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 dreadful mystery, she hoped every thing: but when she saw him at Fountevraux, though it was only for a few minutes, she thought she had inspired him with affection. When she heard Adelaide exclaim, "The Count de Nevers is dying," she flew into the saloon, and immediately knew the Count's features: her joy was great to find he was not the Seur de Joinville, but her brother. The temple of death and immortality was not far from the hotel de Dammartin, and the garden of Marccl was only a few yards from it; therefore, with so many local advantages, a very little art, faithful friends, and a great deal of gold, the neice of Nicolas Flamel, aided by some knowledge of natural philosophy, was, without any supernatural aid, Marcel's Donna Fittoria, and a magician to the King of Navarre.

This cavern was the retreat of Nicholas Flamel, when obliged to escape from the persccutions raised against him, for his wonderful knowledge and talents, by a set of illiterate people, who imputed to magic every thing beyond the conception of their narrow understandings. It was to this cavern he retired with his immense treasures, which had long been the scenc of his chemical experiments, and where his neice was initiated into all the mysteries of his art. At his death he bequeathed all his wealth to his beloved ncice.

The happy Count de Nevers, and the Seur de Joinville, led their beautiful brides to the altar. When the ceremony was over, they returned to the hotel de Dammartin, where an elegant banquet was prepared. If the marriage banquet was not animated by glittering magnificence and noisy mirth, it afforded the more pleasing spectacle of virtuous love, approving and approved, looking with complacency around, and reading in the sweet maternal smile, the joy their happiness diffused.