ing in the same strain-and Josephine and Jules Martin, in a differ ent sphere, working to the same end, the former through her respect for the President's wishes, and partiality for St. Maur, and the latter, in the expectation that if his master married an heiress, the benefit of such an alliance would be very tangibly felt by himself-there res mained only the fair Louise, who exhibited an indifference to, or, to speak more precisely, an unconsciousness of, cultivating aught beyond a sisterly regard and fondness for the youth.

But it was this very artlessness which proved perilous to the Se cretary, he felt not, or at least dreaded not, the danger, so long as the maiden herself exhibited no allurement of coquetry. Had she been enticing, he might have been wise and fled. He took no account of the invisible miracles worked by time, and was gradually. led on, till he became conscious by his own emotions that youth cannot stand for ever proof against beauty and innocence; and yet he had not the courage to analyse his state of mind. One thing. was certain, that he felt not the repugnance he had once entertained to visiting the family of the President; it required not so much pressing on the part of du Tremblay to draw him thither; he sought rather than avoided conversation with Louise in the family circle. These were symptoms which he could not trust himself to think of though he did not take the only step, that of instant flight, to avoid the catastrophe which they too plainly indicated.

There might indeed have arisen in the mind of St. Maur some surprise, that the maiden held herself proof against the consequen ees of frequent intercourse with a person of his age and in his position. To say the truth, it looked a little inysterious, and if he had hot been rather anxious to banish than encourage thought, would have afforded subject for reflection. She showed pleasure in

his society; but it was not progressive; it was the same in their early meetings as now; its hue wore a semblance more gay than tender, whilst the feelings of the youth were gradually assimilating to the latter class. What was the magic charm or talisman she wore, which bore her apparently safe through dangers which St.. Maur, as it might be supposed, better armed, was falling a prey to ?

Not in the direct and positive manner which we have pointed out, was this wonderment expressed by the Secretary; but so far as he was conscious of the maiden's indifference, he felt piqued at the circumstance. It was, indeed, the reverse of flattering; not palate able to a youth of St. Maur's pretensions, though very far from helping to extinguish the increasing warmth of his own feelings.

Such was the position of affairs, when St. Maur, returning from a skirmish in company with du Tremblay, repaired with the latter to the house of the President. The family being all assembled, the conversation naturally turned to the events of the day; the perils escaped by the two civic champions in the morning's campaign. Alluding to the constant necessity of sorties to convoy supplies of food and fuel, the President remarked, that not only the family, but all Paris, was deeply indebted to the warriors, who indeed worked very hard for their daily bread.

For something more than our daily bread," said Madame du Tremblay, significantly.

'Why, yes,” rejoined the President, smiling, " du Tremblay is in expectation of the Bastille."

"I am quite certain of it, Monsieur,” cried du Tremblay," which ever way the war terminates; the only doubt is, whether I shall have a cell or the Governor's house.".

"Do not talk so frightfully, Philippe," said Louise, shuddering. "I would rather you were brought home wounded from battle, than imagine you a captive in that dismal place. What is Monsieur St. Maur to have when the war is over? I never hear him mention what he has been promised."

"The Coadjutorship when de Retz's old uncle dies: it will suit his melancholy temperament," said du Tremblay.

"St. Maur, Louise," said the President, "is more disinterested than most of us. He fights only for ladies' love and minstrels' praise."

“I should be better thought of by the ladies," said St. Maur, "if I fought for what du Tremblay has gained. Let the President see the trophy of his valour, Madame," added the youth, turning to the wife of du Tremblay.

The lady produced a massive gold chain, also a smaller chain of delicate workmanship, to which was appended a watch. As the glittering spoil was held up to the admiring view of the old man, Louise cried out, that she too had received a watch from Philippe, which she produced; it was smaller than the one given by du Tremblay to his wife.

Having first examined the costly articles, the future Governor of the Bastille was requested by his father-in-law to relate the exploit which put him in possession of the treasure. There was but little romance in the history, which was as follows. He had wounded and taken prisoner a courtier of the Queen that morning, one hold

ing a post in her household, and who had given him the articles In question, and a large sum of gold, as ransom. The gold he had divided between the treasury of the Fronde, and a municipal collection for the benefit of the poor and wounded of the city; the jewellry he had disposed of in the manner already related.

St. Maur was rallied on his want of good fortune; he had taken nothing of consequence, du Tremblay asserted, since the attack on the cannon at Charenton; nothing worthy of a gift to a lady.

The Secretary laughingly assented to the truth of the remark; the two pieces of cannon taken, were at the ladies' service; they were now gracing the court-yard of the palace, the Fronde being ́destitute of artillerymen. He promised, however, to have a quicker eye in future for the stray waifs of military fortune; and if he could but capture the Count de Nogent, or even the court-poet, Voiture, or some unhappy chamberlain, whose war-horse, disdaining civilian control, had escaped from the ranks, the prisoner should not depart without a ransom outvying du Tremblay's gifts to the ladies.

The system of prompt ransom in the case of capture had become very much the fashion during the Parisian war. Money was scarce on both sides; and it was a much more agreeable process to extract an immediate equivalent for the release of an unfortunate gentleman, or if he had not the gold or valuables upon his person, take the parole d'honneur, for payment within one or more days, than conveying the prisoner to the camp, and awaiting the result of a tardy negotiation with his friends. Besides, as Gourville remarked to the council of the Fronde, if one took ransom of a gentleman on the spot, whether he gave present gold or his word of honour, the same party might be caught again in active warfare on the morrow, subjecting himself to the payment of a second ransom; which could not be the case if he were lying in duress till his relatives raised the money. As friends and kinsmen had in many instances taken opposite sides, there was much room for the interchange of courtesies, and exhibition of politeness towards opponents.

The President, who viewed the increasing partiality of St. Maur for the society of his daughter with more than complacency, took every possible pains to improve their intimacy. The social evenings were enlivened by the charms of Louise's singing, in which she was a proficient; and opportunities were afforded of their being left often alone together, apparently the result of chance. :

The evening amusements were usually terminated by a domestic

· concert, much in vogue then with Parisian families. The male ser vants were generally selected for their skill in instrumental music, as well as the usual qualities expected of the class. In the Presi dent's establishment, the maître d'hotel played well on the bass> viol; the principal officier in the department of the écurie, was a tolerable performer on the flute; and several of the lacqueys acquitted themselves very creditably on the violin.

Of an evening, the band would take its station in the corridor outside the saloon, accompanying the voice of Louise or her sister; and during supper they played concerted pieces. In spite of the grim warrior Turenne, there was much mirth in the city, which promised to last so long as he could not stop the food which found its way to the mouths of the musicians, and their audience.

On the present occasion, the conversation during supper turned on the apathy of the Duke of Orleans, who, favourable to the views of the Fronde, yet stirred not in its behalf, but remained inactive at the palace of the Luxembourg. Two regiments of horse which he com> manded, and which at the commencement of the troubles were en⚫ camped at Charenton, had retired by his orders to the city of Orleans. It was supposed that his intention was, if the disorder of the king dom increased, to retire to that city for protection.

Du Tremblay said that if Noirmoutier had the aid of these troops to keep Turenne in check, an assault might be made on Vincennes with every chance of success. The infantry of the Fronde were now excellent soldiers, and if the object were to liberate the Prince, they would show themselves irresistible.

It was proposed that St. Maur, who had acquired notoriety by his embassy to Conde, should repair to the Luxembourg the next morn ing, and induce his Royal Highness to give to the Fronde the use of his cavalry.

"Excellent!” cried Louise; "and the two pieces of cannon will be of service in battering the walls of Vincennes I shall be glad when the Prince is liberated; he will make Mazarin and Turenne fly before him, and I shall have the delight of seeing our château once more."

"You will owe to St. Maur that delight," said du Tremblay, "for he has often declared that the Prince shall owe freedom to him." "Mine ought to be the task," cried the Secretary, "since I was the occasion of his imprisonment; and if I do succeed in capturing Vincennes, the Governor's ransom shall be laid at the feet of Made. moiselle."

"The chance of seeing our château and little lake again will be quite enough for me,” rejoined Louise.

At this moment, Jules entered with the news that there was waiting one of the Coadjutor's people, with a request from Monseig. neur that St. Maur would instantly return to the palace. The request was couched so pressingly, that the Secretary was forced to comply, and taking leave of his friends, returned with Jules and the messenger.

He found Gourville and Noirmoutier closeted with de Retz. The former had just arrived from Antwerp, whither he had been to negotiate a loan; and some papers were required of which the Secretary had the custody. Gourville had been successful, which was usually the case with him, when employed in financial missions; and when St. Maur entered, he was amusing the two Frondeurs with an account of his reception.

Palavicini, the banker at Antwerp, was reported to possess immense wealth and resources. He entertained the master of the horse sumptuously at his mansion, one of the best in the city. The furniture of the saloons, the wines, viands, and suite of servants, corresponded with his wealth; but to the Frenchman's astonishment, in discoursing of horses, the banker confessed that he had no carriage at least no showy city equipage; a luxury in which the nobles and rich merchants of continental cities indulged to a ruinous extent.

66

I had no cause to complain," said Gourville, laughing, "for he hired a carriage to take me round the city to view its old churches, and call upon the friends of old El Dorado; but I could not help hinting at what I conceived an inconsistency in his ménage."

"And I can well conceive," observed the handsome Noirmoutier, glancing at de Retz, "that where Monsieur Gourville saw a defect, he would nor be afraid to notice it." ..

"He took my recommendation as he ought to do, in very good part," rejoined the master of the horse; "but said that he really could not afford the expensive fashion of a coach and six horses, with all its train of boys and men, with their capacious stomachs, and swaggering liveries. You look astonished, Messieurs, but he spoke sincerely. He took me into his strong room, and showed me the worth of five hundred thousand crowns in bars of silver; 'this,' says he, 'gives no interest at all! there was the same sum at the bank of Venice, paying only three

Showing me his ledger,