich Atrides' splendid heir 
 
 Constrain'd to quit his ancient lordly seat, 
 
 And hide his glories in a mean retreat? 
 
 Why that drawn sword? and whence that dis- 
 mal cry? 
 
 Why pale distraction through the family? 
 
 Why that gay son to distant regions sent? 
 
 What fiends that daughter's destined match 
 prevent? 
 
 Why the whole house in sudden ruin laid ? 
 
 Oh nothing but last night — my lady play'd. 
 
 YOUNG. 
 
 After the embrace with which the 
 Vicomte welcomed his son, he ob- 
 served a deep melancholy preying on 
 his father's spirits, nor did he long 
 suffer Mellidor to remain ignorant of 
 the cause of his dejection ; for, sending
 
 72 LEMIRA 
 
 for him into his library on the day after 
 his arrival, he addressed him in the 
 following manner; 
 
 " You must be conscious, Mellidor, 
 that I have hitherto performed towards 
 you all the duties of a parent, with the 
 most unremitting attention, and the 
 most unwearied vigilance; that while I 
 fostered with care every virtue, I pu- 
 nished with severity every fault; and, 
 rendering your mind less accessible 
 to the inroads of vice by storing its 
 capacity with learning and morality, I 
 conducted you by degrees to that per- 
 fection to which you have at last at- 
 tained. Your first essay in life has 
 been happily crowned with success; 
 and you have returned, after a short 
 but dangerous conflict, with wounds 
 obtained in a glorious cause, and with 
 a mind which has discovered itself to 
 be superior to temptations. To the 
 care which has been taken to direct
 
 OF LORRAINE. 73 
 
 your inclinations into a proper course 
 of action is this to be ascribed, rather 
 than to the natural goodness of your 
 disposition; for we have frequently 
 seen that nature, unenlightened by 
 education, scarcely exalts the reason 
 of a man above the instinct of a brute. 
 But my anxiety for your welfare does 
 not terminate with your education; 
 for I have still an important duty to 
 perform, which will be soon adjusted 
 according to my wishes, if you do not 
 oppose your own happiness. I allude 
 to your union with a lady of large 
 fortune, from whose father I have just 
 received proposals for you." As he 
 concluded this speech his dark eyes 
 were fixed on Mellidor's face, whose 
 sudden start and pale countenance 
 discovered that the subject was to him 
 as unpleasing as it was unexpected. 
 u What is the occasion of this emo- 
 tion?" asked the Vicomte, with anxiety, 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 LEMIRA 
 
 " Does the aversion to ray proposal 
 which your countenance betrays pro- 
 ceed from a preengagement of your af- 
 fections? or are you," he added, with 
 a contracted brow, " engaged in some 
 intrigue which you blush to confess? 
 or has innocence suffered from your 
 seductions? if you have been guilty 
 of the latter crime, you must indeed 
 repair it at the altar, for never shall 
 your principle bend to the suggestions 
 of your pride." 
 
 " No, my Sire !" exclaimed Melli- 
 dor, the indignant blood returning to 
 his cheek at the unjust suspicion, 
 " no, Sire, my heart is as free from 
 guilt as my lips are from falsehood ; 
 but I confess your proposition has ex- 
 cited my surprise and uneasiness, and, 
 as you cannot be so ignorant of the 
 gratitude which glows within my 
 breast as to attribute my answer to
 
 OF LORRAINE. 75 
 
 un thankfulness, I must entreat your 
 pardon if I decline this last instance 
 of your affection." 
 
 " Nothing can excuse your unduti- 
 ful reply," answered the Vicomte, " ex- 
 cept the previous engagement of your 
 heart." 
 
 Mellidor blushed, but remained si_ 
 lent. 
 
 " Mellidor," said the father, in a 
 softer tone than he had ever before 
 assumed towards his son, " will you 
 not confide to your best of friends the 
 object of your attachment?" Melli- 
 dor could not deny the first request 
 which his father had ever condescend- 
 ed to make ; and yet would not his 
 passion for a person whom he had 
 seen but once be a subject of ridicule 
 to the reasonable A^icomte? While 
 these reflections were passing in the
 
 76 LEMIRA 
 
 young nobleman's mind, the appeal 
 to his filial feelings was renewed by 
 the Vicomte, who added in a voice 
 tremulous with fear ; 
 
 S Boy, boy! 1 tremble lest the wo- 
 man, for whom you have refused my 
 offer, is of a character which induces 
 you to dread the disclosure of her 
 name {" 
 
 Roused by a supposition so de- 
 grading to his choice, Mellidor started 
 up, and erected his towering figure 
 which seemed to expand with indig- 
 nant pride, while his countenance be- 
 came fixed on his father's. 
 
 " In the election which my heart has 
 made," he said, " my principles and 
 my pride are equally secured by the 
 virtue and the noble birth of the ob- 
 ject, to whom my affections are de- 
 voted; nor need I blush to acknow-
 
 OF LORHAIXE. 77 
 
 ledge that that object is the daughter 
 of the Duke of Lorraine." 
 
 " If indeed your choice is so noble," 
 replied the Vicomte, " it gives me the 
 more sorrow to be obliged to say that 
 it can never be attended with success. 
 The Duke is ruined. The greater 
 part of his estates have been confis- 
 cated, and the remainder have been 
 seized for the discharge of his debts." 
 
 " O my Sire!" exclaimed Melli- 
 dor, his fine face glowing as he spake, 
 " and will it not be noble to raise the 
 dejected fortunes of the lovely Le- 
 mira? to obtain her affections by the 
 generous action of replacing her ex- 
 cellent father in a state of affluence, 
 and to appear to her as a favoured 
 mortal to whom Heaven has confided 
 the blessing of dispensing his bene- 
 fits." Mellidor paused; and the Vi- 
 comte, who was obliged to turn his
 
 78 LEMIRA 
 
 head aside to conceal a tear which 
 his son's noble feelings had called into 
 his eye, was a moment without re- 
 plying. 
 
 " Alas, Mellidor," at length he said, 
 " I fear your fate is not so happy. 
 Your fortune is too contracted to al- 
 low you to indulge your generous pro- 
 pensities ; and, before you can possess 
 even that limited sum which will only 
 enable you to support existence, your 
 beloved sister must be deprived of her 
 fortune, and be led to the altar to take 
 vows from which her heart recoils. 
 That woman," he proceeded, as Mel- 
 liclors surprise would not allow him 
 to offer any interruption to his father's 
 speech, " that woman whom I have the 
 misfortune to call wife has, by forging 
 drafts in my name on my banker, de- 
 prived me of immense sums ; and now 
 when I have taken effectual methods to 
 prevent her future extravagancies, the
 
 OF LORRAINE. 79 
 
 sudden disappearance of a person to 
 whom I had entr listed my money, 
 until I could employ it in the pur- 
 chase of landed property, has reduced 
 me to actual distress. Nothing- re- 
 mains but your estate in Languedoc, 
 which before my second marriage was 
 too small to support my family. Ro- 
 salie's fate is therefore determined, 
 unless, by the acceptance of the for- 
 tune which I have offered him, Melli- 
 dor will rescue his sister from a clois- 
 ter, and his father from indigence." 
 
 The Vicomte, perceiving that he 
 had made a deep impression on his 
 son, paused to await his reply ; while, 
 with his face concealed by his hand 
 which rested on the table, Mellidor 
 appeared plunged in meditation. At 
 last starting up he exclaimed, " O my 
 honored father! my beloved Rosalie! 
 I cannot suffer you to be the victims ! 
 Yes, Sire! I resign myself into your
 
 80 LEMIRA 
 
 hands : dispose of my destiny as you 
 think fit !" 
 
 The Vicomte embraced his son with 
 enthusiasm ; and, perceiving that his 
 feelings were now too much affected 
 to continue the subject, he dismissed 
 him, with a request that he would re- 
 turn at a stated hour on the following 
 day.
 
 OP LORRAINE. 81 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 Ah! si, par mon devoir force de vous quitter, 
 
 Tout mon amour alors ne put pas eclater, 
 
 Ne vous souvient-il plus, sans compter tout Ie 
 
 reste, 
 Combien j e me plaignis de ce devoir funeste ! 
 
 MITHRIDATE. 
 
 Emanuel de St. Amancl, from whom 
 the Vicomte received the proposals 
 which he had communicated to his 
 son, practised as gens-de-robe in Dijon, 
 and was likewise a member of the par- 
 liament of that city, where his ances- 
 tors, who were all of the same profes- 
 sion, had amassed an immense fortune. 
 With manners polite and gentle, a 
 heart, just, benevolent, and liberal; he 
 had, to obscure so many excellences, 
 e3
 
 82 LEMIRA 
 
 but one weakness, which he carried 
 to an excess that rendered his life 
 unhappy. Having the misfortune to 
 be born of ignoble parents, and to be 
 subsequently chosen a member of the 
 Dijon Parliament, he sighed for noble 
 birth with a regret which actually poi- 
 soned all his enjoyments, and which 
 induced him to seek eagerly for an al- 
 liance with a person of rank, that his 
 children might derive nobility from at 
 least one parent. 
 
 The pride of the ancient French 
 noblesse not allowing them to con- 
 descend to a connexion with an avocat, 
 however superior he might be to them 
 in the possession of fortune, he sought 
 in England what was refused to him 
 in his native country; and it was in 
 the former place that he found Lady 
 Caroline Merton, the daughter of an 
 Earl whose gambling had so much re- 
 duced his fortune as to make him, in
 
 OF LORRAINE. 83 
 
 a country where beauty is less esteem- 
 ed than riches, accept with joy St. 
 Amand's proposal for the youngest of 
 his numerous children. 
 
 Three years had scarcely elapsed 
 since their marriage, when Lady Ca- 
 roline, who had given birth to a daugh- 
 ter, was attacked by a consumption, 
 a complaint with which she had been 
 frequently threatened. With the anx- 
 iety of a fond husband, St. Amand im- 
 mediately removed her to Montpellier ; 
 where the Vicomte de Valmire had 
 likewise brought his first wife, whose 
 health, being in a declining state, re- 
 quired the salubrious atmosphere of 
 that beautiful city. 
 
 The different manners of the men, 
 and the Vicomte's pride for some time 
 precluded an acquaintance from being 
 formed between them: but the simi- 
 larity of their present feelings and si-
 
 84 LEMIRA 
 
 tuation, united with St. Amand's never 
 ceasing attentions to the Vicomtesse, 
 removed at last every obstacle to their 
 intercourse, and they met on terms of 
 equality and friendship. 
 
 One day as St. Amand was con- 
 templating Mellidor and Mellanie, 
 who, being nearly of the same age, 
 were then pursuing their infant sports 
 in the room, he was struck with the 
 idea of indulging his favorite object 
 by a future union between his child 
 and the young Marquis, and though 
 the absurdity could not escape him of 
 fostering the idea of a marriage be- 
 tween two children at that time not 
 more than three years old, which so 
 many events altogether beyond his 
 control might interpose to disappoint, 
 yet he continued to cherish it; and, 
 favoured by the distressed state of 
 the Vicomte's fortune, he was at 
 length enabled to carry it into effect*
 
 OF LORRAINE. 85 
 
 His wife, Lady Caroline, had fallen 
 a victim to her fatal malady; and 
 his family had now long since re- 
 moved to a distance from that of the 
 Yicomte: but his wealth and the no- 
 bleman's indigence were uniting cir- 
 cumstances ; and a communication 
 was opened between them, whilst the 
 pride of one was lessened, and the 
 confidence of the other proportionably 
 increased. 
 
 No sooner had the Vicomte received 
 Mellidor's assent to his wishes, than 
 he wrote to St. Am and expressing his 
 acceptance of his proposal, and adding 
 that his son should lose no time in ap- 
 pearing at Dijon to pay his addresses 
 to Mademoiselle St. Amand. 
 
 Mellidor had not much leisure to 
 meditate on the impending change in 
 his destiny ; for his servant Bernard, 
 to whom he was obliged to have re-
 
 86 LEMIRA 
 
 course for the purpose of assisting him 
 in making preparations for his journey, 
 was too eager to acquaint his Lord 
 with the events which had occurred 
 during his absence, to allow him to 
 indulge his own thoughts. 
 
 " Monseigneur!" began the talkative 
 valet, " how much the alteration in 
 this family has surprised me!" 
 
 " To what alteration do you allude?" 
 inquired Mellidor, fearing that he had 
 discovered the Vicomte's distresses. 
 
 " To the removal of Madame la 
 Vicomtesse," he replied, " who has at 
 last been punished for tormenting every 
 body, by being confined in the Chateau 
 Meillant; which, I suppose, you know, 
 Monseigneur, is a strong castle in the 
 province of Berry. They say she can 
 never get out again to plague her poor 
 servants with her caprices."
 
 OF LORRAINE. 87 
 
 Mellidor silenced his loquacity with 
 a severe look ; for, knowing as he did 
 the true cause of the Yicomtesse's 
 confinement, and that her father was 
 anxious to conceal it from the world, 
 he would not indulge Bernard's free- 
 dom of tongue. But in a few minutes 
 the valet, willing to excuse what he had 
 said, again broke silence by saying; 
 
 " I am sure, Monseigneur, you have 
 no reason to be angry with me for 
 speaking so freely of the Vicomtesse, 
 who always behaved worse to you than 
 she did to other people ; and the lettre 
 de cachet, which has taken her away, 
 ought to give Monseigneur as much 
 pleasure as it does his humble ser- 
 vant." 
 
 " You must allow me to be the best 
 judge of that, Bernard," answered 
 Mellidor. " But the Vicomtesse is 
 my father's wife, and I shall expect
 
 88 LEMIRA 
 
 my servants to treat her with respect." 
 These words were accompanied by a 
 look of such command, that they com- 
 pletely frightened poor Bernard into 
 silence. 
 
 On the next day when Mellidor at- 
 tended his father, he explained the cir- 
 cumstances of his acquaintance with 
 St. Amand, as we have before related 
 them. The Vicomte likewise conjured 
 him to hasten the preparations for his 
 expedition into Burgundy; and offered 
 to supply him, out of the small sum 
 which still remained in his hands, 
 with an equipage, to appear before 
 his intended bride. But Mellidor re- 
 fused to spend in ostentation any part 
 of what his father must require for his 
 necessary support; and he, therefore, 
 departed in a few days on horseback, 
 attended only by Bernard and agroom ; 
 and, paying his sister at St. Maure a 
 visit on his way, for the purpose o*
 
 OF LORRAINE. ,89 
 
 liberating her from her confinement, 
 he proceeded across the country to 
 Loches, then pursuing the course of 
 the river Indre, he did not slacken his 
 pace until he arrived at Chatillon. 
 Here he stopped to take some refresh- 
 ment; and, being obliged to travel 
 slowly on account of his horses, he 
 determined to see every thing that 
 was curious on his road to Dijon. 
 Anxious to banish from his mind, by 
 the power of reason, the idea of Lemira, 
 he would frequently exclaim; " Is it 
 possible that I can be so weak as to 
 suffer the idea of a woman, however 
 lovely, whom I have only once seen, 
 to preserve a dominion over my mind, 
 which will prevent me from loving one 
 to whom I am soon to be united, and 
 who is doubtlessly endued with many 
 amiable and excellent qualities? For- 
 bid it, reason! and forbid it, virtue!" 
 
 Bein^oblioedto reach Chateauroux,
 
 90 LEMIRA 
 
 a distance of thirty miles before night, 
 he hastened his departure from Chatil- 
 lon ; and on the next day, renewing his 
 journey at an early hour, he crossed 
 the Anion ; and, passing through the 
 small town of Charot, he entered the 
 forest of St. Florentine, and from 
 thence proceeded to the city of Bour- 
 ges. This town was interesting to 
 the young traveller, because it was 
 the birthplace of two very famous, 
 but opposite characters : of Louis the 
 Eleventh, whose crimes deform the 
 page of the historian ; and of the 
 preacher Bourdaloue, whose elo- 
 quence was employed in the glorious 
 cause of virtue and morality. 
 
 The next place which attracted his 
 attention was the convent of the Be- 
 nedictine Culinestes, situated in the 
 town of La Charite; the Prior of 
 which assured Mellidor that in a sea- 
 son of scarcity they had supplied the
 
 OF LORRAINE. 91 
 
 whole city with provisions. Taking 
 his leave of the Prior of this generous 
 convent, Mellidor continued his route 
 to Nevers, where he arrested his pro- 
 gress to view the ducal palace, in the 
 which John Casimir, King of Poland, 
 had recently expired. He passed the 
 night in this populous city ; and, pro- 
 ceeding on the next day through St. 
 Biene and Moulins, he stopped at Bour- 
 bon to view the castle ; and, wishing to 
 have sufficient time to see Luzy and 
 the curiosities at Autun, he slept at 
 Bourbon ; a circumstance at which 
 Bernard, who was heartily tired of 
 traveling, was not a little rejoiced. 
 
 Near the town of Luzy, which is si- 
 tuated at the foot of the Vosges, stands 
 an abbey founded by St. Columban. 
 But to Mellidor Autun was the chief 
 object of attention, as it contained, 
 besides many other Roman antiqui- 
 ties, the temples of Janus and Cybele;
 
 V'2 LEMIRA 
 
 and the tomb of the savage Brunehaud, 
 the monster of the sixth century, who 
 for poisoning her son Childebert, and 
 procuring the death of ten kings, was 
 justly punished by being tied to the 
 tail of a wild horse, and thus miserably 
 destroyed. 
 
 Having, contrary to the advice of 
 Bernard, quitted Bean rather late in 
 the evening, Mellidor found that he 
 had mistaken the road, and that he 
 had entered the forest of Oemigny, 
 from which he was endeavouring to 
 disengage himself, when night sud- 
 denly advanced, accompanied by a 
 tremendous storm ; and Mellidor's spi- 
 rited steed, rendered furious by the 
 liehtninG:, darted forwards through the 
 thickest part of the wood to the great 
 danger of his rider, who was obliged 
 to throw his body flat on the horse's 
 neck, to avoid being caught by the 
 branches which hung over his head.
 
 OF LORRAINE. 93 
 
 III this unpleasant posture he pro- 
 ceeded for several miles, at a pace 
 which soon left his attendant at an aw- 
 ful distance ; nor, when he had escaped 
 the confines of the forest, could he 
 check the rapid progress of his horse 
 till he had leaped a high wall, and 
 Mellidor discovered to his great sur- 
 prise that he was within the precincts 
 of a garden. Here the animal stopped, 
 and the young nobleman, leaping from 
 his back, tied him to a tree; and looked 
 around, to endeavour to distinguish 
 objects by the light of the moon, which 
 
 had now arisen. 
 
 1 
 
 He walked through several fine 
 alleys, where the flowering lime dif- 
 fused a pleasing fragrance, until he 
 saw the chimneys of a house towering 
 above the trees; and towards this 
 place he directed his steps. Having 
 reached the building, he perceived 
 through the long windows -a room
 
 94 LEMIRA 
 
 brilliantly illuminated and splendidly 
 adorned. As he leaned against the 
 sash the spring yielded to his pressure, 
 and he found himself an involuntary 
 intruder into the house of a stranger. 
 But this thought received a momen- 
 tary suspension, when his eye caught, 
 sleeping under a crimson canopy, the 
 sight of a female, whose person, at the 
 apparent age of twenty-four, united 
 the blooming softness, which the ear- 
 liest age can boast, to the fully pro- 
 portioned beauty of maturer years. 
 To see her asleep was to see her in 
 the most advantageous point of view; 
 for she wanted, when awake, that ex- 
 pression so striking in Lemira's face, 
 which makes the countenance speak 
 the language of the soul; a language 
 which appeals to the heart, while the 
 perfection of feature and complexion 
 is calculated only to dazzle the eye. 
 With Mellidor's admiration of the fair 
 object before him no passion was,
 
 OF LORRAINE. 95 
 
 therefore, blended : he viewed her as 
 one of nature's finest works, which, 
 calling for his praise without exciting 
 his love, made no alteration in his 
 ideas or sentiments. Mellidor was 
 both too good and too wise to be- 
 come enamoured of mere beauty ; for 
 he thought, like the Bishop whose 
 pages teem with poetry, " that it is 
 an ill band of affection to tie two 
 hearts together by a little thread of 
 red and white." 
 
 While in doubt whether to ad- 
 vance farther into the house, and, 
 making his situation known, beg shel- 
 ter for the night, he continued to gaze 
 on the lovely female, the loud ringing 
 of a bell determined his doubts by 
 awaking the sleeping beauty. Start- 
 ing immediately from the sofa, she 
 seemed to regard the majestic figure 
 of the young stranger with alarm ; 
 and from this he had scarcely time to
 
 90 LEMIRA 
 
 relieve her by declaring his name, and 
 the accident that occasioned his sud- 
 den intrusion, when the violent ringing 
 was renewed, and was followed by 
 the entrance of several domestics pre- 
 ceded by a gentleman of a most ve- 
 nerable aspect. With a smiling coun- 
 tenance he extended his hand to Mel- 
 lidor while he exclaimed, " I am happy 
 to find that your acquaintance with my 
 daughter is already commenced." This 
 speech produced an explanation, and 
 Mellidor was informed that the house, 
 into which he had entered, belonged 
 to St. Amand, and that the beauty, 
 whom he had been contemplating, was 
 no other than his destined bride. 
 
 Mellidor's servants having discover- 
 ed the right road soon after their Lord 
 had quitted them; and, being anxious 
 respecting his fate, deemed it best to 
 ride on as quickly as possible to Mon- 
 sieur St. Amand's; and, if Mellidor
 
 OF LORRAINE. 97 
 
 should not be already arrived, to pro- 
 cure lights to search for him in the 
 forest. When they reached the villa, 
 they were instantly seen by St. Amand, 
 who conducted them into the saloon 
 to debate on the best measures to be 
 pursued; and there he found Melli- 
 dor, by whose magnificent figure he 
 acknowledged that all his ideas of the 
 grandeur of a legitimate nobleman 
 were confirmed. 
 
 Very considerately supposing that 
 his visitor must be fatigued with his 
 journey, St. Amand insisted upon 
 lighting him to the room which had 
 been prepared for his reception: a 
 proposition which Mellidor, in whom 
 the desire to entertain Mam'selle St. 
 Amand was not sufficiently powerful 
 to repress his inclination to sleep, very 
 joyfully accepted. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 98 LEMIRA 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 The quality of mercy is not strained ; 
 It droppetb, as the gentle rain from Heaven 
 Upon the place beneath; it is twice bless'd, 
 It blesses him that gives, and him that takes. 
 
 MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
 
 If, to Mellidor's preengaged heart, 
 Melanie's charms offered no tempta- 
 tion to inconstancy, after the first feel- 
 ing of surprise she was no less indif- 
 ferent to the effects of his personal ac- 
 complishments, a circumstance, which, 
 as it proceeded not from the natural 
 insusceptibility of her mind, will re- 
 quire some further explanation. 
 
 About three years before the young 
 Valmire's arrival at Dijon, Melanie
 
 OF LORRAINE. 99 
 
 had danced at a ball with Henri Vil- 
 leron, who, at the age of thirty, having 
 dissipated a large fortune, and, falling 
 deeply in love with Mam'selle St. 
 Amand, was desirous of gratifying 
 his passion, and of replenishing his 
 coffers by an union with one whose 
 great beauty and immense fortune 
 rendered her the object of very ge- 
 neral pursuit. 
 
 Villeron, whose early vices had been 
 instrumental in causing his mother's 
 death, joined to a quick and pene- 
 trating understanding a thorough 
 knowledge of the female heart; to 
 the various tempers of which he so 
 adroitly adapted his mode of attack, 
 that his seductions were thought too 
 powerful to be resisted, and, for a fe- 
 male to be the object of his pursuit, 
 was generally considered as sufficient 
 to insure her eventual ruin. His figure, 
 not being tall, was more formed for 
 f 2
 
 100 LEMIRA 
 
 elegance than dignity ; and, being 
 possessed of a perfect command of 
 his countenance, he could make that, 
 like his mind, assume any charac- 
 ter which might be suited to his pur- 
 pose. Judging from the well known 
 integrity of the father that Melanie had 
 received a virtuous education, he ad- 
 dressed her with honorable love : but 
 he did not make his purposes known 
 to St. Amand until he had succeeded 
 in obtaining the affections of his daugh- 
 ter, whose reason was not sufficiently 
 strong to guard her heart against the 
 inroads of sudden and violent passion. 
 To Villeron's proposal St. Amand, 
 with the prospect of a noble alliance 
 in his eye, replied by a cold and po- 
 sitive refusal, which, although couched 
 in terms of politeness, gave great of- 
 fence to the impetuous lover; and, ex- 
 aggerating it to Melanie, he made it 
 appear like insult and contempt: thus, 
 placing himself in the right and her
 
 OF LORRAINE. 101 
 
 father in the wrong, he wrought upon 
 her feelings in his favour, and, forcibly 
 exciting her pity, added strength to 
 her love. When Melanie applied to 
 St. Amand for an explanation of his 
 conduct, he simply replied, that Vil- 
 leron's bad character was alone suffi- 
 cient to justify his refusal; and that 
 he should never choose for his be- 
 loved girl a man whose disposition 
 was so ill formed for the promotion 
 of her happiness. 
 
 Although on this subject Melanie's 
 ideas were in direct opposition to her 
 father's, the extraordinary indolence 
 of her character prevented her from 
 combating his arguments; and as 
 Henri had his secret reasons for not 
 insisting on an immediate marriage, 
 he affected, with consummate art, to 
 praise her filial piety, though it was 
 the cause of misery to himself. This 
 filial piety did not, however, prevent
 
 102 LEMIRA 
 
 her from maintaining a correspondence 
 with her lover, nor even from granting 
 him frequent interviews ; during which 
 lie never failed to increase her affec- 
 tions by soft complaints of her cruelty, 
 aud by passionate protestations of his 
 eternal love. By this line of conduct 
 he hoped to feed her flame, until the 
 completion of her twenty-fifth year 
 would emancipate her from, the con- 
 troll of her parent, and would give him 
 possession of her hand with a very 
 large fortune which was then to be 
 necessarily attached to it. Unhappily, 
 however, for him Mellidor stepped in 
 to intercept the self-promised bless- 
 ing; and, as the object of his journey 
 to Dijon was to be kept a profound 
 secret, it would not have reached Vil- 
 leron, who was then at a distance, if 
 Melanie had not written to inform 
 him of her situation, and to implore 
 his immediate presence and advice. 
 Secretly determined to avoid an union
 
 OF LORRAINE. 103 
 
 with Mellidor by an elopement with 
 Villeron, she thought it not prudent 
 to discover to the former any of that 
 coldness which she actually felt; and, 
 when they met at breakfast on the day 
 following the night of his arrival, she 
 treated him with so much kindness 
 and attention that St. Amand was de- 
 ceived into the belief that she partici- 
 pated in his joy at the prospect of her 
 marriage with the young Marquis ; and, 
 acting on his surmises as if they had 
 been realities, he assured Mellidor of 
 his daughter's affection, and made it 
 so obvious to him that Melanie's hap- 
 piness depended on his love, that he 
 resolved to comply with the wishes 
 of her father, and to consent that the 
 ceremony should not be postponed 
 beyond the duration of a few days. 
 Melanie heard this decision without 
 feeling any emotion of alarm; for esti- 
 mating Villeron's distance from Dijon, 
 $he calculated that he would certainly
 
 104 LEMIRA 
 
 arrive on the day previous to that on 
 which the marriage was to take place, 
 and that she should thus be enabled 
 to elude, without the trouble of oppo- 
 sition, the event which she depre- 
 cated ; and be united to the man from 
 whose society she fondly hoped to 
 derive substantial happiness. Con- 
 vinced that he would never suffer the 
 object of his affections to be torn from 
 his embrace and be bestowed on an- 
 other, she allowed the magnificent pre- 
 parations for the ceremony to proceed 
 without manifesting any appearance 
 of disgust, and she received Mellidor's 
 forced attentions with a modest kind- 
 ness, which strongly solicited, from the 
 tenderness of his disposition, a return 
 of friendship and esteem. Superior to 
 prejudice he soon discovered in St. 
 Am and a mind possessed of as much 
 genuine nobleness, and as much re- 
 fined sensibility as could be found in 
 any of his species, and he contracted
 
 OF LORRAINE. 105 
 
 for his future father an affection which 
 resembled the filial. 
 
 " Alas!" exclaimed the young' Mar- 
 quis, bursting into the strong expres- 
 sion of long suppressed feeling, when 
 the retirement of his own apartment 
 allowed him liberty to indulge his 
 thoughts, "it is too true, .that I can 
 never love Melanie with passion, and 
 it is likewise true, that the high souled 
 Lemira has made on my mind an im- 
 pression too deep to permit me to hope 
 that it soon will be effaced : but though 
 my heart may be wounded with an- 
 guish, Melanie's shall never feel a pang 
 occasioned by my unkindness or neg- 
 lect." 
 
 On the eve of the day appointed 
 for the nuptials, St. Amand mention- 
 ed to Valmire, that a cause which had 
 excited universal interest, and in which 
 he was employed, was on that morn- 
 f3
 
 106 LEM1RA 
 
 ing to be tried, and asked if it would 
 afford him any diversion to hear it. 
 As his compliance with this offer would 
 liberate Melanie from his observation, 
 during several hours, which she in- 
 tended to employ in preparations for 
 her elopement, she pressed his ac- 
 ceptance of it with a fervor which in- 
 duced his assent. Scarcely had St. 
 Amand and his companion arrived at 
 the room of justice, and taken their 
 seats, when a female was led into the 
 hall, habited in the deepest mourning, 
 over whose head a black veil was 
 thrown, which, entirely concealing her 
 face, left nothing visible but a light, 
 graceful form, and a profusion of dark 
 brown hair, which, falling negligently 
 over her back, extended nearly to the 
 ground. 
 
 St. Amand, having with a respect- 
 ful manner and gentle voice, desired 
 her to withdraw her veil, as no dis-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 107 
 
 guise was permitted on these occa- 
 sions, she instantly complied and dis- 
 covered features so beautiful, and a 
 countenance so exalted by its sublime 
 and intellectual expression, that Mel- 
 lidor knew that they could belong to 
 no other than to the Princess of Lor- 
 raine, notwithstanding the deep me- 
 lancholy which appeared on the faded 
 cheek, and in the neglected dress. 
 Grief and astonishment stifled the ex- 
 clamation, which was bursting from 
 his lips; and his feelings became still 
 more agitated, when St. Amand opened 
 her case in the following words: 
 
 " As the daughter of the late Duke 
 of Lorraine. has undertaken to plead 
 her own cause before this tribunal, my 
 province is only to declare the just 
 and noble reasons, which, inducing 
 her to conquer the timidity natural to 
 her sex, have occasioned her appear-
 
 108 LEMIRA 
 
 ance in the parliament of Dijon. The 
 great Charles, whom it is no longer any 
 crime to praise, having, after the seizure 
 of the larger portion of his estates 
 by the late King, contracted a large 
 debt to carry on the expenses which 
 the defence of the remainder of his 
 possessions rendered necessary, was 
 taken and thrown into prison, on his 
 return to the castle, by his unfeeling 
 creditors; whose rapacity, not being 
 extinguished with his life, denies in- 
 terment to the noble body. To pro- 
 cure a mitigation of that rigorous law, 
 which gives to the creditor absolute 
 power over his debtor even after death, 
 the Princess, whose unremitting at- 
 tentions in a damp and noxious pri- 
 son, smoothed the pillow of disease, 
 and whose gentle converse brightened 
 the prospect of eternity, has deter- 
 mined to entrust her cause to no voice 
 but her own ; and, conscious of its jus-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 109 
 
 tice, has resigned all her fears to ap- 
 pear before the administrators of the 
 laws." 
 
 During the progress of this speech 
 Mellidor's blood sometimes circulating 
 quickly through his face, and some- 
 times entirely forsaking it, expressed 
 the warm interest with which the 
 lovely orphan had inspired him ; while 
 the hope of hearing her speak held 
 him in silent and breathless expecta- 
 tion. 
 
 Thrice she essay'd, and thrice in spite of scorn 
 Tears, such as angels weep, burst forth. 
 
 But at length, conquering, with an ef- 
 fort of her powerful mind this ex- 
 treme sensibility, she addressed the 
 court, in a clear and harmonious voice, 
 to the following effect : 
 
 " With the conviction that mercy as 
 well as justice dwells in the hearts of
 
 110 LEMIRA 
 
 my judges ; and, with the conscious- 
 ness that I must possess a more per- 
 fect knowledge of my father's history 
 than a stranger possibly can, I have 
 undertaken to plead the cause of 
 mercy before this venerable tribunal. 
 On this occasion I must not be called 
 vain if I speak with that enthusiasm 
 which every heart of sensibility must 
 feel at the recollection of my father's 
 virtues; who, in a long life, devoted to 
 the service of his species, never suf- 
 fered a day to pass undistinguished by 
 some act of charity, of mercy, or of 
 true glory ; and who, when returning 
 from the field of battle with wounds 
 still bleeding, would refuse the as- 
 sistance of the surgeon, lest the pains 
 of the meanest soldier should be neg- 
 lected. Even his faults, deriving their 
 existence from the benignity, or from 
 the superiority of his mind, were of 
 a nature to conciliate the affections of 
 the good, and the admiration of the
 
 OF LORRAINE. Ill 
 
 great; and thus, while the asylum 
 which he afforded to a stranger and a 
 fugitive, made him obnoxious to the 
 wrath of the sovereign, the pride which 
 would not stoop to supplicate for jus- 
 tice was the occasion of his ruin, of 
 his death, and of my affliction ! Were 
 I pleading before the tribunal of my 
 own country, I could say, this is the 
 man, who, preserving your indepen- 
 dence for so many years, guarded 
 your city from invasion, your trea- 
 sures from pillage, your families from 
 assassination; who, while he possessed 
 the means of subsistence, shared them 
 with the hungry, the naked, and the 
 miserable! It is to this man that, car- 
 rying your cruelty beyond that life 
 with which all animosity should cease, 
 you deny the rites of burial, rites which 
 even the savage and the unbelieving 
 Mahometan will not refuse to his 
 Christian enemies." 
 
 Here her voice faltering the credi-
 
 112 LEMIRA 
 
 tors exclaimed, " We are not cruel, 
 we only ask for justice." 
 
 " Justice," she replied, " will jus- 
 tice save a soul ? Can you not learn 
 a softer word until that awful day 
 when you shall hear the great judge 
 of. the world exclaim, that he will 
 show no mercy to those who have 
 hardened their hearts against the cry 
 of the orphan! and, if your breasts 
 are not touched with compassion for 
 me, oh ! let the thoughts of your own 
 future welfare teach you to be mer- 
 ciful" 
 
 She stopped, while Mellidor, from 
 whose eyes tears softer than the dews 
 of heaven distilled, gazed with the 
 warmest admiration on her sublime 
 countenance, and her gently bending 
 figure. " If," she resumed, after a 
 moment's pause, " the debt for which 
 my father was arrested had been squan- 
 dered in idle luxuries, or in vicious
 
 OF LORRAINE. 113 
 
 pleasures, then indeed I should feel 
 pain at being obliged to address you; 
 but it was spent in protecting his king- 
 dom, in securing the tranquillity of his 
 subjects, in whose cause he exhausted 
 his blood as well as fortune, and ruined 
 his health in defending their rights ! 
 And the grateful return which you 
 offer for so many and such splendid 
 services, is to violate the sanctity of 
 the dead, and to refuse to his noble 
 remains the only mark of kindness 
 which it is now in your power to be- 
 stow, a little earth to cover them!" 
 
 Her extreme agitation now com- 
 pelled her to pause ; while the look, 
 with which her speech was accompa- 
 nied, interested every heart except 
 those of the unfeeling creditors, whose 
 cries for justice had not been quieted 
 by Lemira's pathetic eloquence. 
 
 With a glance of indignant gene-
 
 114 LEMIRA 
 
 rosity Mellidor started from his seat, 
 and attracted the eyes of the specta- 
 tors by his noble figure and animated 
 countenance ; but, perceiving that Le- 
 mira, who had not observed him, was 
 going again to speak, he arrested the 
 words, which he was on the point of 
 uttering, to listen to the sweet sound 
 of her voice. " Oh yes!" she said, 
 while contempt of her enemies stifled 
 her emotions, " you, cruel men, you 
 shall be satisfied by the full comple- 
 tion of your barbarous justice !*but I 
 will assist you in finding out a me- 
 thod by which your ideas of justice 
 may be fulfilled, and by which my 
 wishes may likewise be accomplished. 
 That body, on which you mean to 
 wreak your cruelty, is now past the 
 feeling of sorrow or of pain: but in 
 me youth is yet fresh, and life and 
 health are yet playful and vigorous 
 in my frame; my joints may still be 
 racked by torture; my flesh may still
 
 OF LORRAINE. 115 
 
 be wasted by famine! On me, there- 
 fore, let your vengeance fall who am 
 able and willing to bear it. Release 
 my father's body, and make me in his 
 place your prisoner." 
 
 Astonished at this generous propo- 
 sition, which the creditors immediately 
 accepted, St. Amand endeavoured, 
 but without effect, to dissuade her 
 from persisting in the execution of 
 her project : but Mel lid or, in whose 
 mind surprise was quickly succeeded 
 by admiration, exclaimed with fervor, 
 " O! let me be the sufferer, and let 
 the Princess be free!" This speech, 
 attracting her attention, which had 
 been before so much engrossed by 
 the subject of her distresses that she 
 had not perceived Mellidor, covered 
 her cheeks with blushes as she re- 
 cognised, in the impressive manner 
 and noble countenance of the speaker, 
 a language too well understood by her
 
 116 LEMIRA 
 
 heart; but, by drawing her veil over 
 her face, she concealed its various 
 changes from the observation of the 
 curious spectators. 
 
 " No," she said, while the tremu- 
 lous tone of her voice alone discovered 
 the agitation of her mind, " you have 
 already once saved my father's life, 
 envy me not the happiness of suffer- 
 ing for him, nor suppose I can con- 
 sent to share it with any person, how- 
 ever great may be his merit." So 
 saying, she requested permission to 
 retire to the prison where the body 
 of Charles was detained, to which 
 place Mellidor most willingly con- 
 sented to be her conductor, being in 
 the opinion of St. Amand (who was 
 himself prevented by business from 
 attending her) alone entitled by his 
 rank and character to the high honor 
 of accompanying the Princess of Lor- 
 raine. When, placed by her side in
 
 OF LORRAINE. 117 
 
 the carriage which was to convey 
 tii em to the prison, Mellidor lamented 
 in the language of sincerity and with 
 the accents of grief, that so much ex- 
 cellence was to be buried in a dun- 
 geon ; she replied with a serene coun- 
 tenance and equal voice, " If you 
 could be made sensible of the delight 
 of my present feelings, and could 
 know how little I have to regret in 
 the world which I resign, you would 
 rather rejoice at my happiness than 
 grieve at my misery." 
 
 Scarcely had she pronounced these 
 words when they arrived at the pri- 
 son, the gates of which were no sooner 
 unclosed than its inhabitants, who bad 
 learned the pious motive which had 
 induced the Princess to reenter this 
 gloomy mansion, flocked around her, 
 and testified, by their words and tears, 
 the astonishment and admiration with 
 which her conduct had inspired them*
 
 118 LEMIRA 
 
 Through this crowd Mellidor opened 
 a passage for her to the cell where her 
 father's body was deposited; and, in 
 compliance with her particular request, 
 she was suffered to enter this room 
 alone; and now, the tears which her 
 exalted state of mind had hitherto re- 
 strained, burst forth at the sight of 
 that apartment where she had been 
 his constant companion, and where 
 every object assisted to recall to her 
 memory the tenderness of his affec- 
 tion and the immensity of her loss. 
 " O blessed spirit!" she said while 
 kneeling by the couch, her weeping 
 eyes were cast upwards, " if thou art 
 permitted to look down from those 
 realms of glory upon those whom thou 
 lovedst in the days of thy mortality, 
 forgive these selfish tears which, fall- 
 ing over thy body, assure thee that I 
 have broken thy last command, by in- 
 dulging unavailing grief: O! forgive 
 me that I do not rather rejoice that
 
 OF LORRAINE. 119 
 
 thou art taken from a world of ingra- 
 titude and misery, to be placed in an 
 abode where the sorrows of this life 
 are only remembered, to render your 
 happiness more sensibly felt, where no 
 sin can sully your purity, and where 
 you dwell with your great Creator for 
 ever !" 
 
 Having thus spoken she covered 
 her face with her hands, and conti- 
 nued to weep in silence until the ar- 
 rival of St. Amand, who, entering the 
 room with Mellidor, interrupted her 
 sacred sorrow to commence the fu- 
 neral which immediately took place. 
 
 Wrapped in her veil Lemira follow- 
 ed it : her grief was not ostentatiously 
 displayed to attract the attention or 
 commiseration of the spectators, but 
 was silent and majestic ; and no sooner 
 was the awful ceremony finished than,
 
 120 LEMIRA 
 
 turning to the creditors, she said with 
 an air of calm dignity ; 
 
 " Now I am your property. Come! I 
 will show you the way to the prison." 
 
 How great then was her surprise 
 when they replied, " Your Highness 
 is free : we have no further claims on 
 your person, or your fortune." 
 
 With an exclamation of astonish- 
 ment she turned to Mellidor, and her 
 expressive eyes demanded the expla- 
 nation which her tongue refused to 
 ask : but he, confessing his total ig- 
 norance of the affair, added, " When 
 I offered my person to purchase your 
 liberty, I offered all that I possessed : 
 but, while the inclination alone was 
 mine, the power of assisting you has 
 been vested in some more fortunate 
 person."
 
 OF LORRAINE. 1'21 
 
 At the conclusion of this speech his 
 looks were directed to St. Amand, 
 who, approaching with a respectful 
 manner, confirmed the information of 
 the creditors, and assured her that 
 she was free. " Let not the sense of 
 obligation distress you," he said, " for 
 that is conferred on me : by venturing 
 to pay the debt I have dared to so- 
 licit the friendship of a lady, whose 
 nature and acquirements have render- 
 ed her so much my superior that to 
 hope for it, in any other situation, would 
 be presumption ; and let me entreat 
 you, to oblige me still further by ac- 
 cepting, for the present, the protec- 
 tion which my humble roof will be 
 proud to afford to you." 
 
 Scarcely had he pronounced these 
 words, than Lemira, who had hitherto 
 derived almost supernatural support 
 from the enthusiasm which animated 
 her, being suddenly deprived of this 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 LEMIRA 
 
 great actuating impulse, and, being 
 at once overwhelmed with surprise, 
 joy, and gratitude, felt her strength 
 entirely forsake her, and she fell to 
 the ground before Mellidor, or St. 
 Amand, could fly to her assistance. 
 Dispersing, however, the crowd which 
 surrounded her, Mellidor took her de- 
 licate form in his arms ; and, before 
 the spectators had thought on a me- 
 thod of conveying her to any place 
 where her senses might be recovered, 
 he had quitted the chartreuse, and, 
 passing through the gates of Dijon, 
 had already placed his fair burthen in 
 the carriage which was waiting to 
 transport her to St. Amand's villa. 
 This excellent man quickly joined 
 them; and Mellidor, whose feelings 
 were too strongly agitated to allow 
 him to speak, continued to support 
 in silence the pallid head of Lemira, 
 until they arrived at the place of their 
 destination, where she was placed on
 
 OF LORRAINE. 123 
 
 a bed, in the magnificent apartment 
 which St. Amand had commanded to 
 be prepared for her reception. By 
 the attentions of Melanie's women, 
 the Princess soon began to recover 
 her senses: but when the reviving cor 
 lour indicated a return of life, her be- 
 nefactor, who actually possessed that 
 oenuine sentiment which others do 
 but feign, gently withdrew Mellidor 
 from the room, adducing as a reason 
 that her mind and body would require 
 repose to renovate her spirits exhaust- 
 ed by deep sorrow, and her strength 
 by continual fatigue ; but in reality 
 to spare her the shock of seeing a 
 man, who, by reminding her of the ex- 
 tent of her obligations, would induce 
 her to weary herself with expressions 
 of gratitude which would be as dis- 
 tressing to his feelings as he supposed 
 they would be humiliating to her 
 pride. 
 
 G 2
 
 124 LEMIRA 
 
 CHAP. IX 
 
 Ah ! come not, write not, think not once of me, 
 Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee. 
 Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign ; 
 Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine. 
 
 ELOISA TO ABELARD. 
 
 Mellidor, whose heart was in a state 
 of agitation when he left Lemira's 
 room, of which until his acquaintance 
 with her his placid mind had never 
 been sensible, spoke little during din- 
 ner, and retired early in the evening 
 on the pretence of fatigue, which, 
 though not absolutely feigned, was 
 certainly exaggerated to indulge his 
 sudden taste for solitude.
 
 OF LORRAINE. 125 
 
 Imagining that his wish of being 
 alone proceeded from a desire of re- 
 flecting on the happiness which await- 
 ed him on the following morning, St. 
 Amand retired to bed with the convic- 
 tion that the remaining days of his 
 life (and the weak state of his health 
 prevented him from looking forward 
 to a distant termination of his earthly 
 career) would be passed in contem- 
 plating his darling child's felicity; 
 and he did not lay his head on his 
 pillow until he had returned thanks 
 to the Father of mercies for the bless- 
 ings which he had bestowed on one, 
 who in his own estimation so little 
 merited his invaluable favour. 
 
 In the meditations of Mellidor tran- 
 quillity had no share. When he had 
 passed only an hour in Lemira's so- 
 ciety, he felt a high admiration for 
 her beauty, and a warm interest in 
 her fate. But his heart was now more
 
 126 LEMIRA 
 
 strongly attached by the display of 
 those virtues which he had before only 
 imagined to exist in her ; and his honor 
 and his conscience, taking alarm as 
 the latter convicted him of entertain- 
 ing too tender a sentiment for Lemira 
 while his hand was engaged to Melanie, 
 all the faculties of his mind arose in a 
 state of confusion and anarchy, de- 
 priving him for a time of the power to 
 ascertain the principle of right which 
 lay buried beneath this heap of contra- 
 dictory feelings. But left alone in the 
 still hour of night, when all the va- 
 nities of the world, all the flattering 
 visions of hope, and all the deceitful 
 dreams of love had vanished before 
 the sober eye of reason, he saw the 
 force of his engagements to Melanie, 
 the sacredness of his promise to his 
 father, his innocent sister dragged to 
 the altar and compelled to take the 
 veil : he saw the accumulated dis- 
 tresses attendant on a breach of his
 
 OF LORRAINE. 127 
 
 word with the horror of a just and 
 generous mind; and, asserting the na- 
 tural vigor of his soul, he resolved, 
 let the sacrifice of happiness be how- 
 ever painful, to fulfil his engagements 
 to the young and beautiful heiress. 
 
 " No," said he, exalting his fine figure 
 above its usual height, " I may be un- 
 fortunate, but I will never be guilty. 
 Let conscience be my approver, and 
 I will brave the power of fate !" 
 
 Melanie, who did not appear at 
 dinner, passed the time of her fa- 
 ther's and Mellidor's absence in pre- 
 parations for her departure with Vil- 
 leron; and, as night approached, her 
 desire of seeing him, and her dread, 
 lest some accident should prevent him 
 from obeying her mandate, had in- 
 creased to such an excess that she 
 became incapable of forming any prac- 
 ticable scheme, by which she might 
 elude, in case Villeron did not appear,
 
 1*28 LEMIRA 
 
 the fatal ceremony of the following 
 day. 
 
 'Twas dead of night, when weary bodies close 
 Their eyes in balmy sleep and soft repose, 
 The winds no longer whisper through the woods. 
 Nor murmuring tides disturb the gentle floods, 
 The stars in silent order moved around, 
 And peace with downy wings was brooding o'er 
 the ground. 
 
 This beautiful description of the 
 tranquillity of night presented a fine 
 contrast to the situation of Melanie's 
 mind ; who, now pacing the room with 
 hurried steps now unclosing the win- 
 dow of her apartment, listened in 
 breathless expectation to the rustling 
 of a leaf, or to the love-warbling voice 
 of the nightingale, which sweetly in- 
 terrupted the deep and general si- 
 lence. But to Melanie's unpleased 
 ear even the song of the nightingale 
 was discord ; and to a breast, which 
 was the alternate residence of hope, 
 love, anger, and fear, even the soft
 
 OF LORRAINE. 129 
 
 balm of slumber was denied. Every 
 minute her eyes were fixed on her 
 watch ; and, before the hour arrived 
 which she had appointed as the pe- 
 riod for her meeting with Villeron, she 
 was in the garden anxiously awaiting 
 his appearance. The hour, however, 
 rolled away ! the completion of another 
 was rapidly approaching, bnt still the 
 tardy lover was absent ! She remained 
 in the garden until, the first glimmerings 
 of day assuring her that all hope must 
 be resigned, she started, wildly ex- 
 claiming, "O heavens! he will not 
 come ! and to-morrow I shall be sa- 
 crificed to Valmire! Oh! wretch that 
 I was to confide to the love of a man, 
 when men are alt alike volatile, in- 
 constant, and ungrateful! No, I am 
 no longer the object of his affections ; 
 and therefore hate shall take place of 
 love!" So saying, she rushed with 
 frantic haste into her apartment ; and, 
 throwing herself on the bed, she main- 
 G 3
 
 130 LEMIRA 
 
 tained a sullen silence during the rest 
 of the night. 
 
 On her mother's side Melanie was 
 nearly allied to insanity, and she had 
 herself betrayed symptoms which gave 
 her friends occasion to fear a tempo- 
 rary derangement of her intellect. 
 The dread of irritating this tendency 
 was the principal reason which induced 
 her father to treat her faults with a 
 gentleness, which was ill suited to cor- 
 rect her violent passions, or to awake 
 into activity the dormant virtue of her 
 mind. Apparently she resigned every 
 object which her father did not think 
 it right that she should pursue; but 
 in reality she retained the wish, and 
 she only waited for a proper oppor- 
 tunity to carry it into execution. 
 
 Convinced that Villeron no longer 
 loved her, she felt no further anxiety 
 about her fate ; and, when her women
 
 OF LORRAINE. 131 
 
 entered, she suffered them to dress 
 her in the splendid attire which the 
 fond father had provided for his Me- 
 lanie's decoration. No sooner was 
 her toilette completed than St. Amand 
 led her to Mellidor, who, while he 
 admired the blaze of charms which 
 dazzled his eye, was happy that Le*- 
 mira's indisposition and the recent 
 death of her father prevented her 
 from being present at the nuptial ce- 
 remony. His generous mind did ample 
 justice to his bride; and he strove, by 
 his attentions and his kindnesses, to 
 conceal the melancholy regret which 
 his reason attempted, but in vain, to 
 banish from his heart ; and, while he en- 
 deavoured to detach his thoughts from 
 Lemira, in whose sublime soul he saw 
 too great a similarity to his own, he 
 wished to remember Melanie as the 
 playmate of his childhood ; as a wife 
 who was deserving of his love, and 
 who relied upon his superior strength
 
 13*2 LEM1RA 
 
 of mind for support, and on his ten- 
 derness for affection. These thoughts, 
 however, prevented him from entering 
 into conversation, and he accompanied 
 her to church, with his eyes fixed on 
 the floor of the carriage; and, as Me- 
 lanie preserved the sullen silence which 
 was the effect of unwilling submission 
 to the necessity of her situation, St. 
 Amand was the only person in com- 
 pany on whom the ensuing marriage 
 promised to bestow happiness. The 
 idea of uniting his daughter to one of 
 the first noblemen in France, and of 
 securing her future tranquillity by his 
 amiable disposition and by his excel- 
 lent principles, imparted to the be- 
 nevolent heart of this father a joy that 
 diffused itself over his countenance 
 and manner. 
 
 Scarcely had the nuptial party 
 reached Dijon when a courier, whose 
 haste might have been discovered by
 
 OF LORRAINE. 133 
 
 his foaming horse and dusty garments, 
 arrived at St. Amand's villa, and de- 
 manded immediate audience of the 
 Marquis de Valmire : but, being in- 
 formed that the ceremony was then 
 performing, he could not resist the 
 temptation offered to him by the ser- 
 vants, and therefore stayed to partake 
 their good cheer before he proceeded 
 to Dijon. In a few minutes, however, 
 he again set forward, and reached the 
 church just as Mellidor was assisting 
 Melanie, who had been extremely agi- 
 tated during the ceremony, into the 
 carriage. As she had been all the 
 preceding day in expectation of a 
 courier from Villeron, she trembled 
 lest the letter which was delivered to 
 her husband might have been design- 
 ed for her; nor were her fears de- 
 creased when she perceived him 
 tremble, and turn pale during the pe- 
 rusal of the epistle. Concluding that 
 all was lost, she was on the point of
 
 134 LEMIRA 
 
 throwing herself at his feet to implore 
 his mercy and compassion, when, 
 having finished the letter, he relieved 
 her alarm b} r exclaiming, while the 
 tears gushed from his eyes, " O Me- 
 lanie! my father is dying! At such a 
 moment as this need I stay to apolo- 
 gize for quitting you so abruptly. You 
 have a father too, and your own feel- 
 ings will give you an adequate idea of 
 mine." 
 
 Then embracing St. Amand, he 
 sprung on a horse which one of the 
 servants offered to him, and, desiring 
 Bernard to follow him on another, he 
 set off full speed for Beane; where, 
 not finding the strength of his horse 
 equal to his anxiety to proceed, he 
 commanded a carnage to be prepared, 
 and sent on a courier to order re- 
 lays of horses. Throwing himself into 
 the carriage, he ordered the postillion 
 to drive with the utmost rapidity, and
 
 OF LORRAINE. 135 
 
 then, abandoning his thoughts to the 
 apprehensions which the sudden in- 
 telligence of the Vicomte's illness had 
 inspired, he refused to lose any time 
 in eating or sleeping lest he should 
 arrive too late to be of any service to 
 the beloved author of his being.
 
 136 LEMIRA 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 Is conscience then 
 No part of nature? Is she not supreme? 
 Thou regicide! Oh raise her from the dead! 
 Then, follow nature ; aud resemble God. 
 
 THE COMPLAINT. 
 
 When Mellidor quitted the carriage, 
 Melanie, who could not sincerely la- 
 ment his absence, joined in the praises 
 which St. Amand lavished on his 
 filial piety : but, wishing to conceal 
 the true state of her feelings from her 
 father, she ran, the moment the car- 
 riage stopped at the villa, into her 
 chamber : and, throwing herself on a 
 couch, burst into tears. In the soli- 
 tude of her own apartment, where no 
 eye could witness her weakness, she
 
 OF LORRAINE. 137 
 
 found herself divested of that pride 
 which had till now supported her; 
 and, yielding up her mind to the 
 softening influence of sorrow, she 
 made no exertion to regain her self 
 command, or to divert her thoughts 
 from a subject on which her recent 
 vows had forbidden them to rest. 
 While her mind was thus in a state to 
 receive any wrong impression, a knock 
 at the door obliged her to return an 
 answer; and Lindane, her favourite 
 attendant, who was on the point of 
 delivering a message, was struck 
 dumb at Melanie's disordered ap- 
 pearance : but, soon recovering her 
 power of speech, she exclaimed, 
 " Good gracious, Mam'selle, you have 
 been weeping! and on your wedding- 
 day too! What can possibly be the 
 meaning of this grief?" 
 
 " Ah, Lindane !" said Melanie, turn- 
 ing aside her blushing face, " you
 
 138 LEMIRA 
 
 know too well it was not a wedding 
 with the Marquis de Valmire that I 
 wished for." 
 
 " Why no, to be sure," replied the 
 attendant, affecting to sigh, " Poor 
 Mr.Villeron ! how miserable he will be 
 when he hears that you are married." 
 
 " Very miserable undoubtedly," re- 
 turned Melanie, with a look of indig- 
 nation, " when he might so easily have 
 prevented it." 
 
 " Poor gentleman," said Lindane 
 again, " I dare say he is ill." 
 
 " 111," repeated Melanie, with more 
 anxiety than she should have betrayed, 
 " What reason have you for supposing 
 that he is ill?" 
 
 " It does not signify, for this will 
 give you better information on the sub-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 139 
 
 ject than I can," replied Lindane, draw- 
 ing from her pocket a letter which she 
 held out to the blushing Melanie. 
 " Lindane," she said, frowning, " how 
 dare you suppose that I should read 
 a letter from Mon. Villeron when I 
 was this morning married to another?" 
 
 " Oh dear, Mam'selle, I beg you to 
 pardon me, I had indeed forgotten." 
 But, perceiving that Melanie could not 
 withdraw her eyes from the letter, she 
 dropped it as if by accident, and then 
 saying, " Well! I will tell your father 
 that you will wait on the Princess to- 
 morrow," she left the room. 
 
 For some time the unhappy Melanie 
 gazed on the letter which lay upon 
 the floor, without touching it. " I will 
 not open it," she said to herself; " for, 
 if I find that he still loves me, I shall 
 not hate him; and my heart should 
 now be Val mire's."
 
 140 LEMIRA 
 
 Unfortunately this resolution was 
 not of long duration, for her ideas ra- 
 pidly changing, she added, "But surely 
 I may still retain a good opinion of 
 him : Valmire could not object to 
 that." 
 
 This being the argument which best 
 accorded with her feelings, she yielded 
 to it; and, taking up the letter, she pe- 
 rused in it an effusion of extravagant 
 passion which to her biased mind ap- 
 peared the perfection of eloquent com- 
 position. It concluded with an ardent 
 request that she would indulge him 
 with an interview on that night at the 
 usual place of meeting; and with a 
 prayer that the delay of the post might 
 not have been fatal to his hopes. When 
 she had finished its perusal, she ex- 
 claimed with the accents of agony: 
 
 " O Viileron ! have I then sacri- 
 ficed your happiness and my own to
 
 OF LORRAINE. 141 
 
 a childish and an ill founded resent- 
 ment? But, as it is now too late to 
 recede, I will not see thee, for what 
 canst thou say to unfasten the chain 
 with which I am bound? What canst 
 then urge to convince me that I am 
 not the wife of Valmire?" 
 
 Here her reflections were again in- 
 terrupted by the entrance of Lindane, 
 who brought a message from St. 
 Amand to request his daughter's com- 
 pany at dinner, an invitation which, 
 though at first she declined, she was 
 at last prevailed upon to accept. 
 
 When she entered the room this 
 good man embraced her, and, attri- 
 buting the distress visible in her coun- 
 tenance to sorrow for her husband's 
 absence, and seeing, as he supposed, 
 her love and her sensibility in her 
 tears, he blessed heaven for having
 
 142 LEMIRA 
 
 bestowed on Mellidor qualities which 
 were so well calculated to engage her 
 affections and command her esteem. 
 If the tender father had suspected the 
 impure source from whence her grief 
 was derived, he would not, with fond 
 exultation, have declared himself the 
 happiest of parents, or have regarded 
 with a sort of proud compassion those 
 who were possessed of less amiable 
 or less lovely daughters. 
 
 He entreated her to visit the Prin- 
 cess of Lorraine; who, though se- 
 cluded by her recent loss from the 
 society of the world, did not refuse 
 to see the daughter of her benefactor, 
 whose attentions might contribute to 
 arrest the falling tears and to soothe 
 the solitary grief of the mourner. 
 Having promised compliance with 
 her father's wishes on the following 
 Jay, Melanie was permitted to retire
 
 OF LORRAINE. 143 
 
 to her own apartment; while St. 
 Am and, who concealed from her an 
 indisposition with which he had been 
 seized during the day, sought in the 
 refreshment of sleep the restoration of 
 ease and health.
 
 144 LEMIRA 
 
 CHAP. XI. 
 
 Pour'd in soft dalliance at a lady's feet 
 In fondest rapture he appear'd to lie ; 
 While her fair neck with inclination sweet 
 Bent o'er his graceful form her melting eye, 
 Which his look'd up t© meet in ecstasy. 
 Their words she heard not; words had ne'er 
 
 express'd 
 What well her sickening fancy could supply ; 
 All that their silent eloquence confess'd, 
 As breathed the sigh of fire from each impassion'd 
 breast. 
 
 tighe's psyche. 
 
 The moonbeams shed their lustre on 
 the snowy robe of Melanie: the soft 
 breath of the south wantoned in her 
 chesnut tresses and kissed her cheek, 
 now glowing like the crimson lotus on 
 the banks of the Ganges, now pallid
 
 OF LORRAINE. ' 145 
 
 as the light of the planet which shone 
 refulgent above her head, when, 
 emerging from the passage which 
 formed the communication between 
 her apartment and the garden, her un- 
 equal steps were unconsciously di- 
 rected to the spot which Villeron had 
 appointed for the place of assignation. 
 Sometimes she stopped, and, scarcely 
 raising her eyes from the ground, cast 
 around a glance of terror; and some- 
 times, impelled by love, she proceeded 
 onwards with a hurried foot : now con- 
 science whispered her to return, and 
 she retraced her steps; and now she 
 again directed them in their first fatal 
 course, while every moment her timid 
 looks were thrown behind, and she 
 started with fear at the quickened 
 pulsation of her own heart, or at the 
 sound of the wind gently playing in 
 the lofty lime trees which waved their 
 branches over her head. But her agi- 
 tation was so much increased when 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 LEMIRA 
 
 she reached the well known bower, 
 that she stopped, and, placing her 
 hand on her heart, she murmured, 
 " Did any action, which was not 
 wrong in itself, ever cause me so much 
 alarm ?" 
 
 The reply to this question, which 
 her heart suggested, determined her 
 to avoid seeing Villeron, and she was 
 preparing to fly when the garden gate 
 was unlocked, and she became fasci- 
 nated to the spot by the dark eyes of 
 her lover; who, throwing himself at 
 her feet, exclaimed in the soft voice, 
 but ardent manner of passion, " O 
 my adored Melanie ! since I have been 
 separated from you every day has ap- 
 peared an age, every second a year, 
 and yet have I implored the hours to 
 retard their flight, that I might arrive 
 in time to receive my lovely bride. 
 Tell, oh! tell me the fatal cause of 
 these tears. I tremble, and yet wish 
 to learn it."
 
 OF LORRAINE. 147 
 
 " O Villeron ! you are indeed too 
 late." 
 
 " Too late," he repeated, starting 
 up, while the moonbeams discovering 
 to him Melanie's pale face, he added, 
 " Are you then married ?" 
 
 " Henri, I am," she replied with a 
 convulsive sigh, u and we must part 
 for ever!" 
 
 During the ensuing pause Villeron, 
 who entirely concealed from Melanie 
 the dark workings of his passions, 
 and who seemed to be overwhelmed 
 with grief for the event which she had 
 just announced to him, was arranging 
 in his libertine breast a project, sug- 
 gested by her apparent want of firm- 
 ness and his own still ardent love; 
 and, having determined on his mode 
 of proceeding, he said in a voice so 
 low and mournful as scarcely to be 
 h 2
 
 148 LEMIRA 
 
 heard, while he pressed her hand in 
 his, " And have you then cruelly aban- 
 doned a man who for these last three 
 years has lived only to love you, and 
 has only existed because you smiled, 
 for one who, by immediately forsaking 
 you, has discovered that he was in- 
 capable of appreciating your charms, 
 and that his heart is too cold to feel 
 a passion ardent and eternal like mine? 
 O Melanie! could you then, careless 
 of the miseries of my breaking heart, 
 abandon me to the horrors of a mad- 
 dened brain, and to the agonies of 
 death inflicted by my own sword ?" 
 
 He paused to suffer the impression 
 of his last words to sink deeply into 
 her heart; and that they were chosen 
 with a thorough knowledge of her cha- 
 racter was evident from their imme- 
 diate effect' on her feelings; for her 
 consciousness of occasioning sorrow 
 to the being whom she adored, her
 
 OF LORRAINE. 149 
 
 pity for that sorrow, her pride wound- 
 ed by Mellidor's coldness, were all 
 placed immediately before her eyes 
 by the artful lover's speech, to which 
 she replied ; " And can you think me 
 so cruel as to be insensible of the suf- 
 fering which I have inflicted ? Can you 
 suppose that inconstancy to you has in- 
 duced me to take this fatal step? Ah, 
 no — " she stopped, for tears choked 
 her utterance; but Villeron had heard 
 enough to convince him that her love 
 was sufficiently strong to break the 
 links which attached her to Mellidor; 
 and he, therefore, passionately ex- 
 claimed, " Say not then that we must 
 part, my fairest, dearest creature ! nor 
 precipitate me, by the power of that 
 dreadful word, into the arms of a self- 
 given death; and, if your high sense 
 of propriety forbids you to retain me 
 as a lover, still may the title of friend 
 be mine, and still, with a sentiment 
 which you need not blush to inspire, 
 I may be permitted to enjoy your de-
 
 150 LEMIRA 
 
 lightful converse, and to watch with 
 the anxiety of a brother over the hap- 
 piness of my amiable and lovely Me- 
 lanie." 
 
 " And do you then," she replied in 
 a tender voice, " think that I may, 
 without fear of censure, indulge a sen- 
 timent such as you describe? and can 
 I trust him as a friend whom I have 
 so long considered as a lover?" 
 
 " During the three years that I 
 have been passionately attached to 
 you," replied he, " have I ever endea- 
 voured to mislead your inexperienced 
 youth, or to dispossess your mind of 
 those principles which the prejudice 
 of your education has taught you to 
 respect? Answer me, Melanie!" 
 
 " Never," she replied ; " but 
 
 " Since when then," he added, with- 
 out allowing her time to state her ob-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 1q1 
 
 jections ; " since when have I appeared 
 so base in your eyes ? and what fault 
 of mine has induced you so suddenly 
 to represent me to yourself in such 
 black and odious colours ?" 
 
 " O ! pardon me for entertaining for 
 a moment a suspicion inj urious to your 
 honor; and, believe me, my heart bleeds 
 for the wounds which I inflict. Secure 
 of your honor I resign myself into your 
 hands: oh! assist me to call forth the 
 latent energy of my mind : regard my 
 weaknesses with compassion; and for- 
 tify my heart against yourself." 
 
 These words, pronounced by Me- 
 lanie and accompanied by a flood of 
 tears, were but too well calculated to 
 encourage Villeron's artful views, and 
 to lead him to anticipate with delight 
 their full and speedy accomplishment : 
 but, assisted by the night, he succeed- 
 ed in concealing his ardent feelings;
 
 152 LEMIRA 
 
 and, respectfully pressing her hand to 
 his lips, he said, " O Melanie! when 
 I forget this generous and confiding 
 appeal may I be punished with your 
 hatred, and with all the tortures of a 
 slow and painful death !" 
 
 He then implored her to favor him 
 with an interview on the following 
 night; which, after a few reluctant 
 scruples, she promised to grant. 
 " Then," said he, " at midnight and 
 in this place:" but, as the light of the 
 moon discovered to him a figure in 
 black gliding through the trees at some 
 distance, he added hastily, " No, not 
 here, for here we may be interrupted, 
 but in your own apartment : I will enter 
 through the secret passage." Then, 
 without giving her time to reply, he 
 disappeared through the door by which 
 he had entered. 
 
 " What have I done?" exclaimed
 
 OF LORRAINE. 153 
 
 the affrighted girl at the moment when 
 the door, closing on Villeron, allowed 
 her an opportunity for reflection ; 
 " What have I done? Unknown to 
 my father I have promised a second 
 interview to Villeron. Ah ! would 
 that I could recall my words ! but he 
 is gone too far to hear my voice ; and, 
 as he is now only my friend, surely I 
 may think of him and see him without 
 guilt." This idea was the most dan- 
 gerous that could possibly have oc- 
 curred to her mind ; and it was for 
 this reason that Villeron, who had de- 
 voted his talents for the last three years 
 to the study of her character, had 
 sought to instill it into her breast; 
 that, her eyes being closed on the 
 guilt, her thoughts might, without ap- 
 prehension of danger, be continually 
 directed to him, and that thus he might 
 become so essentially blended with 
 her existence, that it would be impos- 
 sible for her ever to effect a separation. 
 h 3
 
 154 LEMIRA 
 
 A gentle sigh, which seemed to pro- 
 ceed from a heart rather softened than 
 oppressed by sorrow, now recalled the 
 sad reflector from her meditations ; 
 and when she looked up she perceived 
 that the Princess de Lorraine, of whom 
 she had previously caught a glimpse, 
 stood before her. 
 
 The moonbeam fell on the face of 
 the fair orphan, and discovered to 
 Melanie a countenance so illumined 
 by intellect, so exalted by piety, and 
 a form so aerial, that the angelic figure 
 was only recognised to be a member 
 of this lower sphere by the black robe 
 in which she was wrapped, and by the 
 tear which occasionally stole adown 
 her cheek. 
 
 Melanie rose in confusion : but Le- 
 mira, taking her hand, reseated her 
 on the mossy couch ; and then, placing 
 herself by her side, she said in a voice
 
 OF LORRAINE. 155 
 
 whose silver tones stole gradually on 
 her ear, 
 
 " The shadowy twilight which the 
 moon occasions, the gentle gale from 
 the south, the song of the nightingale 
 so much in unison with the heart of 
 the mourner, and, above all those in- 
 numerable worlds which glow reful- 
 gent in their own fires, have all con- 
 tributed to lead me to this spot ; 
 where, seeking solitude, I have found 
 a friend whose love of retirement ap- 
 pears to sympathize with mine ; though 
 all her thoughts must be devoted to 
 the recollection of some past pleasure, 
 or to the anticipation of some expected 
 happiness." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Melanie with a 
 sigh, " the subject of my meditations 
 may be as painful as that of yours." 
 
 "Oh! no!" Lemira replied, "for you
 
 156 LEMIRA 
 
 have a father." The flexibility of her 
 voice, as she pronounced these words, 
 denoted such an exquisite sensibility 
 at the loss of hers, and expressed so 
 well the value which she attached to 
 a parent, that Melanie blushed to 
 think how little was the share to which 
 hers was admitted in her meditations. 
 While, therefore, she pressed Lemira's 
 hand in silence, the latter resumed: 
 " xVnd such a father! His goodness 
 to an unfriended and unprotected or- 
 phan, who had no claims on his be- 
 neficence but those which her state 
 of destitution offered to his benevo- 
 lent mind, assures me that his kind- 
 ness to her, who possesses every right 
 to his affection, must be unbounded." 
 
 " And were you then a stranger to 
 sorrow while your father lived?" in- 
 quired Melanie timidly. 
 
 " Oh ! yes !" replied with emphasis
 
 OF LORRAINE. 157 
 
 the high souled girl, " in his society 
 the hours flew away winged with that 
 happiness which is the inevitable re- 
 sult of a perfect interchange of ideas, 
 of an inseparable union of affections ; 
 and while he talked of morality, pa- 
 triotism, fortitude, and piety, I caught 
 the bright beams as they emanated from 
 his soul; and my breast became warm 
 with the enthusiasm which kindled in 
 his. Even," she continued, while her 
 voice became sensibly agitated, " even 
 when, deprived of his estates by the 
 late King and unrewarded by the in- 
 gratitude of the Emperor, he was 
 dragged to the close confinement of 
 a prison ; even when the noxious va- 
 pours, arising from the want of free 
 air, had diseased a frame already 
 injured by the hardships of a camp; 
 even when deprived of every con- 
 solation except what he extracted 
 from his own internal resources :
 
 158 LEMIRA 
 
 even then the voice of kindness 
 was not silent towards the sharer 
 of his sorrows; even then the pre- 
 cepts of fortitude, of piety, of forgive- 
 ness of injuries, were most strongly- 
 enforced by one, who, by never utter- 
 ing a complaint, never breathing a mur- 
 mur, never pronouncing an invective, 
 gave me an example of silent suffering 
 virtue which taught me what I ought 
 to be, and yet convinced me how far 
 I was from perfection. O Heaven!" 
 added the young enthusiast, " forgive 
 me if one spark of resentment should 
 still remain unextinguished in my 
 breast ! forgive me if, retaining a lively 
 sense of my father's merits, I should 
 also retain a recollection of his in- 
 juries !" 
 
 She ceased: but Melanie, amazed 
 at the greatness of mind which had 
 animated her speech, and which had
 
 OF LORRAINE. 159 
 
 exalted her countenance to sublimity, 
 was unable to reply, and stood trem- 
 bling, astonished, and confounded. 
 
 Having at last recovered herself suf- 
 ficiently to speak, she exclaimed in 
 broken sentences, " Ah ! why did not 
 Heaven sooner deign to give me a 
 friend, whose superiority of mind would 
 have afforded me assistance and sup- 
 port in all my difficulties and doubts?" 
 
 This conversation, the continuation 
 of which might have been productive 
 of beneficial consequences to the half 
 repenting Melanie, was interrupted by 
 Lindane; who warned the fair friends 
 of a falling shower to which the in- 
 terest of their discourse had rendered 
 them insensible. They, therefore, part- 
 ed for the night with mutual regret; 
 and Lindane, accompanying Lemira 
 into her room, said, that she came by 
 the commands of the Marquise to offer 
 her services to the Princess.
 
 160 LEMIRA 
 
 " I thought that the young lady, 
 with whom I have been conversing, 
 was Mon. St. Amand's daughter," 
 said Lemira. 
 
 " And so she is, Madame," replied 
 Lindane ; " but she is just married to 
 the young Marquis de Valmire." 
 
 " I thank your lady," said Lemira, 
 turning her head cjuickly away to pre- 
 vent Lindane from observing the sud- 
 den paleness which had overspread 
 her face ; " but I require no assistance, 
 and you may retire." No sooner had 
 she quitted the room than Lemira, 
 falling into a seat which stood near 
 her, continued for a few minutes to 
 gaze in mute and motionless anguish 
 on the ground ; until, her eyes gra- 
 dually filling with tears, she was 
 awakened from her deep and alarm- 
 ing reverie by the failing of the drops 
 on her hands : then, starting up, she 
 exclaimed, while her cheeks were suf-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 161 
 
 fused with a crimson blush, " O Le- 
 mira! and is thy mind then debased 
 with thy fortunes ? Shall tears of selfish 
 regret be shed by those eyes which 
 are accustomed only to weep in the 
 cause of virtue, for the miseries of my 
 country, or for the calamities of my 
 species? No! I will not grieve the spi- 
 rit of my father by the display of such 
 weakness." 
 
 So saying she proudly wiped away 
 the tears from her face ; and, having 
 passed some time in prayer, which 
 she addressed to her Creator with 
 even more than her accustomed fervor, 
 she retired to bed; where the purity 
 of her conscience soon invited the ap- 
 proach of sleep, which folded her in 
 its embrace until a late hour of the 
 following day.
 
 162 LEMIRA 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 Oh \ mortals, short of sight, who think the past 
 O'erblown misfortune still shall prove the last : 
 Alas ! misfortunes travel in a train ; 
 And oft in life form one perpetual chain. 
 Fear buries fear, and ills on ills attend, 
 Till life and sorrow meet one common end. 
 
 young. 
 
 When Mellidor alighted at his fa- 
 ther's door, his anxiety and alarm 
 were betrayed by the varying colour 
 on his cheek, and the short and rapid 
 inquiry which he addressed to the 
 servant who appeared at the door. 
 " The Vicomte still lives !" was the 
 reply which, accompanied with a 
 mournful shake of the head, induced 
 Mellidor to rush precipitately into the 
 room where the Vicomte usually slept.
 
 OF LORRAINE. 163 
 
 Although prepared for a great altera- 
 tion in his father's appearance, yet the 
 hollow and faded eye, the emaciated 
 face, the languid countenance, at once 
 bursting on his sight, overpowered his 
 fortitude; and, groaning, he sunk upon 
 his knees by the side of the bed, while 
 the Vicomte said, "O my son! my dear- 
 est Mellidor ! I knew that you would 
 never suffer my eyes to be closed by 
 mercenary strangers: I knew that you 
 would never forsake me in the last 
 moments of my existence." 
 
 " My father!" exclaimed Mellidor, 
 tears falling as he spake over the 
 Vicomte's hand which enclosed his, 
 " say not that they are the last : still, 
 still may you live to bless your son !" 
 
 " No, my boy, the visions of this 
 world are fading from my eyes : but 
 I see the glories of another glimmering 
 through this mass of mortality which
 
 164 LEMIRA 
 
 obstructs my more perfect view : a 
 world where every idea of happiness 
 will be realized, and where we shall 
 at last find that perfection which here 
 we have only imagined." 
 
 His soul, which could never bend to 
 the pride of man, submitted with cheer- 
 fulness to the decrees of his Maker; 
 and, being softened by the weakness 
 which required aid, he gave vent with- 
 out controll to the natural feelings of 
 his heart. Gently repressing the vio- 
 lence of Mellidor's grief, he next pro- 
 ceeded to inquire into his temporal 
 affairs ; and, having learnt that he was 
 married, he said, " When you have 
 performed the last sad duties to my 
 earthly remains, return, my dear Mel- 
 lidor, instantly to Dijon; where that 
 peace, which is the reward of internal 
 excellence, will at least be yours." 
 
 " And will not my father," said Mel-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 165 
 
 lidor, raising his head, " deign to in- 
 struct me by his advice, which, given 
 in a moment like this, must make an 
 impression on my mind never to be 
 effaced ?" 
 
 " Advice, my son, is scarcely ne- 
 cessary to one whose goodness places 
 him above those temptations to which 
 less perfect natures are incident; and 
 it is only the romantic excess of every 
 virtue which is to be dreaded in you." 
 
 " And does my father then think 
 that any virtue can be too sublime in 
 its nature, or too high in its degree?" 
 
 " Valor, when carried beyond theline 
 of prudence, becomes rashness; sensi- 
 bility degenerates into imbecillity ; re- 
 ligion bursts into the wild delirium 
 of enthusiasm, or darkens into the 
 gloom of superstition ; glory dazzles 
 the eye, and, carrying us beyond the 
 boundary of honor, plunges us into
 
 166 LEMIRA 
 
 the abyss of folly and of guilt. From 
 these errors, Mellidor! I would guard 
 your youthful mind," added the Vi- 
 comte, his voice growing weaker; " for 
 I fear my endeavours to strengthen 
 the natural sensibility of your cha- 
 racter, and to alter the romantic bias 
 of your ideas, have not been attended 
 with entire success." 
 
 The entrance of the physician put 
 an end to this discourse. His answer 
 to the Vicomte's inquiry, of how long 
 he thought it probable he might sur- 
 vive, increased Mellidor's grief; for 
 it assured him that his father could 
 possibly survive only until the next 
 day. The Vicomte received this in- 
 telligence with calm, but feeling intre- 
 pidity; and, dismissing the physician, 
 he pressed Mellidor's hand and said, 
 " Before I resign my being into His 
 hands who bestowed it on me, let me 
 give you my last directions, which 
 will, I know, be executed by you with
 
 OF LORRAINE. 167 
 
 that promptitude and punctuality with 
 which you have ever attended to my 
 commands. 
 
 Caliste is confined during my plea- 
 sure in the Chateau Meillant, whither 
 she was conveyed by the power of a 
 lettre de cachet procured by my in- 
 terest ; and it is now my wish that she 
 should be released ; but that no ad- 
 dition should be made to the small 
 fortune which I have bequeathed to 
 her, and which places her above indi- 
 gence, though it will not supply her 
 with the means of extravagant enjoy- 
 ment. I have been obliged to leave 
 Rosalie dependent on your bounty: 
 but to whom could I better consign 
 her than to one who, with the title of 
 guardian, will unite that of brother 
 and of friend, and who will waft from 
 her inexperienced innocence the con- 
 taminated breath of the world ?"
 
 168 LEMIRA 
 
 Melliclor mingled tears with his as- 
 surances of a perfect acquiescence in 
 his father's wishes ; and, the Vicomte 
 now falling asleep, Mellidor watched 
 his slumbers with the earnest solici- 
 tude of a son who feels that his love 
 renders his duty pleasing, and that the 
 performance of his duty increases his 
 love, 
 
 After two hours of unrefreshing 
 sleep the Vicomte unclosed his eyes, 
 and in their languid gaze, and the 
 feeble voice in which he articulated 
 his blessing, Mellidor perceived the 
 close of his life swiftly approaching. 
 The agonizing anxiety of this moment 
 stopped the flow of his tears ; but in a 
 few minutes they dropped anew on 
 the inanimate body of his father. 
 
 When there exists a necessity to 
 force the exertion of the faculties,
 
 OF LORRAINE. 169 
 
 grief, though not extinguished, is not 
 weakly indulged; and Mellidor, who 
 now found himself the great actuating 
 spring which was to govern the mo- 
 tion of the late Vicomte's family, and 
 to issue the directions respecting the 
 last sad duties that were to be per- 
 formed, was compelled to rouse him- 
 self from that state of torpid inaction 
 into which he had sunk when the 
 breath forsook his father's body, and 
 to give commands because others could 
 only obey. These pious offices being 
 finished, he thought that some time 
 might allowably be devoted to the in- 
 dulgence of uninterrupted affliction 
 for the loss of a parent to whose heart, 
 at least in the last hours of his ex- 
 istence, he felt himself closely pressed ; 
 and he was now sensible, that, at the 
 awful prospect of death, the mind 
 throws off concealment, and appears 
 arrayed in its natural beauty or de- 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 LEMIRA 
 
 Formity. In the present hour then 
 of silent recollection, the youthful 
 mourner forgot the former austerity 
 of his father's manners; and, while 
 dwelling with sweet but melancholy 
 pleasure on his last expressions of 
 tenderness, he derived an inexhaus- 
 tible source of consolation from the 
 consciousness of his never having occa- 
 sioned one sigh for him to be breathed 
 by a parent's grief, or one blush for 
 him to be kindled on a parent's 
 cheek. 
 
 Many days had elapsed before Mel- 
 lidor could think of executing his fa- 
 ther's last injunctions. He then ob- 
 tained an order for the release of the 
 Vicomtesse; and, meaning to retain the 
 house and servants of the late Vicomte 
 until he could ascertain Melanie's 
 wishes respecting his future esta- 
 blishment, and, having left with the
 
 OF LORRAINE. 171 
 
 Maitre d' Hotel a letter for the Abbe 
 de Fleurville, who was then at his 
 abbey, entreating him to follow him 
 to Dijon, he tore himself with regret 
 from the place where he had spent his 
 boyish days, and where he thought, 
 with his present prospects, that he had 
 enjoyed the happiest years of his ex- 
 istence. After a rapid journey he 
 arrived at Chateau Meillant, where 
 he found the Vicomtesse, whose spirit 
 of intrigue, pride, and extravagance, 
 were subdued by a long and solitary 
 confinement ; by the want of that adu- 
 lation from which her vanity derived 
 its nourishment, and of that theatre 
 on which her follies had been played 
 off with success. Deprived of the as- 
 sistance of art, and habited in a dress 
 of gray camlet, reaching from her 
 throat to her feet, pale from confine- 
 ment, and worn by vexation, Melli- 
 dor no. longer beheld in her that Ca- 
 liste who had sacrificed every duty at 
 i 2
 
 172 LEMIRA 
 
 the shrine of fashion ; but a despair- 
 ing penitent, who had expiated her 
 faults by a severe penance, and who 
 was become the object of compassion 
 and the victim of remorse. When she 
 heard of her husband's death she was 
 greatly shocked : but, finding that 
 Mellidor was to be her liberator, she 
 burst into tears ; and, falling at his feet, 
 declared her unfeigned repentance of 
 the errors which she had committed, 
 and implored his pardon for those 
 wrongs of which she had more par- 
 ticularly been guilty towards himself. 
 Mellidor hastened to raise her from 
 her degrading attitude; and, assuring 
 her of his entire forgiveness, told her 
 that he had provided a carriage to 
 convey her into Languedoc, where she 
 might remain with her daughter until 
 his return from Burgundy; that her 
 daughter was ignorant of her humi- 
 liating punishment; and that, if her re- 
 pentance were sincere, as he believed
 
 OF LORRAINE. 173 
 
 that it was, she should ever find in 
 him an affectionate son and a true 
 friend. Having charged her with a 
 letter to Rosalie informing her of her 
 father's death, he took leave of her, 
 and proceeded with a sorrowful heart 
 across the country towards Dijon.
 
 174 LEMIRA 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 Not poppy, nor mandragora 
 Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world 
 Shall ever medicine thee to such sweet sleep 
 Which thou owest yesterday. 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 The great clock in the city of Dijon 
 had struck one as Mellidor rode ra- 
 pidly through its streets, which were 
 still kept awake by the votaries of 
 dissipation, though the eyes of the 
 mechanic, whose toil had supplied the 
 luxury of his bed, were closed in soft 
 repose. As he approached the abode 
 of St. Amand his heart beat quick: 
 but he started when he traced its com- 
 motion to the idea that Lemira also 
 occupied a place in the villa; and,
 
 OF LORRAINE. 175 
 
 endeavouring to force her image to 
 resign the situation which it obsti- 
 nately held in his mind, he strove to 
 dispossess it with the recollection of 
 Melanie's charms and of Melanie's 
 tenderness. 
 
 Unwilling to disturb St. Amand's 
 family at that late hour, he employed 
 a key which had been given to him on 
 the day of his marriage to procure 
 him silent access to his apartment. 
 Having, therefore, unlocked the gate, 
 he was on the point of entering the 
 garden when he found himself sud- 
 denly attacked by a man who plunged 
 his weapon into his defenceless breast. 
 He did not fall : but, drawing his 
 sword, he placed himself in a pos- 
 ture of defence, and demanded, in a 
 firm and elevated voice, the reason 
 of this unjust and ignoble conduct. 
 Finding, however, that no answer was 
 returned, and that his antagonist was
 
 170 LEMIRA 
 
 preparing to renew his attack, Mel- 
 lidor was compelled to defend him- 
 self from the stroke of the bloody as- 
 sassin ; and a combat ensued, which 
 was rendered doubly terrible by Me- 
 lanie; who, being alarmed by the clash- 
 ing of swords, threw herself with dread- 
 ful shrieks between the combatants 
 and implored them to desist. Mel- 
 lidor replied, " I am ignorant of my 
 adversary and the cause of his enmity : 
 but witness, Heaven ! how unwillingly 
 I have drawn my sword even in the de- 
 fence of my life." 
 
 But Yilleron, seeking only to obtain 
 victory by the death of his rival, per- 
 sisted in the contest ; while Mellidor, 
 whose superior height and skill in 
 fencing, had till now given him the 
 advantage, breathless and almost faint- 
 ing from loss of blood, seemed to be 
 the destined victim of his enemy's 
 barbarity: but the latter, advancing
 
 OF LORRAINE. 177 
 
 with a tremendous thrust for the pur- 
 pose of ensuring success, received the 
 point of Mellidor's sword in his right 
 side, and fell at the moment when, 
 attracted to the spot by Melanie's 
 screams, St. Amand appeared at the 
 gate. Regardless of her father's pre- 
 sence, she threw herself by Villeron's 
 body, lavishing on his senseless form 
 the fondest caresses of agonized love. 
 The dreadful conviction, which flashed 
 upon his mind, that his daughter's guilt 
 was the occasion of the horrid scene 
 now presented to his confused sight, 
 and of the streams of blood that in- 
 undated the ground ; the idea, that 
 the fondly nurtured happiness of his 
 life was for ever blasted, overpowered 
 instantly, with shame and grief, his 
 frame already enfeebled by illness; 
 and, bursting asunder the slender cord 
 which attached him to this world, 
 transported him at once into a re- 
 gion where sin and sorrow cannot 
 I 3
 
 178 LEMIRA 
 
 enter. Melanie, who heard him fall, 
 springing from the ground where she 
 had been lying by the side of Vil- 
 leron's body in a state of distraction, 
 ran to him, and, seeing that he was 
 indeed no more, she uttered a groan 
 which seemed to be the last pang of 
 convulsed nature, and fell insensible 
 on the earth. 
 
 Lemira now entered to view this 
 scene in all its extent and plenitude 
 of horror. 
 
 St. Amand, Melanie, and Villeron, 
 all apparently dead were extended on 
 the grass, which, being stained with 
 blood, exhibited a most dreadful ap- 
 pearance ; and Mellidor, regardless of 
 hjs wound and still erect, though de- 
 prived of the power of moving, stood 
 like a superior genius leaning on his 
 bloody sword, and contemplating with 
 the calmness of despair the horrors with
 
 OF LORRAINE. 179 
 
 which he was surrounded. Terror, pre- 
 vailing over the fortitude of her mind, 
 prevented it during a short time from 
 acting for the benefit of the unfortu- 
 nate: but, soon rising superior to the 
 agony which oppressed her, it resumed 
 its natural functions ; and then, with- 
 out waiting to be informed of the sad 
 cause of this dreadful scene, her correct 
 judgment presented to her the mea- 
 sures proper to be pursued to remedy 
 these disasters, if indeed to remedy 
 them were possible. She ran towards 
 the house, and, having met Bernard 
 who had been alarmed by the noise, she 
 implored him to go immediately and 
 attend his Lord who was severely 
 wounded by an unknown ruffian. She 
 then despatched a messenger to pro- 
 cure two surgeons, and desired him to 
 allege, as a reason to compel their in- 
 stantattendance, that Mon. St. Amand 
 was taken suddenly ill. With faltering 
 steps she next returned to the garden,
 
 180 LEMIRA 
 
 and, again meeting Bernard at the 
 gate, directed him to convey the bodies 
 of Villeron and St. Amand into sepa- 
 rate apartments. She approached 
 Mellidor and entreated him to enter 
 the house and retire to his own cham- 
 ber, where surgical assistance awaited 
 him: but, starting from her hand which 
 she had placed on his arm, he exclaim- 
 ed, while a violentshivering seized him, 
 " Lemira! defile not your innocence 
 with a murderer's touch : give your 
 attentions to those who are more wor- 
 thy of your care; and leave a wretch, 
 whose life is already forfeit to the 
 laws, to that death which his crime 
 so well deserves !" 
 
 Lemira, who was deeply affected 
 by the fixed anguish and despair 
 which she saw impressed on his lofty 
 countenance, answered, " You are then 
 determined to die by your own neg- 
 lect."
 
 OF LORRAINE. 181 
 
 " To die!" he cried, with deep and 
 violent emotion, " No, I dare not die ! 
 With hands stained by the blood of a 
 fellow creature I dare not rush un- 
 called into the presence of the Al- 
 mighty, nor exhibit to the shuddering 
 angels a proof of human temerity suf- 
 ficient to make them weep ! I must 
 live till a disgraceful death on a scaf- 
 fold shall in some measure expiate 
 my involuntary crime: therefore lead 
 me, sweet consoler!" he added in a 
 more composed manner, " lead me 
 where you will." 
 
 The trembling girl was supporting 
 him to the door, when, as they passed 
 Melanie who still lay on the ground, 
 he started and entreated Lemira to 
 return to her assistance. 
 
 Scarcely had he reached his room 
 when the surgeon entered it; and Le- 
 mira, from whom Mellidor had de-
 
 182 LEMIRA 
 
 sired an account of Villeron, whose 
 supposed death hung more heavily on 
 his mind than his own dangerous si- 
 tuation, resigned him to the care of 
 the medical man, and returned to 
 Melanie. Her, with the assistance 
 of Flora, the Princess's English atten- 
 dant, she conveyed into her own apart- 
 ment ; where she was obliged to leave 
 her to the management of Flora with 
 directions to administer to the inani- 
 mate girl those remedies which might 
 the most successfully conduce to her 
 recovery. She then repaired to the 
 room to which Villeron had been re- 
 moved ; and, having learnt from the 
 surgeon who had examined the wound 
 that it was not mortal, she retired, 
 requesting the surgeon to accompany 
 her to St. Amand, whose altered ap- 
 pearance, however, convinced her that 
 medical aid would be administered to 
 him in vain, before the surgeon exclaim- 
 ed, with a look of benevolent compas-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 183 
 
 sion, " The great artery of the heart 
 is burst, and this life is for ever closed 
 on this excellent man." 
 
 The tears, which surprise and hor- 
 ror had hitherto checked, now flowed 
 abundantly from Lemira's eyes : but, 
 recollecting the state of suspense in 
 which Mellidor remained, she desired 
 Abbeville, which was the name of the 
 surgeon, to accompany Bernard to the 
 Vicointe; who would not suffer his 
 wound to be inspected by the ignorant 
 and assuming being to whose care he 
 had been consigned. With this re- 
 quest Mon. Abbeville the more readily 
 complied as Villeron had expressed a 
 desire to be attended by the other sur- 
 geon with whom he was acquainted. 
 
 " Assure the Vicomte," said the 
 weeping Lemira, as Abbeville was re* 
 tiring, " of the safety of that miserable 
 man whom we have just left: that in-
 
 184 LEM1RA 
 
 formation will contribute much to his 
 recovery." When he was gone, the 
 unhappy orphan turning towards the 
 bed, while her clasped hands were 
 raised to heaven, exclaimed, " O my 
 benefactor! my second father! Thou 
 didst but appear to snatch me from 
 the horrors of a prison, to administer 
 consolation to my afflictions, to place 
 me in a state of affluent comfort : thou 
 didst but show me a little ray of hope 
 glimmering through clouds of sorrow, 
 when by thy death it is for ever totally 
 extinguished, and the prospect is again 
 overspread with the darkness of de- 
 spair ! But, O righteous Heaven ! I ar- 
 raign not thy just decrees, nor prefer 
 my own happiness to that of the excel- 
 lent being over whose cold form my 
 tears now descend. Had he lived, I 
 should not, indeed, have been left in a 
 state of perfect destitution; fori should 
 have been possessed of one friend, 
 whose sorrows would have mingled
 
 OF LORRAINE. 185 
 
 with mine: but he would have been con- 
 demned to drag the burden of wound- 
 ed feelings through an existence where 
 no object could have appeared to cheer 
 his gloomy journey; and to have had 
 the rewards which he is now receiving 
 postponed to the uncertain period of 
 many years !" 
 
 "In the ensuing pause of a few mi- 
 nutes the young enthusiast seemed to 
 have forgotten the horrors with which 
 she was surrounded, and even the 
 duties which still claimed her atten- 
 tion : but, soon recovering from her 
 momentary trance, she exclaimed, 
 " By the still small voice of conscience 
 he speaks to me from the grave, and 
 tells me that his unhappy daughter 
 still lives to derive improvement from 
 my advice, and benefit from my care." 
 
 Then, endeavouring to banish from 
 her mind the suspicion of Melanie's
 
 186 LEMIRA 
 
 guilt, and to awaken every feeling of 
 compassion towards this unhappy girl, 
 Lemira proceeded to her room and 
 found her just recovering from the 
 state of insensibility into which the 
 recent scene of horror, and more par- 
 ticularly herfather's death had plunged 
 her. But the first glance she cast on 
 Melanie's eyes, which were fixed in 
 stony stedfastness on vacancy, as- 
 sured her that, though the senses of 
 the wretched girl were restored, her 
 reason remained absent. Almost over- 
 whelmed with this new calamity, Le- 
 mira sent Flora to request Abbeville's 
 attendance as soon as he quitted Mel- 
 lidor ; and before her return, while Le- 
 mira was hesitating how to address Me- 
 lanie, with a piercing shriek the unfor- 
 tunate woman exclaimed, "O Villeron, 
 drag me not down that dreadful preci- 
 pice into the abyss which burns with 
 fire, where demons with flaming hair 
 wait to receive us ! Do not exact from
 
 OF LORRAINE. 187 
 
 me this dreadful proof of love! Save me, 
 O save me, my father! Bat see how 
 pale he looks ! He falls ! and a dread- 
 ful frown still hangs upon his brow ! In 
 pity, O my father! say only that you 
 forgive your wretched, your guilty 
 child! He will not answer! his hand 
 is cold ! his eyes are fixed ! Death has 
 enclosed him in his icy mantle, and I 
 no more shall hear that voice, which 
 was only heard to pronounce bless- 
 ings. O God ! hide from me this cruel, 
 this agonizing sight!" Then, cling- 
 ing to the Princess, she concealed her 
 burning head on the bosom of her 
 friend ; and she, seizing this moment 
 of silence, endeavoured, with the balm 
 of pity and consolation, to heal the 
 wounded mind of the wretched suf- 
 ferer. But, not attending to the com- 
 fort which was offered to her, she con- 
 tinued, without raising her head, and 
 looking up timidly into Lemira's face, 
 to say, " But I was not the cause of
 
 188 LEMIRA 
 
 his death : he was ill before : was he 
 not?" 
 
 " He was," answered Lemira sooth- 
 ingly, " and in any event his death 
 could only have been protracted to 
 the period of a few days, for the com- 
 plaint of which he died must have 
 proved fatal to him," 
 
 " Heaven-instructed consoling an- 
 gel !" exclaimed Melanie, " what com- 
 fort do your words impart to my guilty 
 mind !" 
 
 The comparatively calm manner 
 with which these words were pro- 
 nounced induced Lemira to entertain 
 hopes that Melanie's reason was re- 
 turning: but, bursting from her with 
 a sudden start, the girl cried, fixing 
 her eyes on a vacant spot at the foot 
 of the bed, " There stands Valmire! 
 his sword still red with Villeron's
 
 OF LORRAINE. 189 
 
 blood, prepared to pierce my breast! 
 On his awful brow anger and revenge 
 sit enthroned, while from his tremen- 
 dous eyes the brightness of indignant 
 virtue streams in resplendent flames 
 of light! O Valmire! banish me to 
 the furthest part of the globe! bury 
 me for ever in a cloister! but do not 
 kill me; for indeed I am unfit to 
 die!" 
 
 At this moment Abbeville entering 
 the room, Lemira in speechless agony 
 pointed to Melanie whose deplorable 
 situation so entirely engrossed her at- 
 tention as to suspend, during a few 
 minutes, her anxiety on Mellidor's ac- 
 count. When Abbeville had felt her 
 pulse, by declaring her to be in a high fe- 
 ver, he removed Lemira's fears as to the 
 continuance of the derangement : but 
 he increased her alarm with regard to 
 the danger attendant on her illness; 
 whilst the impossibility of procuring the
 
 190 LEMIRA 
 
 unhappy creature one instant's repose 
 aggravated her complaint, and left 
 little hopes of her recovery. 
 
 Abbeville, now turning to Lemira 
 who stood the pale and motionless 
 image of despair, implored her to quit 
 this scene of woe, and endeavour to 
 take some repose, as, being well ac- 
 quainted with Melanie's disposition 
 and constitution, he could better than 
 any other adapt his consolations, and 
 his prescriptions to her mental and 
 her bodily diseases. Exhausted by the 
 calamities of the night, Lemira con- 
 sented to retire for a time ; but, taking 
 the opportunity of his accompanying 
 her to the door, she made inquiries 
 concerning Mellidor, to which the 
 surgeon replied, " I found him in that 
 state of violent agitation, which, in a 
 sensitive and an upright mind, gene- 
 rally follows the commission of a 
 wrong act; from which though my
 
 OF LORRAINE. 191 
 
 assurances of his antagonist's safety 
 in some measure relieved him, and 
 though the weapon has happily en- 
 tered without touching any vital part; 
 yet, from the great loss of blood, much 
 danger is to be apprehended, or at 
 least a long confinement will be the 
 inevitable result." 
 
 Deeply affected by this account Le- 
 mira sought her own chamber. With- 
 out the expectation of there finding re- 
 pose, she only wished in that retirement 
 to collect her wandering ideas, and to 
 seek, by prayer and meditation, to re- 
 new those powers of the mind, which 
 might enable her to act, at the present 
 fearful crisis, with energy and effect. 
 Having prayed not in vain to the 
 heavenly Providence to direct her 
 measures, so that they might best 
 contribute to the welfare of the un- 
 happy persons, in whose fate her hu- 
 manity was so deeply interested ; and
 
 192 LEMIRA 
 
 for fortitude to sustain her, during the 
 exertion of her painful duties, she rose 
 from her knees with a mind strength- 
 ened and refreshed, but with a body 
 weak and languid from the want of 
 rest. Throwing herself on a couch she 
 began seriously to contemplate the 
 events of the few last hours, and to 
 seek for their causes either in her re- 
 collection, or her imagination. 
 
 She perfectly remembered having 
 seen a man in the garden with Me- 
 lanie : but, the darkness in which they 
 were enveloped leaving his age and 
 form uncertain, her innocent and un- 
 suspicious mind had then decided 
 without inquiry that it was St. Amand, 
 with whom she thought Melanie might 
 delight to stray and converse on the 
 power or goodness of the Creator, 
 speaking in the wonders of the uni- 
 verse: and the views presented by her 
 imagination led her into the wide
 
 OF LORRAINE. 193 
 
 ocean of conjecture, where she had 
 only the dangerous pilot of appear- 
 ance to guide her anxious and woe- 
 driven thoughts. 
 
 " Melanie," she said, " is perhaps 
 the guilty cause of these calamitous 
 events; for what but injured honor 
 could tempt Mellidor to attack the 
 life of a fellow being, to break the 
 laws, and, in any event, to expose 
 himself to certain death ? Or was his 
 sword drawn alone in self defence 
 when assaulted by the lover of Mela- 
 nie? Ah cruel and fatal spirit of false ho- 
 nor ! when wilt thou cease to keep the 
 minds and actions of the noble and the 
 generous in subjection to thy sway? 
 Ah, misjudging men ! will not the se- 
 verity of the laws ; will not the dread 
 of the just anger of Heaven ; will not 
 the benevolent precepts of religion 
 prevail on you to keep your passions 
 within due bounds; and not to re- 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 LEMIRA 
 
 venge your injuries with the sword of 
 the duellist?" 
 
 These reflections were interrupted 
 by the entrance of Abbeville, who 
 told her that he waited on her for the 
 purpose of learning what course of 
 conduct she wished him to pursue, 
 since Melanie, in consequence of his 
 bleeding her, was now become some- 
 what more composed. 
 
 c ' If it be possible," she said, " to 
 preserve the reputation of the unfor- 
 tunate Melanie from the whisper of 
 the slanderer, and to rescue the lives 
 of these unhappy men from the rigor 
 of the laws, it is only by a successful 
 concealment of the events of this night 
 that the deed can be effected. From 
 you, who have been so many years the 
 friend as well as the physician of this 
 family, I need not exact a promise of 
 secrecy ; but your associate, who will
 
 OF LORRAINE. 195 
 
 not perhaps be actuated by the same 
 benevolent motives which govern your 
 conduct, should be cautioned on the 
 subject. Go, therefore, and seek him 
 before he quits this house : explain to 
 him all the reasons which render se- 
 crecy necessary: make him sensible 
 of the miseries which would be the 
 consequence of a divulgement of these 
 calamities ; and, if he has any huma- 
 nity, he will be silent." 
 
 Abbeville, promising to give to her 
 estimable projects all the support of 
 which he was capable, left the room 
 in high, but silent admiration of the 
 character that could combine pity for 
 the guilty with the superiority of vir- 
 tue. 
 
 In a few minutes he returned, and, 
 
 with a countenance of astonishment 
 
 informed the Princess that Mon. Vil- 
 
 ieron had caused himself to be re- 
 
 k2
 
 )96 LEMIRA 
 
 moved to his own house, whither he 
 had been accompanied by his medical 
 attendant. Abbeville, however, added 
 that he would follow him thither, and 
 that he would return to acquaint the 
 Princess with the result of their 
 meeting. 
 
 Rising languidly from her seat, the 
 Princess now went to Melanie, whom 
 she found in a state of unceasing rest- 
 lessness, under the persuasion that 
 Mel lid or, who was alone, as she ima- 
 gined, in possession of her secret, would 
 reveal it, and thus expose her to the 
 scorn and hatred of the world. Her 
 eyes, unwashed by the kindly shower 
 of repentance, were never at rest, and 
 were apparently seeking some object 
 which they yet feared to encounter. 
 Lindane, who wished to see her lady, 
 now opened the door; but no sooner 
 did Melanie perceive her than, utter- 
 ins: the most dreadful shrieks, and
 
 OF LORRAINE. 197 
 
 hiding herself behind Lemira, she en- 
 treated her to take away that .mon- 
 ster who had been the author of all 
 her misfortunes. Finding that it was 
 in vain that Lindane approached, and 
 in a soothing voice endeavoured to pa- 
 cify her mistress, Lemira begged the 
 attendant to withdraw; and, having 
 said that her lady was ill, she did not 
 think it necessary to give any further 
 explanation. Flora then, who was an 
 English girl, and did not understand 
 French, was selected by the Princess 
 to attend on the still delirious Me- 
 lanie.
 
 198 LEMIRA 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 Is this a dagger, which I see before me, 
 
 The handle toward my hand ? Come, let me 
 
 clutch thee: — 
 I have thee not ; and yet I see thee still. 
 Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible 
 To feeling, as to sight? or art thou but 
 A dagger of the mind ; a false creation, 
 Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain 1 
 
 MACBETH. 
 
 Day was far advanced before Abbe- 
 ville relieved Lemira's painful watch ; 
 and, when he arrived, his countenance 
 of deepened sadness and the following 
 account of his mission only rendered 
 her apprehensions greater and her sor- 
 rows more acute. 
 
 " I have made every exertion, but
 
 OF LORRAINE. 199 
 
 without effect, to see the person to 
 whom you sent me: for his close at- 
 tendance on Mon. Villeron makes all 
 access impossible; and I am sorry to 
 be obliged to add, that an unfavorable 
 change in the latter is the occasion of 
 this redoubled attention on the part of 
 his surgeon." 
 
 "Gracious Heaven !" exclaimed Le- 
 mira in the same low voice in which 
 the other had spoken, "and should he 
 die!" The idea of the poignancy of 
 Mellidor's sufferings, if such an event 
 should occur, superseded all other 
 feelings in her mind ; and she per- 
 suaded Abbeville to conceal from 
 him the intelligence, which they had 
 just received, until his recovery should 
 be more certain. 
 
 Abbeville found Melanie's fever 
 somewhat lowered ; and, being de- 
 ceived by the tranquillity which had 
 succeeded to the violent delirium,
 
 200 LEMIRA 
 
 he administered a composing- draught 
 to her; and then proceeded to visit 
 Mellidor, whom he found just awaken- 
 ed from a short slumber. The first 
 question which he asked respected 
 Villeron; to which Abbeville returning 
 such an answer as had been dic- 
 tated by Lemira, Mellidor exclaimed 
 in the fervent language of gratitude, 
 " I thank thee, O merciful God ! for 
 had he died by my hand, however 
 innocent might have been my inten- 
 tion, however guilty might have been 
 his actions, the re^t of my short- 
 ened life would have been sacrificed 
 to the most agonizing remorse. O 
 my father," he added, while the hectic 
 blush, passing from his cheek, made 
 the succeeding paleness appear more 
 dreadful, " how happy art thou to have 
 closed thine eyes, ere they could be- 
 hold the misfortunes of thy son !" 
 
 After a few moments' silence, and, 
 uttering a deep sigh, Mellidor inquired
 
 OF LORRAINE. 201 
 
 in a faltering voice for St. Amand and 
 his unhappy daughter. Abbeville, un- 
 willing to shock his feelings by an 
 avowal of the truth, replied only by a 
 slight motion of his head, and then 
 proceeded to the examination of the 
 wound. " Are they yet alive ?" asked 
 the sensitive and anxious Mellidor. 
 
 " Would that the daughter," he an- 
 swered, " were as happy as the father! 
 for that good man is transplanted into 
 a clime, where his virtues may flourish 
 without fearing the blight of sin or the 
 storm of adversity: but the wretched 
 girl, whose folly has, I fear, occasion- 
 ed all these calamities, has lost, in the 
 wildness of phrensy, the benefits to be 
 derived from repentance, though she 
 retains with unfortunate tenacious- 
 uess the sense of guilt." 
 
 At this account Mellidor was so 
 deeply affected as to be for some mo- 
 k3
 
 202 LEMIRA 
 
 merits unable to speak ; and, when he 
 recovered his voice, and wished to ask 
 of Abbeville an explanation of Me- 
 lanie's conduct, which his intimate 
 acquaintance with the family would 
 probably enable him to give, he found 
 himself so weakened by illness, and 
 his ideas so involved in confusion from 
 the events of the preceding night, 
 that he was obliged to defer all in- 
 quiries of this nature till he could 
 obtain more perfect self possession. 
 With the air of a person indifferent to 
 the result, he next inquired into the 
 state of his wound, and received from 
 his surgeon the following reply : " Could 
 your mind be kept more at ease, I 
 should not fear ultimately any danger; 
 but I foresee a long confinement and 
 much subsequent weakness from the 
 quantity of blood which has been lost." 
 
 Valmire then begged him to return 
 to Melanie, and to send him frequent
 
 OF LORRAINE. 203 
 
 accounts of Villeron ; and, having en- 
 treated his patient to be more com- 
 posed, Abbeville complied with his 
 wishes, and left him to the care of 
 Bernard. ^ 
 
 Abbeville, having opened Melanie's 
 door so gently as not to disturb those 
 within, stopped for a few moments to 
 contemplate the scene which present- 
 ed itself to his view. Melanie was 
 apparently in a deep sleep; but even 
 in sleep, the agitation of her features, 
 the convulsive motion of her lips, and 
 the crimson flush of her cheek, were 
 remarkably contrasted with the inno- 
 cent calm and perfect stillness of Le- 
 mira's figure, and with her face, pale 
 as descending snows, reclining against 
 the bed ; while her arms hanging negli- 
 gently beside her, and her fine eyes, 
 from which fell tears in silent, but 
 quick succession, were cast upward, 
 and completed this most interesting
 
 204 LEMIRA 
 
 and highly expressive picture. As 
 Abbeville advanced the Princess turn- 
 ed her head, and, placing her finger on 
 her lips to show that his patient slept, 
 rose and accompanied him into another 
 room. Here he anticipated the in- 
 quiry, which she was going to make, 
 by saying, that the Vicomte, cheated 
 into comparative composure by the tale 
 which he had told him, did not appear 
 worse than he had done on the pre- 
 ceding night; but that he feared every 
 thing from his patient's extreme sensi- 
 bility when they should be obliged to 
 inform him of Villeron's danger. 
 
 " How extraordinary," she exclaim- 
 ed with a deep sigh, " that one, pos- 
 sessed of such uncommon tenderness 
 of disposition and such a quick percep- 
 tion of what is wrong, should have been 
 hurried into an error of this nature! 
 Deeply, however, as we must lament 
 his misfortunes and deprecate the guilt
 
 OF LORRAINE. 205 
 
 which has occasioned them, we must 
 not suffer them to engross all our care ; 
 but must direct part of our attention to 
 the execution of those duties which 
 still remain to be performed for the 
 excellent St. Amand." 
 
 " Amiable Princess !" he said, " I 
 have already thought on this subject; 
 and, as Melanie now sleeps, let me 
 implore your Highness, for the sake 
 of those unhappy persons whose sole 
 support is now to be derived from you, 
 to take the repose which exhausted 
 nature so much requires; and I will 
 depart to complete those measures 
 which I have commenced for my 
 friend's interment." 
 
 Finding that Melanie still slept, Le- 
 mira proceeded to Mellidor's door, 
 where she listened with breathless 
 anxiety : but, hearing no noise that 
 could occasion her any alarm, she
 
 206 LEM1RA 
 
 entered her own apartment, and, 
 throwing herself into bed, she fell into 
 a short and broken slumber. 
 
 That fortitude, which had sustained 
 her benevolent exertions for the un- 
 happy beings,who seemed to be thrown 
 on her by Providence for protection, 
 could not expel from her mind the 
 dreadful images which had taken pos- 
 session of it; images, which pursued her 
 in the most terrible dreams when sleep 
 had suspended the power of reason. 
 Awaking with a violent start from one 
 of these visions, she found her forehead 
 overspread with a chilly dew, and her 
 whole frame so shaken with horror 
 that some minutes elapsed before she 
 could recall her senses sufficiently to 
 allow her to look round the room, and 
 to be convinced that she had only suf- 
 fered from the impression of a dream. 
 The Making certainty, dreadful as it 
 was, seemed to her less terrible than
 
 OF LORRAINE. 207 
 
 the phantasms which had haunted her 
 during sleep ; and, therefore, rising 
 and wrapping round her a loose white 
 robe, she took the lamp and proceeded 
 to Melanie's room. With a gentle 
 hand she withdrew the curtain, but 
 found to her inexpressible astonish- 
 ment that the bed was empty ! The 
 horror-struck Lemira sought for her 
 in the other parts of the room, but she 
 found only Flora; who, overcome with 
 watching, had sunk into a deep slum- 
 ber. Some dreadful idea, the nature 
 of which she could not exactly define, 
 passed rapidly over her brain; and, 
 with an eagerness which admitted not 
 of delay, she ran into the gallery, and, 
 perceiving a light in Mellidor's room, 
 she pursued her way thither with quick 
 but noiseless steps. Through the half 
 open door she beheld a scene which 
 numbed every nerve with horror, and 
 wrung with anguish and alarm every 
 feeling of her mind.
 
 208 LEMIRA 
 
 Mellidor, unconscious of the im- 
 pending danger, lay in a profound 
 slumber : the tranquillity, that refused 
 to visit him while he retained possession 
 of his senses, was now diffused over his 
 countenance, which, robbed of that fire 
 whose ardor was accustomed to ani- 
 mate his soldiers and to intimidate his 
 enemies, was pale, mild, and melan- 
 choly. His arms were thrown over 
 his head, and left his manly breast de- 
 fenceless and exposed. On the op- 
 posite side of the bed stood Melanie: 
 her hair streamed in wild confusion 
 over her back; her flamy eyes were 
 fixed with the watchfulness of mad- 
 ness on her victim's countenance; 
 and in her hand she firmly grasped a 
 sword which was meant in a few mo- 
 ments to terminate his existence, and 
 to bury in his grave the knowledge of 
 her guilt! Already was the fatal wea- 
 pon descending, when Lemira, spring- 
 ing forwards with that promptitude
 
 OF LORRAINE. 200 
 
 which governed all her actions, seized 
 the arm of the frantic girl ; who, finding 
 her deed arrested, suffered the wea- 
 pon to drop from her now powerless 
 hand, and fell with a dreadful shriek 
 by the side of the couch. Her cry 
 awaking Mellidor, he started up and 
 gazed about him with a wildness that 
 discovered his disbelief in the objects 
 with which he was surrounded. In 
 the effort which Lemira had made to 
 save his life, by throwing her whole 
 strength into her arm, she had lost 
 her balance, and had fallen across the 
 bed, on which lay also his unsheathed 
 sword; and, as JMelanie still remained 
 on the floor struggling in strong con- 
 vulsions, his wandering eye demanded 
 an explanation of this extraordinary 
 scene. But, before he could possess 
 himself of his ideas sufficiently to al- 
 low him to speak, Lemira arose ; and, 
 being divested of her presence of mind
 
 210 LEMIRA 
 
 by the recent danger from which she 
 had saved him, she clasped his hand 
 within hers ; and, while tears of ten- 
 derness and compassion showered 
 from her eyes, she fervently exclaimed, 
 " O merciful Heaven ! are you indeed 
 preserved ?" 
 
 Surprised, delighted, overpowered, 
 Mellidor no longer sought for an ex- 
 planation of those circumstances which 
 had before excited his wonder; but, 
 pressing her hands with wild emotion 
 to his burning lips, he gazed with rap- 
 turous admiration on her tender and 
 elevated countenance, and forgot his 
 situation, his misfortunes, and Ville- 
 ron. Lemira, however, immediately 
 recollected them ; and, deeply blush- 
 ing for the interest which she had un- 
 warily betrayed, she disengaged her 
 hand from his grasp ; and, pointing to 
 Melanie, she cried with anguish,
 
 OF LORRAINE. 211 
 
 " Wretched, wretched girl ! Ah help 
 me to remove her hence, and to re- 
 store her to life !" 
 
 So saying, she retired into the next 
 room for a covering; and Mellidor, 
 employing the moments of her ab- 
 sence in rising and wrapping round 
 him a gown which lay near the bed, 
 was ready on her return to carry the 
 insensible maid into her apartment, 
 where he placed her on a couch, and 
 assisted the Princess in restoring her 
 to animation. While towards her 
 guilty seducer his indignation was 
 somewhat mitigated by the knowledge 
 of the situation to which he had him- 
 self reduced him, for this unfortunate 
 woman he was alone sensible of the 
 deepest compassion; though the dis- 
 simulation which she had employed 
 in her intercourse with him, and the 
 ease with which she had sacrificed his 
 happiness, to gratify a weak resentment
 
 212 LEM1RA 
 
 for the supposed neglect of her lover, 
 might, in a heart less gentle and less 
 generous than his, have excited feel- 
 ings very different from those with 
 which his languid eye contemplated 
 the fair and fallen object under his 
 view. But when his regards were in- 
 voluntarily turned to Lemira's gently 
 bending figure, he was conscious that 
 his sentiments and ideas had expe- 
 rienced a change; and while she, ig- 
 norant of his stedfast gaze, wholly 
 devoted her attentions to Melanie, he 
 resigned himself to the indulgence of 
 that pure and ardent affection which 
 had taken possession of his breast; 
 till he was aroused from his pleasing 
 meditations by its fair subject, who 
 said, addressing herself to him, " Alas, 
 she does not revive ! Remain here, and 
 I will go and see whether Mon. Abbe- 
 ville is returned." 
 
 Scarcely had she left the room when
 
 OF LORRAINE. 213 
 
 Melanie's convulsions ceased, and a 
 few minutes only had elapsed when 
 she unclosed her eyes : but, starting 
 at the sight of Mellidor's figure tower- 
 ing by the side of the bed, she ex- 
 claimed, " And who are you? an in- 
 habitant of heaven or earth?" 
 
 " My name," he replied, bending 
 his expressive brows, " would make 
 you tremble." 
 
 " Ay," she said, " I know it now : 
 you are the Marquis de Valmire." 
 
 "Then," he answered, " I will hasten 
 to remove from your sight an object 
 that must be so odious to you." But 
 as he was turning to quit the room, 
 she fastened her hand on his arm, and 
 cried with great emotion, " Stay, Val- 
 mire! and hear me speak; for I have, 
 thanks to the Almighty Being who 
 has justly afflicted me, recovered pos-
 
 214 LEMIRA 
 
 session of my reason; and I conjure 
 you by the affection which you bore 
 to my murdered father, by the hope 
 which you entertain of pardon at the 
 throne of mercy, by that holy engage- 
 ment which bound you to protect me, 
 and which cannot be cancelled by my 
 guilt, to give me your sacred promise 
 to grant the request, the dying re- 
 quest which I am going to make to 
 you P 
 
 As she finished speaking, her face 
 becoming overspread with a deathlike 
 paleness, her whole force seemed con- 
 centrated in the deep and solemn tones 
 of her voice, and in the convulsive ef- 
 fort with which she grasped the arm of 
 the astonished Mellidor; whilst he, 
 deeply affected with pity for her suf- 
 ferings, and supposing that what she 
 was going to ask was only invested in 
 consequence by her heated imagina- 
 tion, or at least that it had no refe-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 215 
 
 rence to any of his immediate in- 
 terests, gave, without reluctance, the 
 promise required of him. 
 
 " You have promised," she exclaim- 
 ed, and the colour of returning life 
 passed over her ghastly face, " You 
 have promised never to let the cir- 
 cumstances of the duel pass your lips; 
 never to divulge my guilt to the world ; 
 and now I shall die contented, for I 
 shall not die infamous." 
 
 The unhappy Valmire was now 
 awakened to the danger in which his 
 compassion had involved him : he had 
 unknowingly put his life into her power, 
 and she had sacrificed it at the shrine 
 of reputation. As to recall his words 
 was, however, impossible, it only re- 
 mained for him to sustain with cou- 
 rage the prospect of that fate which 
 must be the inevitable result of the 
 secrecy that had been imposed upon 
 him.
 
 216 LEMIRA 
 
 Lemira, on her return to the room 
 with Abbeville, was surprised to find 
 Melanie perfectly composed, and Val- 
 mire leaning against the wall, with a 
 countenance which exhibited the pale- 
 ness of death and the calmness of de- 
 spair. " What are you doing here?" 
 asked the physician with surprise, 
 " The coldness of the morning air 
 may have the worst effects on your 
 yet unclosed wound." 
 
 " Ah," answered he, a faint smile 
 passing quickly over his lips, " it is of 
 no consequence; for in any event 1 
 must die!" 
 
 As he said this he pressed his hand 
 on his head ; and the action, throwing 
 back the long sleeve of his dress, dis- 
 covered a wreath of glittering gems 
 which encircled his wrist: and, while 
 this circumstance confirmed to Ab- 
 beville the belief of his love for Me- 
 lanie, it imparted to the blushing Le-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 217 
 
 mira an assurance much more con- 
 genial to the feelings of her heart, 
 though in direct opposition to those 
 ideas of propriety and duty which 
 were fixed in her breast; for in these 
 gems she recognized the bracelet that 
 she had permitted him to take as a 
 gage for the safety of her father's life, 
 when, unfettered with any engage- 
 ment, he might without censure ap- 
 pear as her champion. The feeling 
 of alarmed and indignant virtue height- 
 ened the glow of her cheek into the 
 deepest crimson, when she recollected, 
 that he who wore the glittering trophy 
 was the husband of another; and she 
 checked, therefore, the rising hope; 
 and, joining her entreaties to those of 
 Abbeville, they obliged him to retire 
 to his room, whither he was attended 
 by the friendly surgeon. 
 
 Lemira remained with Melanie, who 
 replied to her inquiry, " I am belter — 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 LEMIRA 
 
 much better. I have had dreadful 
 visions ; but they are all vanished now, 
 and, if I could sleep, I should be well. 
 You are the being whom I have seen 
 constantly hovering near me in all my 
 dreams ; and, when I thought you an 
 angel, I wondered why an inhabitant 
 of heaven should deign to visit a wretch 
 like me. Angelic being ! if still you 
 bend your pure nature to pity and to 
 succour my distress, oh ! give me some 
 music, which always lulls my senses 
 and soothes my distraction." 
 
 Although the mind of the sad orphan 
 was not in a tuneful mood, she could 
 not refuse to gratify her patient by 
 granting her request ; and, having sent 
 Flora, who had all this time been 
 buried in sleep, to convey her harp 
 into the room, she thought of a hymn 
 which she had formerly composed with 
 an almost prophetic spirit, and which 
 was perfectly adapted to Melanie's si-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 219 
 
 tuation ; and, when Flora returned, 
 she accompanied the instrument with 
 the following words : 
 
 Thou Power supreme! before whose throne 
 
 Thy vassal, Nature, lies: 
 Unconscious of one act her own, 
 
 She lives beneath thine eyes. 
 
 To thee exists no small or great : 
 
 The fibre of the mite, 
 And the proud sun's enormous state, 
 
 Are equal in thy sight. 
 
 Parent of good ! and Lord of ill! 
 
 Thy smile diffuses joys : — 
 Thy frown, to awe man's rebel will, 
 
 With pains and woe destroys. 
 
 Father of mercies ! visit here, 
 
 In all thy smiles confess'd : 
 Dry with soft hand the gushing tear; 
 
 And still the throbbing breast. 
 
 The phantoms of the madden'd brain 
 
 Submit to thy cont roll : 
 Oh, chase from hence the unholy train ; 
 
 And yield to peace the soul ! 
 L 2
 
 220 LEMIRA 
 
 Send Sleep, thy minister of health, 
 
 With stores ambrosial fraught, 
 To hover here ; and, with sweet stealth, 
 
 To wrap the maiden's thought. 
 
 Far from thy blazing realm of power, 
 
 The drowsy god reclines ; 
 Where genial dews refresh his bower, 
 
 And rose with poppy twines. 
 
 There deep from day's detested glare, 
 
 In silence and alone, 
 He boasts a world supremely fair, 
 
 And sunshine of his own. 
 
 Oh ! hither speed his downy plume, 
 
 And let him bring his heaven: 
 And, as its charms dispel her gloom, 
 
 Oh ! whisper she's forgiven! 
 
 Her voice gradually dying away with 
 the tones of the instrument at the con- 
 clusion of the last stanza, she raised 
 her eyes, and saw with pleasure that 
 Melanie had fallen into a slumber 
 more profound and tranquil than any 
 which she had enjoyed since the com- 
 mencement of her misfortunes.
 
 OF LORRAINE. 221 
 
 The Princess, therefore, arose ; and, 
 desiring Flora to call her when the 
 Vicomtesse awoke, she was proceed- 
 ing through the gallery to her own 
 room when she was met by Abbeville, 
 who told her that all things were now 
 prepared for the interment of St. 
 Amand's body. The tears, which 
 had stood in her beauteous eyes, 
 rushed down her cheeks as she ex- 
 claimed, " I am ready to attend it: 
 alas ! scarcely a fortnight has elapsed 
 since I followed to the grave a parent 
 dearer, far dearer to me than life." 
 
 Covering herself with her veil, she 
 descended the stairs, and was met at 
 the door by a multitude of people; 
 who, having been the objects of St. 
 Amand's benevolence, expressed their 
 gratitude by their grief and by their 
 anxiety to pay the last tribute of their 
 respect to his remains ; and Lemira 
 blamed herself for having felt alone in 
 the world, when there were so many
 
 222 LEMIRA 
 
 human beings whose wants she might 
 supply, whose miseries she might al- 
 leviate, and whose afflictions were in 
 unison with her own. 
 
 The awful ceremony being con- 
 cluded, she retired to her chamber to 
 indulge her tears, and to offer up her 
 prayers and intercessions to the eternal 
 Throne of Mercy ; and these medita- 
 tions, strengthening her pious confi- 
 dence, relieved her surcharged heart 
 of the weight with which it had been 
 oppressed. 
 
 No sooner had she risen from her 
 knees than Abbeville entered with an 
 open letter in his hand ; and his pale 
 and affrighted face induced her to ask, 
 with trembling haste, what new ca- 
 lamity had befallen them? " Henri 
 Villeron is no more!" he replied. 
 
 The Princess started from the couch ; 
 and clasping her hands together in elo-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 223 
 
 quent silence, this action and her coun- 
 tenance alone expressed for some mo- 
 ments the horror that occupied her 
 mind. " And who," she at length ex- 
 claimed, " will be the bearer of this 
 fatal intelligence to the unfortunate 
 Valmire?" ' 
 
 " In his present situation," Abbeville 
 answered, " this information would be 
 highly dangerous; for his exertions 
 last night, and the scene to which he 
 was exposed, have given his wound a 
 more unfavourable appearance than it 
 has before assumed ; and it is much 
 to be feared that this afflicting blow, 
 by agitating his spirits, will have 
 the worsi effects upon his enfeebled 
 frame." 
 
 " Ah! then," she said, " desist for 
 some days from communicating to him 
 this calamitous event ; and prepare his 
 mind by degrees for its reception, lest
 
 224 LEMIRA 
 
 the suddenness of the shock should 
 overwhelm him." 
 
 Having agreed to this proposal, the 
 surgeon repaired to Melanie, whom 
 he found in a state of perfect com- 
 posure, the result of four hours of 
 tranquil slumber; and, upon exami- 
 nation of her symptoms, he discovered 
 that her complaint had changed from 
 an inflammatory fever into one more 
 lingering, but not less dangerous. She 
 talked much of the Princess whom 
 she called an angel of light, and said 
 that she should never be able to repay 
 her the obligations which she had con- 
 tracted. Having administered to her 
 some medicines, and promised that 
 the Princess should soon resume her 
 attendance, he left her and repaired 
 to her fellow sufferer. Deeply affected 
 as was Lemira with Mellidor's mis- 
 fortunes, she yet retained sufficient 
 self-possession to order every thing
 
 OF LORRAINE. 225 
 
 which would, she thought, conduce 
 to the comfort of the unhappy suf- 
 ferers; and the servants, more consi- 
 derate of her than she was of herself, 
 brought breakfast into her dressing 
 room, where she was soon joined by 
 Abbeville. He reported to her that 
 he found Mellidor's spirits extremely 
 high, in consequence, as he supposed, 
 of an increased degree of fever and 
 of the restored sanity of his wife ; to 
 whom, in his opinion, the young noble- 
 man was warmly attached. 
 
 Although a man of benevolent na- 
 ture and of excellent principles, and 
 possessing as scientific a knowledge 
 of the component parts of the human 
 frame and of the diseases to which 
 that frame is liable as any of his 
 profession, Abbeville was not endued 
 with the penetration, whose eagle eye, 
 diving into the human heart, sees at 
 one glance the motives which influence, 
 l3
 
 226 LEMIRA 
 
 and the passions by which it is go- 
 verned. To this circumscription of 
 his view was added a want of suspi- 
 cion which amounted to credulity ; 
 and, implicitly believing every thing 
 he heard without investigating its 
 truth, he was frequently led into error 
 of judgment, where his deficiency of 
 observation left him without the hope 
 of extrication. It is not, therefore, 
 wonderful that he did not perceive 
 that Mellidor's spirits were assumed 
 to hide the bitter workings of his soul ; 
 or that he should believe what St. 
 Amand had told him of Valmire's af- 
 fection for his daughter; or that he 
 should see, or, seeing, should attribute 
 to indisposition the sudden paleness 
 of Lemira's cheek ; or should, without 
 attending to this circumstance, pro- 
 ceed to say that he was extremely re- 
 joiced at having been able to conceal 
 from Mellidor the knowledge of Vil- 
 leron's death ; but that he feared the
 
 OF LORRAINE. 227 
 
 concealment could not be of long du- 
 ration, as the parliament would take 
 cognizance of this unfortunate affair, 
 and that the Vicomte would receive 
 the information through the medium 
 of an arrest. 
 
 " Merciful Heaven!'* exclaimed the 
 trembling girl, " and will he be brought 
 to a trial ?" 
 
 " Most certainly;" he replied, " and, 
 as our young monarch inherits all his 
 father's detestation of duels and all 
 his severity in the punishment of this 
 sort of unlawful warfare, the result of 
 a trial is much to be dreaded." 
 
 " In immediate flight then," said the 
 agonized Lemira, " alone remains the 
 possibility of his escaping the impend- 
 ing stroke of justice until his pardon 
 can be obtained ; an act of mercy of 
 which 1 do not despair, as he has many
 
 228 LEMIRA 
 
 and powerful friends at court. The 
 Kinghas bestowed on him distinguish- 
 ed marks of his favor; and, when the 
 wrath of Villeron's relations is soften- 
 ed by time, I have no doubt of his ob- 
 taining a pardon through the interest 
 of the Prince de Conde and his own 
 acknowledged merits." 
 
 Having perfectly convinced Abbe- 
 ville of the justness of her reasoning, 
 she ceased to speak: but alas! though 
 her arguments assured him of Val- 
 mire's safety, they could not obliterate 
 from her own mind the certainty of his 
 guilt, which the King and nobles could 
 never cancel, and which, at the same 
 time that it rendered his life miserable, 
 must prevent him from being still the 
 object of her esteem. This sad reflec- 
 tion was interrupted by Abbeville; 
 who suggested the necessity of open- 
 ing St. Amand's will, which had been 
 placed in his possession : but the Prin-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 2*29 
 
 cess, unwilling to wound Melanie's 
 feelings in the present crisis of her 
 disorder, desired that this measure 
 might be deferred, as, during the life 
 of his daughter no doubt could be en- 
 tertained of the contents of a will, 
 which, made before her misconduct, 
 must be entirely in her favor. 
 
 The Princess and the surgeon were 
 on the point of departing to their re- 
 spective patients when one of the ser- 
 vants entered with the fruits and ices 
 which Lemira had ordered ; some of 
 which she gave to Abbeville for Mel- 
 lidor, and repaired with the rest to 
 Melanie's apartment. She found this 
 unfortunate woman indulging in the 
 luxury of a copious flood of tears: a 
 happiness which had been denied to 
 her since the commencement of her 
 disorder. 
 
 Lemira, too judicious to interrupt
 
 230 LEMIRA 
 
 this kindly shower of affliction and re- 
 pentance, did not speak to Melanie; 
 but, having desired Flora to retire to 
 her bed, she sat down in silence, till, 
 stretching out her hand, Melanie ex- 
 claimed, " Beloved and admired Prin- 
 cess! will you indeed deign to accept 
 the hand of such a guilty wretch as I 
 arn ? When all the world forsakes me, 
 will you, pure and virtuous as you are, 
 still watch by the side of my bed and 
 keep me awhile from the grave ?" 
 
 " Can you then suppose," Lemira 
 replied, only remembering at that mo- 
 ment that Melanie was unhappy, and 
 pressing the hand, which she held, to 
 her heart ; " Can you then suppose that 
 I shall ever become so unmindful of 
 what I owe to the unfortunate, and to 
 your family more especially, ever to 
 forsake her whose guilt is washed 
 away by tears of repentance, and who 
 imagines that, by participating her
 
 OF LORRAINE. 231 
 
 sorrows, I can assuage them? No, 
 Melanie! 1 am too well acquainted 
 with misfortune, too nearly allied to 
 infirmity, not to pity and to pardon 
 you. Shall an almighty and an all 
 perfect Creator forgive, and shall a 
 fallible and a finite creature be inex- 
 orable to his fellow sufferer?" 
 
 " I feel that death will soon rid me 
 of the sense of guilt and misery: but 
 is my soul prepared to enter into a 
 world inhabited by celestial spirits? 
 Can the Supreme forgive my gross 
 dereliction of virtue? the deception 
 which I practised towards my hus- 
 band, whom I afterwards betrayed? 
 and, lastly, the murder of my angelic 
 father ? Ah ! no ! no ! He never can 
 forgive !" As Melanie uttered these 
 words her emotion became extreme, 
 and, hiding her face with her hands, 
 she burst afresh into tears.
 
 232 LEMIRA 
 
 " And who," cried Lemira with en- 
 thusiasm, " who can limit the mercies 
 of the most High ? What presumption 
 is it in us to pretend to dictate to Him 
 whom He is to pardon, and whom He 
 is to condemn ! Satisfied that our sen- 
 tence is to be pronounced by a tender 
 father, and not by a severe judge, let 
 the contrite heart of the sinner be lifted 
 up to Him in prayer, and we are as- 
 sured by the Redeemer of the world 
 that He will not be deaf to the sup- 
 plication." 
 
 " My monitress! my consoler! my 
 support!" exclaimed the grateful Me- 
 lanie, " I fear I am too weak to kneel ; 
 but let me hear that gentle voice raised 
 to heaven to intercede for the pardon 
 of my sins; and, as my spirit accom- 
 panies your words, perhaps hope may 
 again visit my disconsolate breast." 
 
 With this request Lemira very rea-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 233 
 
 dily complied; and, taking a book 
 which lay on a table near her, she 
 read some prayers with so much proper 
 emphasis, so much pious earnestness, 
 and with such a conviction of the im- 
 portance of her subject, that the mour- 
 ner's heart was penetrated, and she 
 began to regain some of that compo- 
 sure which religion conveys even to 
 the breast of the sinner. 
 
 The Princess had scarcely finished 
 when her attention was attracted by a 
 bustle in the road ; and, on moving with 
 noiseless steps to the window, she per- 
 ceived a body of armed men that had 
 entered the gate, and were already at 
 the door of the villa. Happy that Me- 
 lanie had not been disturbed by the 
 noise, and, too well guessing the cause 
 of their fatal mission, she immediately 
 left the room; and, passing rapidly 
 down the great staircase, she pro- 
 ceeded into the vestibule which she 
 found now occupied by soldiers. She
 
 234 LEMIRA 
 
 was at first startled by the sight of 
 so many men; but, having never as 
 yet found her body or her mind un- 
 equal to any action which was to be 
 performed for the benefit of her spe- 
 cies, she armed herself with courage; 
 and, advancing with a blushing cheek 
 but commanding mien, she demanded 
 who they were, and by what right 
 they disturbed the tranquillity of that 
 house? In reply to this address a civil 
 officer came forward and, producing 
 a roll, said in a respectful manner that 
 he was furnished with orders from the 
 Dijon parliament to arrest the Vicomte 
 de Valmire for the murder of Henri 
 Villeron. Most dreadful as this alarm- 
 ing intelligence sounded in its reference 
 to Mellidor, and, pale and trembling as 
 she was, she yet summoned up cou- 
 rage to ask by whom the prosecution 
 was commenced? 
 
 " By Mon. D'Amarie," he answered, 
 " who being the only remaining rela-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 235 
 
 tion of the deceased, except a brother 
 who is absent from France, has thought 
 it necessary to begin the prosecution 
 with great vigor. You must there- 
 fore pardon us, Lady;" he said, again 
 respectfully bowing, " if we proceed 
 to the execution of our duty." 
 
 " Stop !" she cried, waving her hand 
 with an air of command as he was 
 advancing to open the door of the 
 hall, which Lemira had shut, "you 
 must proceed no further! The Vi- 
 comte de Valmire is confined by the 
 dangerous wound inflicted by Mon. 
 Villeron; which having occasioned a 
 fever, a removal in his present situa- 
 tion could not be effected without the 
 hazard of immediate death. Depart, 
 therefore ! and his surgeon shall in- 
 form the parliament when he can be 
 removed without danger." 
 
 Astonished at her firmness, and at
 
 236 LEMIRA 
 
 the power which she assumed to com- 
 mand where others would have en- 
 treated, the officer gazed at her deli- 
 cate and fragile figure with amaze- 
 ment, and at last replied in some con- 
 fusion. " Our orders are positive; 
 but your word, Madame " 
 
 " If you doubt the word of Lemira 
 de Lorraine," she said with dignified 
 calmness, " I will send for Mon. Abbe- 
 ville in whom you will have greater 
 confidence." 
 
 Ashamed of having hesitated, he 
 assured her that he trusted implicitly 
 in her word, and, having begged and 
 obtained permission to place a guard 
 at the gate, he again bowed, and, or- 
 dering the men to leave the house, he 
 departed. 
 
 Pleased with having rescued Mel- 
 lidor from an immediate arrest, and
 
 OF LORRAINE. 237 
 
 with having gained time for him to 
 recover (for she now resigned every 
 hope of his being able to escape), the 
 Princess flew to Melanie's room where 
 she continued for several hours, while 
 Flora slept, to heal the wounded spi- 
 rit of her unhappy patient, and to 
 watch over her fading form; until ob- 
 serving that she had fallen into a doze, 
 and that her servant was sufficiently 
 refreshed to renew her attentions, Le- 
 mira left the chamber to communicate 
 to Abbeville the necessity of imme- 
 diately informing Mellidor of Ville- 
 ron's death. 
 
 And here we will leave her, to give 
 in the following chapter a slight sketch 
 of the person whose name was intro- 
 duced for the first time in the fore- 
 going conversation, and who now 
 claims some of our attention.
 
 238 LEMIRA 
 
 CHAP. XV. 
 
 His strutting ribs on both sides show'd 
 Like furrows he himself had plow'd ; 
 For underneath the skirt of pannel, 
 'Twixt every two there was a channel. 
 
 HUDIBRAS. 
 
 Diminutive in stature almost to 
 dwarfishness, D'Amarie's body seem- 
 ed to have been worn to its present 
 narrow dimensions by its unceasing 
 restlessness, which was not merely 
 indulged by the continual motion of 
 the whole machine, but was partially 
 extended to his hands, feet, tongue, 
 and eyes, which were never conscious 
 of a moment's repose. Nature, as if
 
 OF LORRAINE. 239 
 
 willing to proportion the mind to the 
 mansion which it was to inhabit, made 
 it so very little, that it was utterly in- 
 capable of admitting one great idea, 
 or of enjoying any thing unconnected 
 with active employment. In short, it 
 was impossible to regard him without 
 being forcibly reminded of that eight 
 legged animal, whose small body ap- 
 pears to be endued with as large a por- 
 tion of life as would animate a being 
 of twenty times its size, and which, 
 moving with a velocity that defies the 
 power that would arrest it, creeps un- 
 invited into every aperture, and only 
 ceases to torment when it ceases to 
 exist. 
 
 The early part of D'Amarie's life 
 was devoted to trade ; but, having had 
 a competent fortune left to him by a 
 distant relation, his friends counselled 
 him to give up business ; and never 
 from that hour did they cease to re-
 
 240 LEMIRA 
 
 pent their ill-starred advice ; for, find- 
 ing it impossible to live without em- 
 ployment, and having none of his own 
 to pursue, he made his friends the ob- 
 jects of his attention. Among his ac- 
 quaintance were there any between 
 whom a difference of opinion gene- 
 rated a coolness? His ill conducted 
 measures, to effect a reconciliation, 
 made the breach irreparable. Were 
 there any whose temporal affairs were 
 deranged? If D'Amarie's services were 
 accepted to settle them, they were 
 frequently involved in ruin. Some- 
 times, indeed, he was more fortunate; 
 but as he must be always busy, he 
 often undertook what he did not un- 
 derstand ; and, though it is to be hoped 
 that he preferred good to evil, he 
 would rather be engaged in a bad 
 cause than be destitute of employ- 
 ment. His own spare person was not 
 the only evidence of the perturbation 
 of his spirit; for his wife, his children,
 
 OF LORRAINE. 241 
 
 nay, his dog, and cat, were all equally 
 lean : and that unhappy piece of horse- 
 flesh which was obliged, like the fa- 
 mous Rosinante of the no less famous 
 Spanish knight, to carry his master 
 whither the " foul fiend" directed him, 
 was a proper subject for the lecturers 
 on natural history; his skeleton being 
 sufficiently conspicuous without the 
 aid of dissection, or of any further re- 
 duction made by the hand of death. 
 
 It was this man to whom Villeron, 
 perfectly acquainted as he was with 
 his cousin's character, committed in 
 his will the prosecution of Mellidor; 
 well assured that D'Amarie's activity 
 was a pest which neither died or slept, 
 and which would not allow Valmire 
 to escape that punishment which 
 Henri's revengeful spirit ardently de- 
 sired, even when it was going to re- 
 ceive its own final sentence. A few mi- 
 nutes before this took place, the sur- 
 
 VOL. I. m
 
 242 LEMIRA 
 
 geon desired D'Amarie to leave the 
 room, whither he was not allowed to 
 return until the body was confined in 
 the coffin, which was done almost im- 
 mediately on account of the mortified 
 state of the wound. The surgeon then 
 despatched a letter to Abbeville, ac- 
 quainting him with the fact: the fu- 
 neral quickly followed; which was 
 conducted with great privacy, the 
 body being carried out at a back 
 door for the purpose of avoiding the 
 creditors of the deceased ; who assem- 
 bled round the house in crowds, calling 
 loudly for an examination of his af- 
 fairs, by which they hoped that their 
 demands would be satisfied. 
 
 Having guarded, as he supposed, 
 every avenue by which Mellidor might 
 effect his escape, D'Amarie proceed- 
 ed to look into the accounts of his rela- 
 tion: but greatly was he disappointed to 
 find that Villeron had expended all the 
 fortune which his father had bequeath-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 243 
 
 ed to him, and was besides so deeply 
 involved in debt, that, if he had pre- 
 served his life, he must have lost his 
 liberty. D'Amarie now called in the 
 creditors ; and, declaring to them the 
 situation in which he found his cousin's 
 circumstances, said, that, however he 
 might be grieved for the losses which 
 they were to sustain, he was compelled 
 to dismiss them without payment. 
 Finding that no other answer was to 
 be obtained, they departed ; some 
 uttering bitter imprecations, some in 
 dignified silence, and some with the 
 acknowledgment of being rightly 
 served for having trusted a man of 
 Villeron's notorious character. This 
 business being adjusted, D'Amarie 
 went without loss of time to the par- 
 liament, where he Mas informed that 
 he had acted injudiciously in ac-' 
 cusing the Vicomte de Valmire of 
 murder; as the surgeon who attended 
 him had sworn before the parliament, 
 that the illness, which prevented the 
 m 2
 
 244 LEMIRA 
 
 Vicomte from being brought to trial, 
 was the consequence of the wound 
 which he had received from Villeron; 
 and that, if he persisted in the words 
 of the accusation, the sword, still stain- 
 ed with Mellidor's blood and having 
 the name of Henri Villeron inscribed 
 on it, would be produced on the trial. 
 For these reasons D'Amarie was 
 obliged to change the word murder 
 into those of killing a man in a duel ; a 
 crime which, by the old laws of France, 
 rendered its perpetrator equally ob- 
 noxious to the punishment of death. 
 Understanding that, from the state- 
 ment of the surgeon, Mellidor could 
 not be instantly removed for trial, and 
 that the parliament, wishing to show 
 every respect to his rank and to his 
 high character, had confined him in 
 his own house, D'Amarie was forced 
 to depart, though he never suffered an 
 hour to elapse without making in- 
 quiries after the health of his medi- 
 tated victim.
 
 OF LORRAINE. 245 
 
 CHAP. XVI. 
 
 Who is it that hath died for this offence 1 
 There's many have committed it. 
 
 The law hath not been dead, though it has slept. 
 
 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 
 
 Scarcely had Lemira issued from 
 Melanie's chamber when her atten- 
 tion was fixed by a person who enter- 
 ed, at the same moment, from the 
 other end of the gallery. It was a 
 tall, slight, and gently bending figure, 
 to which age had lent its venerable- 
 ness without imparting its infirmity; 
 and in which the vivid tints of youth, 
 being mellowed by the hand of time,
 
 246 LEMIRA 
 
 left the sensibility, intelligence, and 
 benignity of the countenance in full 
 vigor. His soft silvery hair was 
 thrown back from his forehead, and 
 concealed not the bright serenity of 
 his eyes which " shone sweetly lam- 
 bent with celestial day." Impressed 
 with that respect which an amiable 
 appearance, when united to years, 
 never fails to excite in the hearts of 
 the young and unsophisticated, Le- 
 mira advanced with a smile of bene- 
 volence, and was going to address him, 
 when he prevented her by inquiring 
 in a voice that exactly corresponded 
 with his countenance for the Vicomte 
 de Valmire. The Princess regarded 
 him for a few moments without speak- 
 ing; and as, in this interval of silence, 
 the deep dejection of her countenance 
 was not unperceived by him, or his 
 perception of it unaccompanied by 
 the expression of solicitude as to its 
 cause, she begged him to follow her
 
 OF LORRAINE. 247 
 
 into the saloon, where his anxiety 
 should be relieved. 
 
 " Pardon me, Madam," he said 
 when they were seated, " for express- 
 ins: the earnest solicitude which I can- 
 not help feeling ; for being, by my cha- 
 racter of his preceptor, perfectly ac- 
 quainted with the many amiable and 
 noble qualities of the young Vicomte, 
 I am deeply interested in whatever 
 relates to him." 
 
 " Alas!" exclaimed the Princess 
 with a deep sigh, " You are then his 
 friend, and are yet unacquainted with 
 his recent misfortunes." 
 
 " A letter from Mellidor written 
 during his last visit at Paris informed 
 me of the death of his father the Vi- 
 comte, and it is to this event, perhaps, 
 the Vicomtesse now alludes."
 
 248 LEMIRA 
 
 " Alas! no," replied Lemira, "I 
 was ignorant of this additional cala- 
 mity." Then, blushing at being mis- 
 taken for Valmire's wife, ^she added, 
 " I am not the Vicomtesse; but I 
 mourn with her the death of her ex- 
 cellent father, whose kindness sweet- 
 ened the bitter draught which it is 
 appointed for me to drink. Monsieur 
 Valmire is contined to his chamber 
 by illness ; but there you will bring 
 friendship to assuage his grief, and 
 piety to calm his afflicted spirit." 
 
 Having learnt the name of the stran- 
 ger she arose ; and, ringing the bell, 
 ordered the servant, who attended, to 
 desire Mons. Abbeville to inform the 
 Vicomte that the Abbe de Fleurville 
 was impatient to see him. 
 
 " Perhaps," said the Abbe when the 
 servant had quitted the room, " the
 
 OF LORRAINE. 249 
 
 unexpected loss of his father has oc- 
 casioned Mellidor's illness." 
 
 Lemira did not reply to this suppo- 
 sition ; but her evident embarrass- 
 ment convinced him that she knew 
 more than she thought it right to dis- 
 cover; and, to relieve a confusion, the 
 cause of which he respected, he again 
 mentioned the late Yicomte's illness 
 in the following manner: " I learnt 
 from the physician who attended him 
 that he had caught a fever, the vio- 
 lence of which nothing could abate, 
 and which had reduced him to the 
 lowest state of weakness before the 
 arrival of his son ; who was, however, 
 in time to receive his last blessing." 
 
 This discourse was interrupted by 
 the entrance of Abbeville, who came 
 to conduct Fleurville to his pupil: 
 but, before their departure, Lemira, 
 who had brushed off the tears which 
 m 3
 
 250 LEMIRA 
 
 dimmed her dark eyes, begged that 
 they would return and dine with her, 
 as she had something to communicate 
 to the Abbe. He willingly accepted 
 her invitation ; but Abbeville excused 
 himself, being obliged, as he said, im- 
 mediately to attend another patient^ 
 from whom he should not be able to 
 return until after the hour of dinner. 
 Having therefore conducted the Abbe 
 to the door of Mellidor's apartment, 
 he then said, " You will find the young 
 nobleman in a state of extreme mi- 
 sery; but I hope that your friendship 
 will be able to give him some conso- 
 lation." 
 
 He then departed, and Fleurville 
 entered the room, where his benevo- 
 lence was much shocked at the change 
 which illness and sorrow had effected 
 in Mellidor's appearance. Unable to 
 rise from the couch, he extended his 
 arms in which he infolded the vene-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 251 
 
 rable Abbe; and, suffering his head to 
 fall on his friend's faithful breast, he be- 
 dewed it with tears, which alone betray- 
 ed for some minutes the unutterable 
 anguish of his mind. At length, the 
 violence of his emotion having sub- 
 sided, he exclaimed, " O my beloved 
 preceptor! my dear, my only friend! 
 forgive these tears which should not 
 stain a warrior's cheek; and which 
 discover that my mind is not suffi- 
 ciently steeled to baffle the arrows 
 of affliction : but if that affliction was 
 unsullied with guilt; if my once fair 
 fame was not to be blackened by the 
 imputation of the worst of crimes; if 
 I was not to be condemned by the 
 sentence of every virtuous heart, as 
 well as by the laws of my country; if 
 every idea was not presented to me 
 through the medium of intolerable 
 remorse, I should sustain the wound- 
 ing rod of the Almighty with the for- 
 titude of a man and of a christian.
 
 252 LEMIRA 
 
 Yes!" he added, perceiving that Fleur- 
 ville's astonishment and horror pre- 
 vented him from speaking, " behold 
 here the evidence of my crime!" 
 
 He then tore open his vest, and dis- 
 covered to the Abbe his breast bound 
 with thick and bloody bandages. 
 Fleurville started and exclaimed, 
 " Merciful heaven ! you have not 
 surely been betrayed into a duel ?" 
 
 With a deep groan Valmire fell back 
 on the couch, and the livid paleness 
 of his face almost induced the Abbe 
 to suppose that he was fainting, until, 
 starting with a sudden violence, he 
 seized his friend's arm, and, regarding 
 him with a look of exquisite agony, he 
 cried, " Would to God that I was the 
 only victim ; but these hands are im- 
 brued in the blood of a fellow crea- 
 ture ! I have sent a guilty being to ap- 
 pear with his unrepented sins before
 
 OF LORRAINE. 253 
 
 the tribunal of his heavenly judge! 
 Ah! that look of horror is what I 
 ought to expect, but what I cannot 
 bear; fori have not yet learnt to sus- 
 tain without shrinking the just indig- 
 nation of a virtuous friend !" 
 
 Although greatly shocked at the 
 error into which his pupil had been 
 betrayed, Fleurville saw the goodness 
 of his heart, and the justness of his 
 ideas in the severity of his self-up- 
 braiding; and, readily acquitting him 
 of any bad intention though he could 
 not think him innocent of crime, he 
 forbore, by reproof, to aggravate the 
 anguish of his feelings : but he knew 
 too well the benefit to be derived from 
 repentance, to endeavour to lessen in 
 his friend the sensibility which he 
 discovered for his offence. 
 
 " It is this," resumed Mellidor, taking
 
 254 LEMIRA 
 
 from the couch the note which had 
 been sent to him by the parliament of 
 Dijon ; " it is this that a few minutes 
 ago imparted to me the fatal intelli- 
 gence of my antagonist's death; an 
 event of which the kindness of the 
 lovely Princess of Lorraine, whose 
 noble courage has been exerted to 
 preserve my feelings from any sudden 
 shock, would have still kept me ig- 
 norant:- but my servant Bernard, not 
 knowing the misery he prepared for 
 me, brought me that letter during a 
 short absence of Mon. Abbeville's, and 
 has thus plunged me into a state of 
 complete wretchedness." 
 
 Having read the note which the 
 trembling hand of Mellidor presented 
 to him, Fleurville said in a mild voice: 
 " And will you not confide to your 
 friend the particulars of this unfor- 
 tunate affair? for, from my knowledge
 
 OF LORRAINE. 255 
 
 of your character, I am induced to 
 think something would appear to mi- 
 tigate your offence." 
 
 " My dear Abbe," Valmire answer- 
 ed with a deep sigh, " every way I am 
 unfortunate! My sufferings would in- 
 deed be sensibly alleviated, could I 
 even to you reveal those circumstances 
 which would convince you, that I am 
 not wholly unworthy of the education 
 which you have bestowed on me; and, 
 that I am in reality more the object 
 of your pity than of your censure: 
 but a sacred promise seals my lips ; 
 and my silence, which will expose me 
 to the condemnation of the law, will 
 stamp villain on my name, and will 
 confound me with the murderer." 
 
 While he pronounced these words 
 he was seized with a fearful shudder- 
 ing; and Fleurville, with the eagerness 
 of strong interest, inquired if there
 
 256 LEMIRA 
 
 were no witnesses to the transac- 
 tion? 
 
 " That question," replied Mellidor, 
 " is too closely connected with my 
 promise to be answered. Believe only 
 that I am less criminal than I appear 
 to be ; and, though guilty of shedding 
 human blood, believe, that the action 
 was rather the result of my unfortu- 
 nate situation than of cruelty or even 
 of passion." 
 
 " I do believe," cried the Abbe, his 
 countenance throwing off the severity 
 it had assumed, " I do believe that 
 you always act according to the dic- 
 tates of true honor, piety, and equity: 
 but why then this remorse? Why these 
 ravings of despair? which might in- 
 duce even those who possess the most 
 thorough knowledge of your character 
 to suppose that passion, smothering 
 the voice of humanity and justice.
 
 OF LORRAINE. 257 
 
 had impelled you to the commission 
 of an unprincipled and a barbarous 
 deed." 
 
 " I am sensible," said the unfortu- 
 nate youth, " that my remorse is dis- 
 proportioned to my offence : but the 
 still small voice of conscience con- 
 tinually whispers to me, that a man 
 has fallen by my hand ; and reason, 
 resigning her power, yields me up to 
 the despotic dominion of despair." 
 
 " Moderate, my dearest Mellidor! 
 this excess of sensibility," said the 
 Abbe with a benevolent smile, " which 
 will be equally prejudicial to your 
 health and to your cause. To me, 
 indeed, you may pour your tears with- 
 out restraint, sensible that I shall at- 
 tribute them solely to that tenderness 
 of conscience which fears to have of- 
 fended; but to the world in general, 
 who think that remorse cannot exist
 
 258 LEMIRA 
 
 unless preceded by great crimes, they 
 will appear as evidences of guilt, and 
 will be the means of condemning you 
 without the hope of pardon." 
 
 He paused for a moment and then 
 added, while the serenity of his coun- 
 tenance was shaded by apprehension, 
 " But as you seem to say that you 
 can produce no witnesses, and, as 
 your fatal promise forbids you to di- 
 vulge the circumstances of the duel, 
 I fear " 
 
 " That the sentence of the judges 
 will be against me," said Mellidor, 
 finishing the period which the affec- 
 tion of the Abbe had hesitated to 
 conclude. 
 
 " Fear not, my respected precep- 
 tor, to tell me that I am to die," and 
 while he spoke, the first smile, which 
 Fleurville had seen, illumined his face,
 
 OF LORRAINE. 259 
 
 " for death is become welcome to me. 
 He is a friend whose approach will 
 suspend my griefs ; and who will carry 
 me before a tribunal where my heart 
 will be seen by the omniscient judge, 
 and sentence will be pronounced on 
 me according to the purity of my in- 
 tentions, and not according to the ap- 
 parent guilt of my action." 
 
 " Admirable young man !" cried the 
 Abbe. " But while I applaud your 
 resignation I must blame the despair, 
 of which I fear it is the result. You 
 cannot refuse consistently with your 
 duty, by a temporary concealment, to 
 escape from justice until the interest of 
 your friends may obtain a pardon for 
 you? You will not certainly refuse 
 to spare your sister the anguish of 
 being deprived of her brother, her 
 protector, her friend? Of one who 
 would guard her inexperienced inno- 
 cence from the contagion of the world,
 
 260 LEMIRA 
 
 would waft from her the insidious 
 breath of vice, and would supply to 
 her the loss of those parents, one of 
 whom has been removed from her by 
 death, and the other by the attractions 
 of dissipation? No, Mellidor! you 
 will not be so unthankful as to 
 throw off those duties which you have 
 yet to perform, because misfortune 
 has ventured to attack you, and the 
 stain of guilt may be a blot upon your 
 name." 
 
 Mellidor, who was much affected 
 during this speech, heaved a deep 
 sigh, and then replied, " If I am ac- 
 quitted of the crime laid to my charge 
 I will consent to live, because I shall 
 then be supposed innocent, and be- 
 cause I consider that I have no right 
 to resign my existence until the gra- 
 cious Being who gave it shall be 
 pleased to withdraw it; and, if even 
 after my condemnation I should be
 
 OF LORRAINE. 261 
 
 pardoned, I will not madly reject the 
 proffered mercy, but will cherish life, 
 according to the dictates of duty. 
 But I should deem myself as much 
 guilty of cowardice if I fled from 
 death when it met me on the scaffold, 
 as I should, if I shunned it when it 
 approached me on my enemy's spear, 
 and threatened me with a more glo- 
 rious grave; and though my reason, 
 when I can listen to its voice, assures 
 me that I am not criminal in the sight 
 of Heaven, yet have I broken the laws 
 of my country, and must yield up my 
 life as the just sacrifice which they 
 claim. Flight would condemn me in 
 the opinion of the brave as certainly 
 as would the sentence of the judge, 
 and would add to the crime with 
 which I am charged, that of preme- 
 ditated baseness. As to Rosalie, ten- 
 derly as I love her and convinced as 
 I am that much of her happiness and 
 future welfare depends upon my ex-
 
 262 LEMIRA 
 
 istence, I cannot, even for her, sacri- 
 fice my honor, though for her I would 
 make a surrender of my life. These, 
 my friend, are my ideas on the sub- 
 ject; which no arguments, deduced 
 from your general philanthropy or 
 your particular affection, can ever in- 
 duce me to change; since I am con- 
 vinced that, if the amiable sensibilities 
 of your heart did not influence your 
 judgment, it would concur in this in- 
 stance with mine." 
 
 The Abbe thought with Mellidor, 
 yet would he not resign his benevo- 
 lent purpose, but added, " O think of 
 your young and unhappy widow, of her 
 tender and disappointed love ! of " 
 
 He was prevented from proceeding 
 by observing a frown settle on Val- 
 mire's brow ; who replied hastily and 
 with evident embarrassment, " Speak 
 no more, my dear Abbe, on this sub-
 
 OF LORRAINE. 263 
 
 ject. I have already told you my re- 
 solution, which nothing can alter. It 
 is better to die by justice than to live 
 with dishonor. In the few days which 
 are allowed me before my trial, your 
 society will be a real consolation to 
 me ; for I have much to say, and much 
 to confide. But you are now sum- 
 moned to dinner:" he added with as- 
 sumed calmness as the sound of a bell 
 caught his ear, " leave me for the pre- 
 sent, my friend ! and, if the Princess 
 of Lorraine can part with you in the 
 evening, return to give me the comfort 
 of your society, and receive my last 
 directions respecting Rosalie." 
 
 " Your last directions, my dear 
 Mellidor !" cried the Abbe with a look 
 of penetrating tenderness. 
 
 " If the result of my trial should be 
 unfavorable," he replied with a smile, 
 intended to convey consolation to the
 
 264 LEMIRA 
 
 afflicted Abbe, " it will be better to 
 relieve my last moments of all tem- 
 poral concerns, that I may wholly re- 
 sign my mind to the contemplation of 
 that awful change of existence which 
 I must very soon experience, and may 
 endeavour with all my powers to make 
 my soul fit to appear before that eter- 
 nal tribunal whence I am to receive 
 my final sentence; but, if I am ac- 
 quitted, my directions, being no longer 
 of use, will be as if they had not been 
 spoken." 
 
 Mellidor now insisted on his friend's 
 departure ; and, leaving the apartment 
 with the tears swelling in his eyes, 
 Fleurville entered the dining-room, 
 and employed the few minutes, which 
 intervened before the appearance of 
 the Princess, in reflecting and com- 
 menting on the peculiar expression of 
 Mellidor's countenance when he men- 
 tioned the Vicomtesse. " Something,"
 
 OF LORRAINE. 265 
 
 said he to himself, " must be wrong 
 there; but I shall soon be able to ob- 
 tain from the Princess the requisite 
 information ; as her residence in this 
 family must have supplied her with 
 the knowledge of those peculiar cir- 
 cumstances which led to Mellidor's 
 mysterious illness, and to the evident 
 displeasure he discovered at the acci- 
 dental mention of his bride." 
 
 Scarcely had he concluded this 
 short soliloquy when Lemira, who 
 had been detained by Melanie, en- 
 tered the room. The presence, how- 
 ever, of the servants during dinner 
 prevented him from addressing to her 
 those questions which he was anxious 
 to have resolved ; and, their minds 
 being too much occupied with the 
 miseries of their friends to allow them 
 to converse on any indifferent topic, 
 they preserved a mutual silence till 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 LEMIRA 
 
 their short and hurried repast was 
 finished. 
 
 Lemira having taken the first op- 
 portunity, after the removal of the do- 
 mestics, to inquire for Mellidor, the 
 Abbe gave her an account of the state 
 in which he found him ; of the frown 
 which he had remarked when he spoke 
 of the Vicomtesse, and implored her 
 to relieve his uncertainty, by impart- 
 ing to him her knowledge on these 
 interesting subjects. 
 
 " At one time I entertained hopes," 
 Lemira replied, " that the unfortunate 
 events which have lately plunged this 
 once happy family into the abyss of 
 misery, might have been successfully 
 concealed from the prying curiosity of 
 the world; but the revengeful spirit 
 of Mon. Villeron's friends, urging them 
 to prosecute the Vicomte de Yalmire
 
 OF LORRAINE. 267 
 
 with the utmost rigour, will shortly 
 disclose those circumstances which 
 ought, for the sake of all who are 
 concerned in them, to be buried in 
 eternal oblivion. But my knowledge 
 of the private history of the Vi- 
 comte's family, and even of that of 
 the excellent St. Amand, is so limit- 
 ed, that I am wholly unable to form 
 a correct opinion on the subject of 
 your inquiry, or to relieve your mind 
 from the doubts with which it is 
 distressed. I only know that the Vi- 
 comte has been engaged in a dispute 
 with a man, who, as Mon. Abbeville 
 informs me, bore a character of great 
 depravity; that this man fell in the 
 conflict, while his antagonist did not 
 escape without a severe wound. Ad- 
 mitted as I have been by St. Amand's 
 kindness into the bosom of his family, 
 it would be criminal in me to betray 
 its secrets, or to examine too curiously
 
 268 LEMIRA 
 
 into the cause of its misfortunes. I 
 am satisfied with endeavouring to im- 
 prove the condition of those whom the 
 accident of my situation has placed 
 under my care." 
 
 " To me," said Fieurville after a 
 pause, " any further knowledge of 
 this unfortunate affair would be of no 
 importance, unless evidence could be 
 brought forward to save the life and 
 restore the lost peace of mind of my 
 beloved Mellidor." 
 
 " Does he then refuse to have re- 
 course to flight for safety?" tremu- 
 lously inquired the Princess. 
 
 " I have already," answered the 
 Abbe, " employed all the arguments 
 and all the entreaties, which my judg- 
 ment and my affection could supply, 
 to induce him to take the step which
 
 OP LORRAINE. 269 
 
 you suggest ; but alas ! my efforts have 
 been entirely unsuccessful! Taking 
 the field on the side of high honor he 
 controverts all my arguments, resists 
 all my entreaties, and has dismissed 
 me from the room, while he exults in 
 the victory which he has gained over 
 my reason, but not over my affection. 
 O noble Lady! not having had the 
 opportunity, which my office of pre- 
 ceptor has given to me of becoming 
 intimately acquainted with the virtues 
 of Mellidor's mind, you cannot fully 
 estimate his worth, or imagine the 
 poignancy of my feelings on seeing 
 the noble structure which I, with the 
 blessing of Heaven, had erected, laid 
 prostrate on the earth !" 
 
 The tears, which flowed from the 
 Abbe's mild eyes as he ceased to 
 speak, endeared him to Lemira, who, 
 however, discovered her interest in
 
 270 LEMIRA 
 
 the misfortunes of Mellidor only by 
 breathing a deep drawn sigh. 
 
 " There is one method," resumed 
 Flenrville, after a few moments' re- 
 flection, " which might yet possibly 
 succeed in inducing my unfortunate 
 friend to escape; if your Highness 
 would deign to give your assistance 
 towards its accomplishment?" 
 
 " Ah," replied Lemira, " any ser- 
 vices of mine, which have for their ob- 
 ject the preservation of a fellow crea- 
 ture, you may command." 
 
 He then implored her to vouchsafe 
 to see the Vicomte, and to employ her 
 influence to persuade him to evade 
 the power of the law until the fury of 
 Mon. Villeron's relations should in 
 some measure subside. 
 
 " Most willingly, " she answered,
 
 OF LORRAINE. 27i 
 
 " would I thus earn your gratitude ; 
 but, being assured that I possess no 
 influence with the Vicomte de Val- 
 mire, I would not expose myself, with- 
 out even the chance of success, to the 
 mortification of a refusal : besides," 
 she added, while the paleness of death 
 overspread her face, " to save him 
 from the hazard of an immediate re- 
 moval to prison, I imprudently pledged 
 my word for his appearance before the 
 parliament of Dijon, whenever the 
 state of his wound should allow him 
 to quit, without danger, the quiet of 
 his present confinement; and I should 
 disdain to have recourse to artifice, 
 even to save the life of the Vicomte, 
 to whom I am indebted for more 
 than the preservation of my own ex- 
 istence." 
 
 Though the Abbe's hopes were ex- 
 tinguished by this speech, his ad mi-
 
 272 LEMIRA OF LORRAINE. 
 
 ration of the firmness and integrity, 
 which dictated it, made him instantly 
 dismiss the subject; and Lemira had 
 withdrawn when Mon. D'Amarie was 
 announced. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 C. WliitUngh.im, College House, Chiswick.