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CHAP. XL,

To chase each partial purpose from his breast,
And thro' the mist of passion and of sense,
And thro' the tossing tide of chance and pain,
To hold its course unfaltering; while the voice
Of Truth and Virtue, up the steep ascent
Of Nature, calls him to his great reward,
Th' applauding smile of Heav'n.

Oh! che felice pianti,

Che amibile martis,

Pur che si possa dir,

Quil cor e mio.

De due bell almè amante,

Un alme, allor si fa,

Un alme che non ha,
Che un sol desio.

AKENSIDE.

METASTASIO.

AT an early hour the following morning Beatrice entered her lady's room, to preside as usual at her toilet, but found her already risen and dressed, although she had heard her pacing the adjoining apart

ment, which lay over her own, till a very late hour. Beatrice observed also that she was just dressed as if she had not divested herself of a single article since she had last seen her; and as she had been forbid attending her to bed, (a thing most unusual,) she was now full of anxious curiosity with respect to the strange incidents of the preceding evening, which had afforded such ample matter of wonder and surmise to every domestic member of the chateau, and to herself in particular; she had just begun with,

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Well, good my lady, there is no end "to wonderments and miracles in this "world, as monsieur Geoffry said last night, with respect to the appearance of

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monseigneur the duke within the walls "of the chateau de St. Dorval-"

When Imogen, taking the veil she held in her hand, slung it over her own head, so as to conceal the upper part of her face, and left the room; but not before Beatrice had observed that her cheek was colour

less, her eye red and swollen, and her looks haggard and melancholy. Beatrice looked after her lady with tearful eyes, then sat down on the chair from which Imogen had risen, and wept the effects, though ignorant of the cause.

Imogen, after a few turns on the terrace, entered the saloon. She found the chevalier already there, walking up and down the room, and conversing with old Geoffry, who was laying out the breakfast table. When Imogen appeared, he sprang forward to receive her; and, gazing on the face she endeavoured to veil from his penetration, he stifled a half-breathed sigh, took her hand in silence, and pressed it to his lips.

At that moment the duke entered the room: he would have retired unperceived, but the chevalier's quick eye catching a glimpse of him in a large mirror which hung opposite the door, he exclaimed,

"Come back, my lord; the countess has "another hand for you."

The duke returned, and coldly bowed on the hand presented to him by the chevalier.

In the appearance of de Beauvilliers a visible change had taken place since the preceding night: the artificial flow of spirits which had then animated his manners now no longer enlivened them; his air was abstracted, his eyes sunken, his complexion livid, and the expression of his countenance wild and despairing.

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"It is a pity," said the chevalier, as they seated themselves at the breakfasttable, it is a pity that the motive of an "action should not always influence its "effects. I told you last night, my lord, "when you were quaffing off such plente(6 ous draughts to the health and happiness "of your friends, that you would this "morning pay the same tribute to the god "of ebriety for the violation of his laws, "as the selfish intemperate who commits "his excesses uninfluenced by any such

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"am to judge from your looks this morning, my assertion was prophetic."

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The duke, rousing from the sullen torpor which had hitherto involved him, with a forced laugh and an air of gaiety replied:

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Why, yes, I believe I was rather in an Anacreontic mood last night; and, "to confess the truth, I often thought the

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philosophy of the Teen bard the only "true philosophy upon earth: while the

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sage pores by the midnight lamp over "the musty volumes of distant ages, to seek the alchemic secret by which hap

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piness is to be extracted from the dross "of life, give me a shorter and sweeter "" path to information; let me thus raise "the sparkling goblet to my eager lip, "and quaff off immortality!"

Thus saying, the duke poured out a glass of rich cordial which stood on the table, and, drinking it off, said to Imogen, "You see, madam, your wine is like the nepenthe of Helen, for it gives the cares

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