gratiated himself with the old man, that he allowed him occasionally to take a short and secret stroll in the adjacent country. At such times, Jaroslaw would ascend a lofty hill, the summit of which commanded a view of his beloved valley; and often was he tempted to obey the voice of fate, which seemed to summon him thither, but he was restrained by the thought that he had promised the kind and honest gardener to return, and that the good old man might perhaps be severely punished for his flight. Influenced by these considerations, he always went back, and consoled himself by playing on his lute plaintive airs, which gained him every heart. slender stalk, like a little bird bound by a golden thread. O how préeminently beautiful art thou, sweet flower!" said Jaroslaw," and more magnificent than king Solomon, who, in all his splendour, was not so richly attired as thou. The bees hum around thee, and flutter about thy soft cheeks in order to sip thy honey; the children of men also have pleasure in beholding thee. But soon wilt thou lose all these charming hues; and the sun, which, like a tender mother, has hitherto cherished and fostered thee, will launch its burning darts to pierce and destroy thee. Better die on her lovely bosom a death which I shall envy thee." When the nosegay was ready, the old gardener came to carry it to the princess, and was delighted with its freshness and beauty; but when the maiden received it, she could not remove her eyes from the peerless flow One day, when he was singing his favourite ditty, the beautiful princess, the duke's only child, happened to be just then walking in the garden. She was so deeply affected by the tender melancholy of the song, ander in the middle, which far eclipsed so strongly interested in behalf of the youthful singer, that she determined to solicit her father's permission to have him to sing for her in her own apartments. Jaroslaw, for his part, was always highly delighted when the lovely princess visited the gar-her, that this could be no other than den; and, on the other hand, he was he who had gathered the nosegay; quite unhappy whenever she missed and she began to make a warm recoming down from the palace. turn for the silent passion of the poor { all the rest. Whenever the princess looked at this wondrous flower, it seemed to declare to her, that she was loved above all things by an amiable youth; but a voice in the inmost recesses of her heart told Early one morning, the young gar-gardener. dener rose from his bed and went to his work. While he was engaged in preparing a nosegay for the princess, he observed a most delicate flower, which, tinged by the first rays of the sun, surpassed all the others in beauty: so exquisite was its fragrance, that it would have refreshed even a patient at the point of death. A gentle breeze played about it, and the lovely flower waved to and fro on its 9 The youth had once laboured hard the whole day, and went home in great uneasiness, for he had seen nothing of the princess; and to judge of the distress manifested by her maids, he was even apprehensive that she was dangerously illere On entering the gardener's house, he found its inmates in great affliction; and on inquiring the cause of their grief, the gardener's wife broke out T this snare of Satan!he signed the contract with his own blood. The duchess afterwards bore her husband three daughters, only the eldest and most lovely of whom is now living. As nothing was heard of the stranger during all this time, the duke thought no more of the dreadful contract; but he has just been reminded of it in the most serious manner. In a week the fair princess will attain her seventeenth year, and last night the stranger presented himself before the duke, to give him notice that he should appear on her birthday to receive his property. He was in the attire of an Eastern knight, but only conceive the horror of the duke, when, in spite of the length of the stranger's robe, he distinctly es pied a cloven hoof!" On finishing this narrative, the woman renewed her lamentations, crying over and over again, "Alas! the poor princess! in a week she will be the prey of the wicked one!" into this lamentation: "O the poor || rable infatuation that blinded him to duke! how much he is to be pitied!" “But tell me," said Jaroslaw, what has happened to our lord and master?" The woman replied, "Only think what must be his distress: he is in danger of losing his only child, his beloved daughter; and what is worse than all, it is to Satan himself that he is bound to deliver her." Jarosław, in the utmost alarm, entreated the gardener's wife to proceed with her explanation. "You must know," said she, "that many years ago, Duke Ottiko and his conBort had no prospect of having children! Prayers and pilgrimages prov"ed as unavailing as the means recommended by physicians from far and near; and Ottiko and his duchess had almost relinquished all hopes of issue, when a cunning man, who came, as he gave out, from the distant kingdom of Persia, arrived at the ducal court. This stranger won the confidence of the prince, and when the latter once complained bitterly of his disappointment in not having an heir to his throne, the other promised to remedy this evil; adding, however, that he should require a very high price for the exercise of his art. The duke solemnly affirmed, that he should think no price too highs for the fulfilment of this his most ardent wish, for which he would even cheerfully sacrifice half his dominions. But the cunning man answered, “It is neither gold nor land that I demand of thee, but thou must promise that thy first child shall be my property, which, on attaining its seventeenth year, I will come and claimauThough the duke thought this a very severe condition, le nevertheless complied with the demand of the stranger; and O the deplo Jaroslaw felt much keener sorrow than he durst express, lest he should betray the vehement passion which glowed in his heart. He thought, however, of his three palaces in the Sharka valley, and confidently hoped to deliver the princess from such imminent danger; nay, he was impati ent for the day when he should contend with Satan for so fair a prize. Meanwhile public supplications were offered up in the churches, and all the inhabitants of the duchy prayed from morn till night for the deliverance of the lovely and virtuous princess from the clutches of the devil; for she was universally respected on account of the excellent qualities of her heart. Thus the birthday of the princess arrived amid prayers and lamentations; and Jaroslaw, whose ||ing at the same time to bring him a impatience would not allow him to close his eyes the whole preceding night, solicited permission of the gardener to go and see the procession which was to escort the princess to the spot where the odious stranger intended to wait for her, promis faithful report of all that passed. Curiosity at length overcame the old man's scruples; he gave Jaroslaw leave to go, earnestly exhorting him to take care of himself and to keep out of danger. (To be concluded in our next.) THE RECONCILIATION. A NUMBER of persons had assembled on a fine clear winter's day at the Canal de l'Ourq, where a few venturous skaters were amusing themselves, though the state of the ice rendered it hardly safe to do so. By degrees they all desisted except one, who, though warned of his danger by the spectators, still continued to skate. Suddenly the ice cracked in different places, and the unfortunate skater must have perished, but for a young man, who, hastily throwing off his coat, plunged in to rescue him. The skater sustained himself on a piece of ice, and the young man had just reached him, when, to the astonishment and horror of the spectators, he made a movement as if turning back. At the same instant the drowning man exclaimed, "Ah! M. d'Arcy!" and loosing his hold of the ice, sank into the water. The young man hastily turned round, plunged in, and with much difficulty brought him to land. The spectators used every means for his recovery; one among them in particular, a venerable clergyman, exerted himself with more success than the others: his cares were ef fectual; life by slow degrees revisited the poor man, His deliverer stood by, watching the attentions bestowed upon him, but evidently without any interest in his recovery. When he saw him apparently out of danger, he said to the clergyman," You have done so much for this man, that I am sure you will not refuse to have him taken to the nearest house, and to remain with him till he has perfectly recovered his senses. Be so good as to take these five francs to provide him with a cordial, and to pay for a coach to convey him home." { The good abbé refused the mo ney, but promised to take proper care of the poor man. He did all that was necessary, and in less than two hours Le Noir, for so he was named, was perfectly recovered, and in the arms of his wife and children. "You owe me nothing," said the abbé, in reply to his lively expressions of gratitude; " but if you will persist in thinking that you do, you may amply repay me by informing me of the nature of your connection with that singular man to whom you owe your life. He appeared to me to have some pique against you." if "Ah! yes, sir," replied Le Noir with a sigh; " and not without great cause, for I have used him shamefully. I am in the employ of the commissary of police: he sent me one day after a young man who had been appret hended for a riot. On reaching the watch-house, I found this young man with his clothes torn and covered with blood. I recognised hini di rectly for a merchant's clerk in our neighbourhood; and I said to him, Aha, M. d'Arcy, what have you been about here?' He answered me rudely; and although I protest to you, sir, that I had at first no other intention than that of taking him quietly with me to the commissary, yet I was at last so provoked by his violence, that I handcuffed him, and ordered four gens-d'armes to accompany us. "When we went into the street, two ladies attempted to speak to me in his favour; but I refused to hear them, saying, I was not a magistrate. And to revenge myself for some taunting expression that D'Arcy had used to me, I quitted the direct road, in order to oblige him to go through the street where he lived. He had flapped his hat over his eyes, but was nevertheless recognised; and he could hear the neighbours say to one another, that he must have committed some crime to be thus ignominiously treated. It is you,' said he to me, that have made me suffer this cruel humiliation: rest assured that I will be revenged on you.'Insolent fellow!' replied I, you should have thought just now when you insulted me, that others can feel as well as yourself.' to blame: he had exerted himself to defend the wife and daughter of M. d'Osmond, a notary in the neighbourhood, from some ruffians who had grossly insulted them; and it was his excessive eagerness in the quarrel that caused him to be apprehended, while those who were really guilty contrived to escape. "When he was cleared from the charge brought against him, his master complained of my conduct. The commissary replied, after hearing my defence, that D'Arcy had to thank himself for the manner in which I had treated him; that men charged with the maintenance of the public peace were forced to act according to appearances, which were all against D'Arcy; but, in fine, what he had suffered would teach him to govern his temper, and to respect the legal authority in future. "The merchant said no more, but D'Arcy has never seen me since without shewing by his looks the resentment he felt against me. As for myself, I was afterwards heartily sorry for my conduct, and often wished to be reconciled to him; and now I shall not lose a moment in going to testify my gratitude, and to beg his forgiveness." The abbé encouraged Le Noir in his laudable purpose, but told him to defer the execution of it till next day, his design being to prepare D'Arcy to receive him kindly. He accordingly took the direction of M. la Roche, and early the following morning went to his house, to beg of "We were at that instant passing before the door of his employer, M. la Roche, and I had the barbarity to snatch off his hat, exclaiming, 'You shall not escape the shame you deserve.' He raised his eyes, saw the merchant's family at the win-him to use his influence with D'Arcy dows, and sank down in a swoon. The crowd exclaimed against my cruelty; and had we not been close to the house of the commissary, I could hardly have escaped their fury. "It turned out that D'Arcy was not in behalf of Le Noir." You will find him in the best disposition," replied the worthy merchant: "Le Noir will be kindly received, for D'Arcy's resentment has entirely subsided. I "He appeared before us yesterday || acknowledge, M. d'Arcy, that I acted with an air so full of trouble, that shamefully towards you; but I assure we all assailed him at once to know you it was not through malice, and the cause: it was some time before I should have come ten minutes afhe would inform us; at last he said, ter to beg your pardon if shame had 'I am a monster: revenge has made not" D'Arcy interrupted him by me hesitate to save the life of a hu- a cordial embrace, saying at the same man being. I was cruel enough to time, "I was not less in the wrong leave Le Noir to drown when I could than you were, my dear Le Noir, easily have saved him. Happily,' and I ought equally to beg your parcontinued he eagerly, seeing us look don for my conduct on that day. at him with horror, a power supe- Since then I alone have been to rior to my will impelled me to save blame: you repented of your anger, him; but no sooner was he out of while I suffered the spirit of revenge danger than hatred resumed its em- to lead me even to the point of leavpire over my heart, and made me ing you to perish. Thus then it is shun a reconciliation which I had in I who ought to solicit your forgivefact rendered myself unworthy of. ness: grant it to me, and as a proof But his image, calling upon me in that you do, accept my watch. I his extremity, pursues me; it has ex- shall not have another, and the want tinguished my enmity, but it leaves of one will I hope be a memento of me a prey to the torments of re- my fault, that will prevent my again giving way to that irritable disposi tion, which has so nearly drawn me into the commission of a heinous crime." morse.' "He then related to us his adventure, intermingling reflections upon his own inhumanity. As we all love him, we exerted ourselves to calm him, and it will in all probability turn out a fortunate adventure for him; for our neighbour D'Osmond is so well pleased with his con'duct, that he has avowed to me his intention of giving him the hand of his daughter." At this moment the young man entered, and the merchant acquainted him with the object of the abbe's visit. "Ah! sir," said he to the venerable ecclesiastic, "I have to reproach myself for not having prevented your coming: I will go this instant to Le Noir." As he opened the door, the wife of Le Noir and her three children threw themselves on their knees at the threshold; while Le Noir himself exclaimed with great emotion, but without kneeling, "I 11013 7973 ورم "Your watch," said Le Noir, taking it," is too handsome for my situation in life: I will nevertheless wear it, because I am sure that I never can look at it without recollecting, that I ought to perform the duties of my office with moderation." In a short time D'Arcy espoused Mademoiselle d'Osmond, and was taken into partnership by M. Ia Roche. He has made great progress in curbing the irascibility of temper, which was his only fault; and he rightly judged, that the loss of his watch might be a useful memento. A short time ago he had been somewhere with the abbé, who has become his intimate friend: a dispute ensued between D'Arcy and a hackney-coachman, and although he was in the wrong, his passion so |