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perty is situated. Notice of these must be given
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of sale.
Notice to debtors and creditors of an estate
must be published forty days.
Notice that application will be made to thcCourt
of Ordinary for leave to sell land, must be publish
ed four months.
Sales of Negroes must be made at public auc
tion, on the first Tuesday of the mouth, between 1
the legal hours of sale, at the place of public sales, j
in the county where the letters testamentary, ol |
administration of guardianship, shall have been !
granted, sixty days notice being previously given
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All business of this nature wilt receive prompt 1
attention at the oflice of THE REPUBLIC.
BUSINESS CARDS.
108 PRINTING
JEEESWiftSH) A® E3KHS
* I
With Neatness and Dispatch.
mms* mss**xr 9
Fashionable Dress Making Establishment.
Plumb Street , next to the Seminary.
Orders for Dresses. Riding Habits, &,c. &c. j
executed in the latest and most fashionable style,
and at the shortest notice.
20 ts
JBROWN & SHOCK LEV,
asp 1
MACON, GA.
Jan 1, 1815. 12—ly I
CEO YD HOUSE.
BY 13. S. NEWCOM 13.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19,18-14. l-M
WIIITINU A- MIX,
WHOLESALE AND RETAIL DEALERS IN ;
BOOTS AND SHOES,
Near the Washington Hall, Second street.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 1844. 1-tlj
J. L. JONES Sc CO.
CLOTHING STOKE.
I Vest side Mulberry Street, next door bcloic the 1
Big Hat.
Macon, Georgia. Oci. 19,1844. l-ts
NISBET & WINGFIELD,
AT T O K A E VS AT EA W.
Office on .Mulberry Street, over Kimberly's Hat :
Store.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19,1844. l-ts ;
DOCTORS J. N. A 11. K. GREEN,
Corner of .Mulberry and Third Streets.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19,1844. 1-tl
FREEMAN & ROBERTS.
Saddle, Harness, and Whiff, 1
A > U I- A C T O It Y .
Lhah rs in all hinds of Heather, Saddlery
Harness and Carriage Trimmings ,
On Cotton Avenue and Second street, Macon, Ga.
October 25, 1844. 3-1
SAMUEL J. RAY & CO.
DEALERS IN
FANCY AND STAPLE DltY GOODS,
Ready .Made Clothing, Huts, Shoes, &c.
Second street, a few doors from the Washington
Hotel.
Macon. Georgia. Oct. 18,1944. I—if
REDDING”& WHITEHEAD.
DEALERS IN
FANCY AND STAPLE DRY GOODS,
Groceries, Hard H are, Cutlery, Hats, Shoes, j
Crockery, &c. &c..
Corner of Cotton Avenue and Cherry streets.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19,1844. l-ts
JOSEPH If. SEYMOUR, "
DEALER IN
DRY GOODS, GROCERIES, HARD
WARE, &c.
Brick Store, Cherry Street, Ralston's Range, first
door below Russell & Kimberley's.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 1844. l-ts
GEORGE M. LOGAN,
DEALER IN
FANCY AND STAPLE DRY GOODS,
Hard-Ware, Crockery, Glass-Ware, &c. &c. j
Corner of Second and Cherry streets.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 1844. l-ts
d7 & w. gijnnT
DEALERS IN
S T V P I, E DRY GOODS, |
Groceries, Hardware, Crockery, &.c.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 1844. 1-tl i
J. 31. BOARD3IAN,
DEALER IN
law, medical, miscellaneous
and School Books; Blank Books and Stationery!
of all kiuds ; Printing Paper, &e. &c.
of the Large Bible, two doors above Shot
well's corner, west side of Mulberry Street.
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19,1844. 1 —ts
B. R. WARNER,
AUCTION AND COMMISSION NEIt-
CHANT.
Dealer in every description of Merchandise.
“The Public’s Servant,” and subject to receiving
consignments at all times, by the consignees pay
ing 5 per cent, commissions lor services rendered
Macon, Georgia. Oct. 19, 1844. 1-ts
L . j. CROSS,
Has for Sale
DRY GOODS ts GROCERIES ,
BOOTS, SHOES, CAPS, AND HATS,
At John D. IVinn's Old Store.
Macon, Oct. 25,1844. 2-ts
A Strange Bet. —Public notic is given
in the Boston papers of a bet which is to
he settled on the 4th of March in that city.
It appears that a whig and a democrat,
having bantered each other, several months
since, for a bet on the Presidential election,
finally agreed that if Mr. Clay was elect
ed the Democrat should saw a half cord
nf wood for the whig, in any public place
mat he should name; and vice versa, if Mr.
oik should be elected. The Whig hav
ing lost, :s to saw the half cord of wood
on the 4th of March in front of the market
bouse.
THE 'REPUBLIC'.
S. M. STRONG, Editor.
volume i.
MI SCE L L ANY.
TIIE GHIBETTE AND BRAND*: D AME.
i he carnival of 1717 was drawing to a
close : it was the last ball of the season,
and the sallc de V Opera was crowded to
its utmost limits. All distinctions of rank
were forgotten. Peets jostled pickpock
ets, and courtiers, countesses, and even
sober citizens, mingled with chevaliers
Industrie, grisettes, and*opera dancers.
Here, masked to the teeth, may he seen
j some grande dame in whispering confer
ence with a young mousquetairc, who,
quick at a hint, has been all night waiting
! that black domino with a rose and silver
ribbon tied at the wrist. There, a march-
I ioness, the heroine of many an adventure,
! is trying to make a conquest of the young
mercer hei neighbour, who is impatient
j to see whether the beauty of his incognita
-answers to the charms of her conversation.
r i lie slight figure in the Turkish dress,
who has made love to half the women
present, is well known to be the Regent,
Duke of Orleans: the group of bacchantes,
bayaderes, and heathen goddesses hover
ing about him, are the ladies of the court,
several of them his mistresses; and the
Venus who conceals her face, while
through that thin veil she undauntedly
displays her neek and shoulders, is no
less than the Duchess of Berry, a princess
of the blood-royal, and the regent’s fa
vourite daughter.
It may he readily supposed that many
piquant adventures, and not a few scan
dalous intrigues, wore the result of this
intermixture of ranks and under the pro
tection of the mask more than one fair
dame indulged in frolics, the discover}’
of which would have covered her with
confusion.
Under a gallery at the further end of
the ball-room, and screened from obser
vation by a row of pillars, two persons in
close conversation occupied a sofa. The
taller, who had thrown his mask aside,
was dressed as a student. lie was a
young man of from eighteen to twenty
years of age, and of remarkably prepos
sessing appearance. Ilis dark brown
hair fell in curls on his shoulders; his
complexion was of a clear brown; and
his large haze, eyes had that mild
serious look that has been said to charac
terise persons fore-doomed to a violent
death. At this time, however, their me
lancholy expression had disappeared, and
the}' sparkled with animation as he con
versed with the person at his side. This
figure was so carefully masked, that even
the mouth and chin were concealed, but
the slight graceful form, and the small
foot that occasionally peeped from under
the sable domino, left no doubt as to the
sex.
The conference seemed at an end, for
the lady made an attempt to rise.
‘Do not leave me,’said her companion:
'or, at least, ere you go, let me gaze for
one moment on those lovely features anti
the bright eyes that, even through that
hateful mask, have subdued my heart.’
‘I dare not stay,’ site replied. ‘We
are observed. Yonder Diana has been
watching you for the last half-hour. Per
haps she means to choose you for herEu
dymion.’
‘When goddesses condescend to visit
us poor mortals,’ answered the student,
‘they come in disguise—mine is already
here,’ and he caught her hand.
‘See !’ she said, ‘your deity approaches.
If she finds you with a rival, her vengeance
will be terrible.’
‘At least I shall not merit the punish
ment of Actocon, for it is not her charms
that I am contemplating,’ he returned, as
he pressed to his lips the small white hand
from which he had drawn an embroider
ed glove; ‘but fear her not, she is the
goddess of chastity, and flies from men.’
‘Rather say the huntress, in full pursuit
of you. I will not encounter her wrath.’
She disengaged her hand, and, mixing
with the crowd, was out of sight in a mo
ment. Ere he could follow her, the mask
in the dress of Diana stood before him.
The baskined goddess was a curious
specimen of the Grecian costume, as un
derstood in Paris at the time of the regen
cy. Her green satin hooped petticoat,
looped up on one side with more than
classic brevity, displayed a well-shaped
leg, though not of tiie most slender dimen
sions. Her waist was extremely long,
and below it hung an imitation of a pan
ther's skin, which finished with a huge
claw. She carried a gilt bow, which,
judging by its size, and length of the ar
rows suspended in a quiver at her back,
never could have been intended to bring
down anything larger than a butterfly.—
A crescent of false stones sparkled in her
hair, two or three locks of which hung
down on her neck; but their jetty hue w-as
disguiscil by a shade of powder, then first
coming into fashion.
l Je te connais /’ said she beginning with
the usual jargon.
‘And I know you, Susettc,’ returned
the student, impatiently, ‘although you
have taken the trouble to change your
dress. Did you think all that frippery
would disguise you from me?’
The goddess snatched off her mask,
and her brilliant black eyes sparkled fierce
ly under her marked eyebrows, as she re
plied, ‘You are right, Etienne, there should
be no disguise between us. Tell me,
therefore, who was the mask that has just
quitted you?’
‘You know as much on the subject as I,’
he answered carelessly; ‘She is a strang
er to me.’
PKO PATRIA F.T LI'i.IKPS.
."MACON, GEORGIA. WEDNESDAY, MARCH 5. 1815.
‘Did she leave you this for a souvenir T
was the reply ; ‘or as a token by which
you are to find her again ?’ saying which
she snatched a small glove from his hand.
Her colour changed as she looked at it.
It was of the scented leather once so
sought after, called peatt iPEspagne, and
embroidered with very small pearls.
‘ls it so ?’ she exclaimed. ‘Are grisettes
no longer good enough for you, that you
seek acquaintance among the fine court
ladies ?’
‘Be silent, you do not know what you
are talking about,’ he returned ; by a sud
den movement again possessing himself
of the glove, and thrusting it into his bo
som.
Her jealous fury increasing, she raised
her voice so high as to attract the atten
tion of several persons near. ‘Do you I
think lamto be foiled ?’ she cried. ‘Be !
she who she may, she shall not seduce my
lover with impunity.’
‘Ho! ho!’ said a figure grotesquely
dressed, stealing from behind one of'the
pillars, and jingling some bells fastened to
a stick—‘a lover’s quarrel! then Folly
must he at hand ;’ and he began skipping
round them. Irritated at the laughter of
the spectators, Etienne attempted to leave
the spot; hut linking her arm in his, Su
sette exclaimed—
‘Are you going to your assignation ? I
will accompany you, for I have some
thing to say to my lady Countess—or
whatever she calls herself.’
At these words, the delight of the mask
representing Folly was excessi\ e; he clap
ped his hands, jinged his hells, and a clown
catching the infection, the two capered
about till a crowd began to collect round
the party.
Etienne, half mad with vexation, broke
through the throng with the intention of
leaving the ball-room. Ashe arrived at
the door, his incognita gliding up to him,
said softly—
‘Gentle knight, you will not refuse to
return a lady her glove, since it was not
thrown down in defiance of you ?’
Before he could answer he heard the
hateful jingling of the bells, and preceded
by Folly, and followed bv a troop of
maskers, he saw Susette approaching.
Her eyes seemed toflash fire, and her nos
trils were dilated with passion as, striding
up to her rival, she crushed the mask on
her face, and tried to tear it off.
Etienne catching her arm prevented a
repetition of the blow ; hut his own pas
sion roused, he threw her front him with a
force that sent her staggering backwards.
‘Fiend!’ he exclaimed,‘from this hour
1 counsel you to avoid :ne ! —Dare to cross
my path again, and I swear by all that is
sacred you shall bitterly repent it!’ say
ing which, and taking the black domino
under his arm, he left the ball-room.
‘Bon DieuV said a female, who had
just forced her way through the crowd.
‘lt is Susette Lagarde and the student
Etienne Grandier, her lover.’
A few weeks after the ball, in the house
of a family of high rank in Paris, a lady
reclined in hep boudoir in one of those
antique chairs, the curved shapes and
rounded backs of which are so character
istic of the graceful fashions of that day.
A dress of pale blue satin set off the ex
quisite fairness of her skin. Bright au
burn hair combed back from the forehead,
fell in two or three large curls on her neck.
Her features were delicately shaped
rather than regular, her lips of that bright
vermilion hue that we often see in chil
dren ; and partly cased in a rose-coloured
slipper, with a very high heel, a foot as
small as that of a fui ry rested on the lap of
a young man w ho half kneeled, half sat a
cushion at her feet. It is not necessary to
describe his appearance, for it was the
student Etienne Grandier.
The lady smiled tenderly on her lover ;
as looking anxiously at her he said, ‘You
say this to torment me : if the danger were
tenfold, I would brave it, were but the
peril mine alone.’
‘But since it is not? she replied, ‘since
to receive you any longer in this house
would be fraught with danger to me as
well as to you, theonly course that remains
is—.’
‘To part,’ he answered. ‘Be it so, but
remember it is my life you ask—l will not
live without you.’
‘How many have sworn as much ?’ said
the lady, ‘and have found women credu
lous enough to believe them ?’
‘Butj’ou are not one of those,’ said
Crandier, bitterly; ‘you have lived among
courtiers, and judging all men by that
standard, believe me to be as heartless as
they.’
‘Ungrateful!’ she exclaimed; ‘had 1
thought so, should I have trusted my re
putation in your hands ? Had you not in
terrupted me, I would have'told you, that
though we cannot meet here we may do
so elsew'here —and this was about to do
for one who loads me with reproaches.’
‘Forgive me,’ he answered, pressing
his lips to her hand ; ‘the fear of losing
you made me unjust. Call me not un
grateful; your generous condescension is
written in characters of fire on my heart.
Would to Heaven it were given me to
prove how lightly I hold my life in com
parison with your safety and fair fame.’
Etienne Grandier was the only child of
a merchant of Toulouse, who, having
amassed a fortune, was anxious to raise
fiis son to a higher rank in life than his
own. There were no other means of do
ing than by educating him for the church,
| a course to which he was the more inchti-
ed from the docility of the boy’s temper,
and the superiority of his talents.
Etienne had been carefully educated ;
and so secure were his parents in the
strength of his principles, that they sent
him to finish his studies in a licentious
capital, without casting a thought on the
temptations to which he might he exposed
there.
The character of young Grandier
might he compared to a volcano under
snow, for no one who saw the mildness
and timidity of his demeanour would
have suspected the fiery passions that
slumbered beneath. For some time after
his arrival in Baris, the hours not devoted
to study were passed in the society of a
priest, an old friend of his family; butj
intense application proved so injurious to
his health, that even father Gerard advis
ed him to seek occasional amusement.
His advice was followed, and it was with
sincere pleasure that in a few months the
old man noticed the improvement in his
appearance. Etienne blushed on receiv
ing his congratulations, but did not think
it necessary to explain that a total change
had taken place in his habits, and that in
stead of study, his whole time was now
passed in the society of the grisettes of the
neighborhood.
The smiles of the handsome student
had already proved a fruitful source of
discord among this amiable sisterhood,
when Susette Lagarde, becoming the fa
vourite, succeeded in keeping every rival
at a d's'.tnce.'hsujucli by her strength of
arm and volubility of tongue, as by the
superiority of her beauty. Her empire
had continued undisturbed until the night
of the masked ball; but her conduct on
that occasion had deeply offended Etien
ne, and though she employed prayers,
tears, and even threats, to bring about a
reconciliation, he was resolute in refusing
it.
It must-he owned that his determina
tion found its strongest support in his pas
sion for her rival. Since that evening!
they had met repeatedly, and the refine
ment of her manners was so new to him,
and he was so dazzled by her charms, that
he seemed to tread anew
sette, who had for some time ceased to j
pursue him. was forgotten.
But he was not forgotten by her. 11 j
she could not have love, she was at least!
resolved on vengeance, and judging that
his acquaintance with the black domino
would not end with the ball, site deter-.
mined to watch all his movements. Eti- j
enne, however, was forced to take so j
many precautions in visiting his enamora-j
la, that she was completely baffled, until
the lady’s fears that her family should dis- i
cover the intrigue, induced her to visit her j
lover in his own apartments.
It was an old and gloomy quarter of j
Paris in which Grandter resided. He;
had selected it as being quiet and retired,'
and because adjoining his room was a pa
vilion with a garden, which, though sur
rounded on three sides by houses, served
him as a place of recreation after the
hours of study.
It was here that he proposed to receive
his mistress. With a lover’s care the pa
vilion was made ready; his own hand ar-1
ranged the garden, and when all was done
he sighed as he thought how unfit was j
such a temple for his divinity.
Their meetings did not escape the sharp ;
eyes of Susette. The sight of her faithless
lover leaving his own house one evening
with a female, put her on the alert; she
recognized the figure of her rival, and only
waited her next appearance to overwhelm
her with reproaches.
Fortune soon favored her projects.— :
The lady arriving alone, passed through ;
the house to the garden, and Susette, who !
knew that Etienne was from home, enter- )
ed the pavilion after her. The dismay ofj
the stranger at (he sight of a female of the
lower class, whose disordered appearance j
gave indication of the violent passions that j
agitated her, may he imagined. Scarce j
had their eyes met than she remembered
her as a girl who had worked in her father’s
family, and the astonishment expressed in
the grissette’s face showed that the recog
nition was mutual.
‘So, madame! it is you who play these
pranks !’ she exclaimed. ‘Shame on you,
court ladies! who call us had names and
despise us, while you envy and rob us of
our lovers. But the whole neighborhood
shall know what a grande dame is the mis
tress of a poor student. We shall see
what the grisseltes will say to it. Here,
Lisette, Martha, come and see the fine
madam who visits Etienne Grnndier!”
The lady, agonized with the tlanger to j
which her life as well as reputation would
be exposed in the hands of an incensed I
populace, endeavored to disarm her fury ;
by supplications.
‘My good Susette!’ she cried imploring
ly, ‘do not ruin me. I will give you mo- i
ney,—make you rich, —only let me go,
and I will never come near your lover
again.’
Her prayers were disregarded, and Su
sette, throwing open the window', contin
ued to call her companions. The alarm
was given, casements were thrown open,
and the neighbors from their windows en
deavored to ascertain the causes of the
cries. It was already dusk, and nothing
could be seen; but the screams continued,
and once the cry of ‘murder’ was heard.
Old and young now hastened to the spot.
As they entered the house they met Eti
enne coming f rom the garden.
■For Goil’s sake !’ said the foremost;
‘what is the meaning of those cries ?’
11. C. CROSBY, Proprietor.
NFJUBER 21.
‘Cries!’ he repeated. *1 have heard
none. I am this moment returned and
came in the hack way.’
; ‘There have been dreadful shrieks
heard from your house,’ was the answer.
‘You are wrong, neighbour,’ interrup
ted an old woman ; ‘they were not from
the house. I opened my window at the
I first alarm, and I am sure the screams
came from the pavilion. Let us there.’
‘The pavilion !’ said Etienne, starting.
I ‘There is no one there! —lt is looked, and j
I have not the key.’
‘Nevertheless,’said old woman perti
naciously, ‘I am positive it was from there j
theycarne; and it is my advice that we !
search it.’
Etienne in vain remonstrated. ‘My
friends,’ said he, as they pushed past him, I
‘let me enter first, there is a person;
there ’
‘Why, just now-you said it was empty !
and locked,’ said oue of the men.
‘Perhaps Monsieur CEtudiant has one of j
his masters there!’ observed another with
a laugh.
‘Or mistresses,’ put in a third. ‘Come,'
.Monsieur Etienne, allow that there is a j
lady in the case, and we will wait out-!
side.’
‘There is a lady,’ said the student,
evidently confused. ‘I must speak to
her before you enter.’ He sprang to the
door of the pavilion without perceiving
that the old woman, who had followed
him, was stealthily peeping in. A shriek
from her brought the rest of the people.
Etienne, his face as white as death, his
whole eouutenauuc the picture of horror,
was leaning over the body of Susette
Lagarde, which lay weltering in blood at
his feet. The murderer was immediate
ly seized. He made little defence, but
seemed overwhelmed by his situation.
Indeed, taken almost in the fact as he had
been, it was generally expected that he
would confess to save himself from the
torture, and though he did not directly dis
avow his guilt, his silence when interro
gated on the subject was looked upon as a
tacit confession. It was only on the day
of trial, and with the horror of his impend
ing fate before his eyes, that he seemed
desirous of making an effort to avert it ;i
hut lie confined himself to general asser-;
tions of his innocence and begged his !
judges to have mercy on his youth, and j
finding this appeal, unsuccessful, he ex-i
claimed, almost wildly, that he was not
guilty. He was condemned to be broken
on the wheel. As the time of execution
approached, he requested to see the priest
already mentioned. Father Gerard had
been deeply offended at the duplicity of
Etienne, whose disorderly courses he had i
not suspected until the trial made them
known ; but though as rigid in his own
principles as strict in exacting the perfor
mance of their duty from others, Chris-;
tian charity forbade him to refuse the;
prayer of a penitent. An interview took ,
place between them. Etienne Wjis to die j
on the morrow, anti as some hope had j
been entertained that a less painful death j
might he inflicted, it was a part of his!
friend’s mission to inform him that his ;
petition to that effect was rejected.
However severely Father Gerard I
might have been prepared to treat the!
criminal, the sight of his former pupil, 1
changed by suffering of mind and hotly,
turned his anger to pity, and though he I
reproached him it was with gentleness.
‘Behold,’ said he, ‘the fruits of vice, j
Who that knew you, Etienne, loved by all
for the goodness of your heart, and of
; whom numerous witnesses have deposed
! that you never had a quarrel, never spoke I
an angry word to any of your companions,!
: who would have believed that a few
months of a licentious life would have'
! transformed you into a murderer?’
‘And might not their testimony have
proved that I was incapable of commit*
j ting such a barbarous deed ?’ faltered
1 Etienne.
‘Unhappy boy!’ returned the other;
‘when at that fatal ball you uttered that
threat, murder was in your thoughts. But
enough of this; I come here as your spir
itual guide, pre.pared to speak comfort to
your soul, if by contession and repen
tance of your sins you would seek that
mercy from Heaven, w'hich the justice of
man dare not show you.’
Their conference was long, and the
troubled countenance of Father Gerard
showed that it had deeply moved him.
There was still a painful duty to perform.
question anticipated it.
‘Father,’ said he, ‘am 1 to die on the
wheel ?’
On a reply in the affirmative the unhap
py youth nid his face in his hands, but
their convulsive trembling showed the
agony within.
‘My son,’ said the priest, ‘remember
him who died on the cross ! Did he suf
fer less ?’
‘Ah, Father, he was without guilt!
What can give courage to one whose sins
have cost him his life, and brought shatne ]
and sorrow on his parents ?’
We should vainly seek in a modern :
1 drawing-room for the elegance and splen
dour presented by a salon at Paris in the
| time of the Regency. The lofty and
| spacious apartments were lighted by in
numerable tapers, reflected in mirrors
1 draperied with the richest produce of the
Indian loom. Thick Persian carpets
! half covered the polished floor. Before
every door hung damask curtains, inter
j ceptmg the air that might have blown too
i roughly on the delicate forms within. On
the marble chimney-piece, between lus-
tres with long glittering pendant*
large baskets of golden flowers anch.
middle, clock oi Serrc*
which is painted medal Upas, the ho:
hand in hand danced JJttir eterajjr i'ou§.
or swains, with c&sfikc ed wit
ribbons, piped their numerous strains z
the feat of garland Th
japanned cabinets were set out with nuir
hers of tiny cups nf tfist delicate as# ;
transparent china that looks as if a breath
of air would blow it away!. Manpanas?
pagodas, all the variety of \QTOnssp?% &
which Chinese imagination revels, fffiau
the intervening spaces. The pietiJf%
completed by the variety of colours and
costumes. The brilliant scarlet distin
guishing the officers of the Swiss guards
rivalled the elegant blue and gold of the
cavalry uniform, or was relieved by the
black velvet and silver facings of the
mousyuetaires. The embroidered coats of
the peers, their diamond stars and buttons
and i lie blue ribbon displayed across the
rich white satin waistcoat, were equally
contrasted with the more sober dress of
the little Ebbe, with his smooth cheek, his
short cloak, point lace cravat, ami black
silk culotte. These were the perfumed
and powdered butterflies that fluttered
round the fair circle, where waving plumes
and necklaces, 'sparking with precious
stones, were no more graceful than their
wearers, nor brighter than theireyes.
Such was the scene presented at the ho
tel of the Marquis de Ferriers, where a nu
merous and brilliant party was assembled
to witness the signing of the marriage con
tract between the daughter of the noble
host and his nephew the Viscomte de
Beauvais. The Countess de St. Gilles,
although a widow, had not yet seen her
twenty-fifth year. She was married when
almost a child to her late husband, and
since his death had, by a family arrange-
ment, been contracted to her cousin. Tbe
age, fortune, and personal qualities of the
parlies were so well assorted, that their
union was the subject of general approba
tion. The Countess, one of the beauties of
the day, had always conducted herself
with a propriety that did honor to the ex
cellent education she had received. Jn
! deed the Marquis himself was generally
respected for a purity of principles and
conduct rarely met with at that time, The
marriage bad been for some time deferred
in consequence or the delicate state of the
Countess’ health, hut at the earnest solici
tation of her father, it was now to take
place without further delay.
The bride-elect had not yet made her
appearance, anti the guests amused them
selves in conversation respecting the in
teresting event they were assembled to
witness.
‘My dear Marchioness, how delighted I
am to see you!’exclaimed a lady, riressed
in the very pink of the fashion, ‘and how
charmingly you look. But the air of Paris
is a great beautifier. Only think of me,
ma chere, buried for twelve long months in
a horrid province ! It was impossible to
endure it any longer, so I have left Mon
sieur le Comte to govern his barbares by him
self. But I have so much news to hear.
Only think of our dear Countess marrying
her cousin at last! They will make a
charming couple. The Viscomte is so
handsome, and she—but here she comes;
I must go and congratulate her. HoW
could they say,’ she continued, on return
ing to her seat, ‘she was in bad health?—
To me, she seems more lovely than ever.'
‘Your long banishment makes you see
everything couleur de rose, my dear Coun
‘tess,’returned her friend: ‘I think her sad
ly changed. She is much thinner, and her
eyes, the expression of which was former
ly so enchantingly soft, have now quite a
haggard look.’
‘Do you not. think that her rouge is a
soupcon, too deep?’ whispered the other, be
ginning to criticise in her turn.
‘I think that effect is produced by the
almost unearthly whiteness of her skin,’
was the reply. ‘lt is true, powder, paint,
j and patches, make it difficult, now-a-days.
| to see what a complexion really is; hut, un
der all those auxiliaries, I trace the rava
ges of ill health.’
At this point the conversation Was inter
rupted by the preparations for signing the
contract; the parchment was placed be-
I fore The Countess for her signature, but
her hand shook so violently that she could
scarcely trace a letter, and it was ohly by
a strong effort that she mastered her agita
tion sufficiently to write her name. Im
mediately after she sunk back in her chair,
1 and became insensible. She was carried
1 into her apartments, and upon medical aid
i being summoned, was pronounced to be
dangerously ill.
ln a few days it was known that the
| young and beautiful Countess of St. Gilles,
so lately on the point of becoming El bride,
1 was dying. From the commencement of
i her illness sire had continued to sink rap
iidlv, ar.d her physicians were only sur
prised (hat she still lived. The house be
came a scene of mourning, crowded with
friends anxious to show their sympathy,
and to offer consolation to the Marquis and
i his nephew. The Countess was aware
I that her situation was hopeless; all her
thoughts were given to religion, and her
icon lessor was constantly with her. On
! the day that the last sacraments were to
be administered, the numerous members
of her family were, at her express desire
summoned to her bed-side.
‘My friends,’ said the dying woman, ‘1
cannot leave the World iti peace, neither
will my confessor give me absolution, till
I have confessed a crime which has long
lain heavily on my conscience. All here
must remember the student Etienne Gran
dier, who, two years ago, was condemn
ed to death for the murder of his mistress.
At the place of execution he asserted his
innocence, and his assertion was true. —
I was the murderer of Susette Legarde!”
At this strange revelation a murmur of
astonishment was heard, and all present
looked at each other, as if to ask whether
the words she had uttered were not those
of delirium; but the priest made a sign to