"depth of infidelity into all the supersti❝tions of the most boundless credulity."

The marquis bowed low to Imogen; who, unable to reply, and glad to be relieved, consented to join mademoiselle de Guise in a favourite duo of Busy D'Amboines, who accompanied it himself on the organ. When she had finished, she found the duke and the chevalier still at her side: "The countess de St. Dorval is doubtless "much improved since you last heard her "sing?" said the chevalier, addressing the duke; "for, though you are a silent, I per"ceive you are not an insensible auditor." "Insensible!" repeated the duke, waving

his head.

"I knew nothing of the science," said Imogen hastily, "when I had the honour "to be known to the duke; and he is " doubtlessly too exquisite a musician to "receive any gratification from the per"formance of one who has yet scarcely

escaped from the trammels of tuition."

"Pardon me, madam," said the duke,

genius like yours, however obscured by "modesty in your own estimation, cannot "be so unconnected with judgment as to "render its possessor insensible to those "merits in herself, to which in others she "is so much alive. And oh! why talk of "the trammels of tuition ?-you, at least,

are no imitative musician, but the foun"dress of a new style of music, in which "nature and feeling only could have in"structed you. Your's is indeed the mu

sic of the heart-it is the language of "sentiment, of passion, and true to all "its modifications, it breathes all those "finer emotions of the soul to which words "can

can give no being. Perhaps to be a "truly-fine musician, it is requisite to have "loved; and to raise the art to its acme "of perfection, the presence of the object "beloved should animate the exertions of

its magic powers; then it respires all "the tenderness of the enamoured soul, " and awakens éven in the coldest bosom "some faint glow of corresponding -emo"tion."

The duke as he concluded raised his eyes from Imogen, and fixed them expressively on the chevalier de Sorville; while Imogen perceived, in this tribute to her musical talents, an oblique and delicate reference to her situation with respect to .her guardian.

"But this charming science," said the chevalier," is not the only spoils the coun"tess de St. Dorval has carried off from "the Tuscan muses; in painting, her exe"cution, and in statuary her taste, are by no means inferior to her musical powers.' "My dear friend," exclaimed Imogen, "let not your partiality for the artist bias

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your judgment with respect to her "works; do not raise that illusive expec"tation in another where a similar parti"ality cannot exist to second its effects." "All may not possess the chevalier's

judgment to appreciate the works," said the duke, with a cold bow and a colder smile; "but few, I believe, will be defi"cient in partiality for the artist, though

"not at all in an equal degree. The sun,

though invariable in its nature, produces "a different influence according to the bo"dies on which it acts: some dissolve by "its warmth, and others condense by its "ardor; while all which revolve round it "must receive their lumination from its "beams."

The duke bowed to Imogen; and shortly after, pleading an engagement at the Louvre, took his leave. At the same moment the chevalier was called on by the marchioness de Belleisle to make one at a party at lansquenet; and the marquis de Sancy and the lord high constable took their station at either side of their fair hostess; but for the first time she found it impossible to converse with the former, and did not even affect attention to the florid compliments of the latter.

When the heart is all awake, the mind frequently slumbers, and the soul, wrapt in its own cogitations, rejects the acces

sary beam of imagination, and loves to repose from the airy flights of fancy.

Imogen, spiritless, silent, and abstracted, unable to repress her feelings, yet scarcely sensible that she indulged them, believed herself overcome with fatigue; and, deputing madame de Rosemont to do the honours of her house, seized on a moment when she was unobserved to steal away from the company, and retired to her own apartment. There, flinging herself on a couch, (while the dark red flame of a wood. fire spread round a gloomy light, and formed a striking contrast to the brilliant scene she had left,) overpowered, dissolved, almost ignorant of the nature of those conflicting feelings by which her bosom was agitated, she burst into a passion of tears, which arose almost to convulsive sobs; when she suddenly found herself inclosed in the arms of mademoiselle d'Entragues.

"My beloved friend," she exclaimed, what means this strong emotion? oh!