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��THE GRANITE MONTHLY.

��chamber, where she arranged her pa- pers, and then called her servants, and told them she was going to Florence upon business for the Count. No one dared to question her, but she noticed on all faces an expression of constraint and terror. "The news has spread," she thought, "and Marcel will hear it." She hastened her preparations, said good by to all, and wrote two letters, which she placed in her bosom. Then she passed for the last time through the palace of her ancestors, of whom she was the last representative, and got into her carriage, which she had ordered.

A long kiss in the embrasure of the doorway, and a convulsive pressure of the hand, were her last adieux to this lover whom she was leaving forever, and who suspected nothing.

This time Capellani saw the carriage disappear at the bend in the road, and heard the last faint sound of the wheels as they died out in the distance. He went back into the palace, and walked through the silent halls. This was the first time they had been separated, and a terrible melancholy settled down upon him. In order to overcome this feeling he went out into the street. He met few persons whom he knew, and these seemed to avoid him. His sad- ness increased every minute, until at last, in spite of the early hour, he went to see the Marquise.

Ordinarily, Lucrecia's old friend ac- corded an affectionate welcome to Marcel, but to-day she received him with embarrassment, and hardly dared to pronounce Lucrecia's name. He told her of Lucrecia's departure, and the Marquise turned pale, and cried : " What ! is she gone ? My God ! what does she mean to do?"

The old lady's fright, her cry of ter- ror, were a revelation to Marcel. " What have they hidden from me?" he cried.

"What! you do not know? The Count Palandra is pardoned ; he is on his way home."

Marcel sprang up, and rushed from the house, and an hour later his post

��horses were flying along the road to Florence in pursuit of Lucrecia.

He held his head in his hands for his brain seemed ready to burst.

" What is she going to do ? Fool ! I have seen nothing ; I, who can read men so well. What had she to fear?" And the poor fellow lost himself in wild conjectures. He thought of all the means of safety which his former power still rendered easy for him, but the blood boiled in his veins, and the minutes seemed hours, and he cried incessant- ly, "hurry ! hurry !" At Prato, while the horses were being changed, he learned strange news. Lucrecia had asked the inn-keeper to send two let- ters by a swift messenger to Pistoja ; then, instead of continuing on to Flor- ence, she had gone off in another di- rection and no one knew whither.

A cry of anger escaped him. He did not know what to do, and he cursed God and man. For the first time in his life Napoleon's ex-captain felt that his courage was useless. He saw he must return to get the let- ter, and with a groan of despair he gave the order to do so, and his horses went tearing back over the same road.

He found a letter awaiting him, tore it open, and was obliged to lean against the wall for support, because, before reading a line, he knew a terrible blow was about to fall upon him.

" My friend, my darling, have cour- age. I depend upon you. Marcel, your friend is dead.

" The Count Palandra will return, I told him when he went to prison, where I sent him, you can depend upon me ; and I have betrayed him. For whom? For one of his jailers, perhaps ; but from the day on which I opened my arms to you, Marcel, I was resolved. I have drained the cup of love ; I am intoxicated with such delight as angels might envy ; but happiness here below is a debt which one contracts. The time for payment has come. I pay.

" Do not regret me, if you love me, for if it were necessary to choose be- tween a long life of honor and a day

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