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228 chirp of the cicala in the fragrant grass—and the gleam of the fire-flies, glittering by twilight amid the boughs of the myrtle. "Ah!" exclaimed she, "we will soon return thither, and be happy again!"

Francesca forgot that she must take back with her an altered heart. Her hand fell by chance on her lute, which lay near—it gave forth a sweet but hollow sound, as if the wind had swept over it, and, almost unconsciously, her fingers ran over the notes of an old familiar air; she started, for it seemed almost like a reproach, it had been such a favourite of Evelyn's. The recollection at once dissipated her pleasant reverie: "Alas!" she exclaimed, "is it he or I that is changed?"

Without waiting to decide, she suddenly remembered that Madame de Mercœur would marvel at her long absence, and hastened to join her. She was risen, and seated before her glass, while her woman was arranging her long fair hair. The Chevalier de Joinville leant opposite; Evelyn, with a true English man's habit, was fastening and unfastening a little enamelled box, which he had taken up under plea of admiring her portrait on the lid; and, seated on the arm of a fauteuil, instead of the chair itself, was the Queen of Sweden, talking with great rapidity.