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 appear to me as contrary to the laws of illusion as painted statues.”

“I participate in your opinion,” replied Ferdinand; “for the remembrance of a terrible impression produced on my mind when young, by a portrait of that sort, will never be effaced.”

“O! pray relate it to us,” said the young lady with flaxen hair, who had not as yet quitted the low chair; “you are obliged according to promise to take my place.” She instantly arose, and jokingly forced Ferdinand to change seats with her.

“This history,” said he, “will resemble a little too much the one you have just related; permit me therefore ”

“That does not signify,” resumed the mistress of the house, “one is never weary with recitals of this kind; and the greater repugnance I feel in looking at these horrible portraits, the greater is the pleasure I take in listening to histories of their eyes or feet being seen to move.”

“But seriously,” replied Ferdinand, who would fain have retracted his promise, “my history is too horrible for so fine an evening. I confess to you that I cannot think of it without shuddering, although several years have elapsed since it happened.”

“So much the better, so much the better!” cried nearly all present; “how you excite our