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 intimacy, but to no clear result! Is there a secret bar? Does she not love him enough? Does he not love her?

Often indeed the woman herself, as well as her friends. cannot understand why man's affection stays where it does, no disclosure of warmer feeling upon her admirer's lips. Unfortunately, sometimes it crosses hers; to meet his deepest regret and embarassment. Now and then, tragic, or tragic-comic, results of the silence of the Uranian, are heard of; more dramatic if the recalcitrant male is suspected to be cynically too indifferent. In such cases feminine revenge can go crudely far. The mystery of the death of Monaldeschi, the secretary of Queen Christina of Sweden, whom she ordered be beheaded with scandalous precipitation one night, during her famous visit to Prance, lately has been partly attributed to this cause. Similar stories are told of the abrupt and cruel strokes of pseudo state-justice by Catherine II of Russia, not to mention other romantic sovereigns of more ardour than patience. A few seasons ago, in Lisbon, took place such an affair, that made much scandal at the time. Among the brilliant literary men of the city, was one L—, renowned for his beauty and charming manners, but outspoken in his aversion to any sexual relations with women, and equally frank in similisexual intimacies. One of the most beautiful of the Lisbon cocotterie was a young woman whose services as model to a well-known French painter have made her face and figure the common property of Europe. She made repeated advances to L— with no success. As her interest warmed, came his plainer avoidance of her. At last occurred her ardent offer; and his cold refusal. One summer evening, toward midnight, L— was returning from his club. A close carriage overtook him. Two strong negroes stepped down from the box, and one of them asked L— if he would speak to a lady in the carriage. The unwary L— advanced. He was gagged, tied, thrown into the vehicle and driven