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142 little trickling stream fell from the urn by her side with a low and musical murmur. Even the small space of this fountain was a divided empire; the farther side was clear and glittering with the golden daylight, but the nearer one lay dark in shadow, for a large sombre branch hung directly over it. The very gloom made it the better mirror; and Marie started as she saw her face reflected side by side with that of the statue. For a moment she smiled at the contrast of her own head, with its ribands and its waving feathers, beside the simply-wreathed hair of the marble figure. But even as she looked, another thought arose in her mind. The nymph was so like one that had been a favourite in Guido's studio—a world of early fancies, of tender recollections, were called up by the resemblance. She thought of the deep and earnest love, which had seemed to her like folly amid more worldly scenes; she thought of their wanderings by twilight, with the rosy sunset dying away amid the thick-leaved pines:—she turned, and saw Guido by her side. Admitted by the influence of Bournonville into the royal gardens, he had wandered round, and by chance followed the very path which Marie had taken.

"My beloved Marie!" exclaimed her unsuspecting lover, "this is happiness! Ah! if you