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waste, for the power to weep, but in vain.

My eye-balls throb with agony, my brain feels scorching, but I cannot weep.” . . The old woman passed her hand over her brow, and was silent for a moment. It was a fearful picture that poor withered being suffering with anguish almost too much for mortals, and that young, gentle girl her cheek blanched at the tale she was hearing and her hands clasped unconsciously in her agitation. Go, on, oh go on!” she murmured, and started at the strangeness of her voice. Her companion slowly raised her head and continued, but her breath came fast and thick. - - “I will go on,” she said, “I entered the cottage—but instead of the fond smile, and the kind words of welcome I had expected, I was greeted with a look of sorrow

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century, and which the curious traveller may still discover, opposite the southwest angle of the majestic Domkirche, or cathedral of that venerable city. . . . . . . .

The older of the two friends, Leopold Baron S., of an ancient family in Brandenburg, was a captain in the service of

will have learnt one useful lesson from .

DE LINDORF.

and elaborate carvings of the sixteenth

from three or four men who were standing Prussia. He was a young man of lively round a bed. I rushed towards it, do I temperament, of daring couragé, and no live to tell it thee, Rose Middleton... or is little indignant that he was doomed for past life all a dream 7–my boy, my Harry six months or longer, to the irksome and, the child of my young heart's passionate to his generous spirit, degrading duties of

love, my brave, my noble one, lay there a lifeless and disfigured corpse! They had met! The villian and my Henry had fought with pistols. remember the chill that ran through my veins and settled in my heart, from whence it has never moved. I caught him in my arms---but I remember nothing more. They said I went mad, and it may be that I did. I sometimes think I am maddening now ; and then I kneel and pray, not with my lips, they will not move, but heart, and I am more tranquil. “Do not weep, Rose,” she continued in

I know no more I

with my|
remburg, he despatched a messenger to

the Prussian recruiting service. Recollecting, however, soon after he received his order for immediate departure, that he had a favourite college companion resident within two hours' ride of Nuremburg, he left his pleasant quarters at Berlin somewhat reconciled to an appointment, the lucrative nature of which, in mercenary hands, made him an object of envy to or oncer of more calculating haits. .

The morning after his arrival at Nu

apprize his friend, Theodore Walden, of

plaintive accents, beholding her young his vicinity, and the same evening found.

companion in tears, “in the course of na-them in social converse over a bottle of ture my sufferings must soon end; but you Rhenish in the antique but cheerful aparthave a long life, before you. As you ment occupied by the youthful captain, in

would choose between a happy one or the Koenig von Preussen. A few years.

of the Prussian recruiting party, an oldfashioned hotel, the gableend front of which

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appearance also bearing of the baron. The same period passed in seclusion and study amidst the romanti; scenery of his fine estate near: Nureñburg; had caused, no perceptible difference is Theodoré.who gazed with surprise at his friend's martial exterior, and wild freedom of mantier. The lively officer rallied his diffident cpmpañón Ö3 the classic elegance and fasti, dous réfingineus of his language and dePortment. An hour of orestrained com: munion suffioed to convince the more acute; and observant soldier...that his friend was still the same bashfīl, retiring, and senti. mental youth he had known at the univer: sity, and that his more recent stößies hail been confined to poetry and romanée. It wis evident also: that his "..." bits had made hitná day:dreamer-orie groñe to indige in thorhidloňging; after some nameless and indefinable hap piness; some good inconsistedt, with human infirmity. When quostión"d by Leopold concerning

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y fixed, his largé e and remained, motionless, as a stato...?' While:Theodore was gazing at him in surprise; he heard some one approaching; and, looking round, befield with afiaze. . .

ment, not utimingled with alarm, another man at his elbow; the very counterpart df the Swiss in features; stature, and coso.

thime.'... . . . . . . . . . . . ; s • * . . . . .
This doublette of the dumb door-keeper.
was equally taciturn, and rivetted a pair. . . .
of large unmeaning:blue eyes upon the . . .
bewildered. Theodore, who was retreating
in terror towards the door, when he was
stöpped by the loud satigh 31, his friend. . . .
The truth began to Brååkin tippi, his per: ...".
plexed faculties; with returning courage, .
he again approached the two still motion- .
less Janitors, and discovered, that the one: . . .
he had first seen was doorfigire, admi-.
rably modelled from the original, who now: . .
made his bow, apółogized for the practi.
cal joke, and begged they would honour.
his incomparāble exhibition of waxfigures .
with their presenée. . . . . . . . . . . . .
Theodore, , however, upon whom the

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of the wax strengthens the illusion. I had,

moreover, a strange and painful adven

ture last year at a similar exhibition in

Vienna, which still haunts my dreams, and may account to you for my agitation at the sudden appearance of the door keeper's double, and my reluctance to encounter his collection at this hour.

... “I had been prevailed upon by our fel. low student Carlsberg, to accompany him as far as Vienna, on his way to Italy, in

quest of relief from a pulmonary disorder.

We arrived late in the evening, and find.

ing that we had half an hour to spare be. fore supper, determitted to view a collec: tion of waxfigures then exhibiting on the ground-floor of our hotel. As we entered, the proprietor, expecting no more company, had cotinguished most of the lights, and to save time and the trouble of re. lighting them, we requested him to take a taper in each hand, and show us the best models in his collection. . . . . "

“After viewing the elder and the youn ger B. utus, C+sar, Louis XIV., Robes.

Fierre, and many other ancient and modern notables, and laughing at the judicrous cf.

sect produced by the bizarre grouping and

distribution of the historical characters, we followed our cicerone, an intelligens

Italian, into a small inner room, covered with black cloth, and containing a single,

but exquisite figure, which the proprietor

told us was the gem of his collection, and

modelled by himself after the well known

portrait by Guido, in the Barberini palace,

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* - - - • . . . - * victed and executed for the murder of her . “My companion, who was an imagi!ative youth, hesides a poet and in deli. “ate health, was, strongly exeited by the ontemplation of the innocent and lovely catures of this noble-minded woman. Surely,' said he, addressing the Italian, to judge from that pure and guileless countenance, paral justice must have been suilty of deliberate murder?” . . . . . “* E poss ble, Signor,' answered the Italian, with a shi tig, “’tis said: in Rome, that she was condemined by his Holiness, hat he might confiscate with better glace

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he large property of the Cenci family,” “Carlsberg shook his head, as he con

sinued;— You must be an able artist to have wrought so perfect a facsimile of Guido's beautiful picture. Would to hea. ven,” he added, with a deep sigh, “that you had power to rekindle the departed soul, gain to irradiate those angelic features with life and motion '' . . . . . .

“‘You are by no means the first to ut: er that wish,' answered the Italian, with a smile, ''Twas but last week I had a visitor who expressed the same. He gazed at the features of his model until his face grew pale, and his limbs trembled—"I always feel,” said he, “a strange and unaccountable terror when I gaze long upon the picture or statue of any one whose death has been violent and untimely; more especially when the original has died on the scaffold. Indeed,” he added, “I cannot divest myself of a belief that the souls of those who have thus died longer near their semblances, and even partially reonimate them at the earnest wish of the bc. holder.” ". . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Exhausted by long travelling, and im: patient for food and rest, I regarded thi. strange story of the proprietor as one of his customary conceiti, uttered daily to amuse or excite his visitors, My compo nion, however, was differently affected. Ile took one of the lights from the Pro

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of the unfortunate Beatries Cenci, con

* . . * * * *

* At this moment the Italian was su"

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Aptain, as they were surveying the wax

del haunts me strangely, and my fingers

... . . . o . . . . . . : . . . o Julia' de Lindorf. . . . . . ... . . . . ; ... ." se.

moned to the outer room. I followed him.

before a minute had elapsed I was startled by a scream and a noise like that caused by a heavy fall. A suspicion of the truth flashed upon me, Deploring my untimely jest, I hastened back into the inner room, and found my invalid friend prostrate and senseless at the feet of Beatrice Cenci; and by the light of his still burning taper, I beheld one of her hands broken off and

of the Italian, I conveyed Carlsberg up stairs. He was in a deep swoon, and ré. quired medical aid for some days before his constitution recovered from the effects of this si...gular delusion. He subsequent. ly told me, that as he gazed on the fair face of Beatrice, and recollected the strange anecdote related by the Italian, he thought he could perceive the hues of life reddening in slow diffusion beneath the

eyes displayed a humid lustre he had noi

isible impulse, and gently grasped the

indescribable horrour, returned the pres sure. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . " He did not hesitate to acknowledge

of distempered sensibility and infirm healil:

constitution had received a severe shock, and my last accounts of him from Na

ome but slender, hopes of his re. covery.” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The lively, but, kindhearted soldier ad: mitted that his friend had given a valid season for declining to view the waxfigures by lamplight; but, before they retired for the night, he exacted a promise that The odere should, on the ensuing day, accom. Pany him to the exhibition. . . . . .

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gures on the following morning, “your Trible story about Beatrice Cenci's mo.

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- every pretty girl of wax in this hetero. to look once more at a group of figuresgeneous collection: . . . . . . . . . . . .: which had awakened 'my. uriosity, and “ * * * - - - *inquired Theodore, smiling, “you recom.

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a combination of feature and expression. as this, have I sought for years, and the maiden. Howould marry must possess just

those radiant eyes and magnificent eye

|brows, that lofty intelligence of forehead, that angelic purity of character about the * * * * * - |ips. By heavens ! Leopold. Raphael . . . . . .- ... . . . . . . . himself never copied or composed so per: . . . . . . . . . sect a combination of human features " .

odore co

cheeks . object of his admiration, when suddenly starting, as if struck by some inspiring

single with inclination to shake hands with

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fancy, he exclaimed, “I must know, an instantly, Leopold whether the original

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old, “and you will find her...I tony safe. leave the discovery to the natural ma-... . gic of your own sympathiés,” he added, turning away to glance at a group of:las

dies then entering the apartment. Some . . minutes had elapsed before he thonght of rejoining Theodore, whom he discovered. in the inner exhibition room, intently con: . templating a female figure of singular. . .

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with pensive aspect in a chair, holding a . book in her hand, find displaying, pot only . in the elegance of her Greek costiime, but .

and intelled.".

- lost in admiration of . the fascinating object, that he did not dis. . cover his volatile friend looking over his . shoulder, until he was rôused from his ab-, . straction by a hearty laugh, “Ha! has . Theodores” said Leopold, “caught, by . . Jove! and doubtless ready to marry her . . in half an hour. Sce: you not how the

he humid and growing lustre of those dark blue orbs—but, beware beware of . . the icy hand—touch it, and you die!”

“d Theodore, “I am not so far gone in . romance as poor Carlsberg, nor do I be." |tieve in ghosts; but I can discern in that face of wax, grâces such as I, never yet beheld in living woman. Precisely such,

| Regardless of the laughing soldier, The. ' nued long to gaze with flushed growing emotion, at the fair

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|Italian whether he would sell, the model,

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and eyebrows; “Tis. The Frenchman told me. that the lady had been arrested by the Committee of Públic. Safety, and that in less than.h. week she was condemned and i . ." “. . ." . . . . . . .

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- “... . . . . . .” -: *, *, *... . . ... "," "... . . . . . . . On the ensuing morning, Leopold, who had been out early on duties connected. with the recruiting service, was no little. surprised on his return to find the follow: ing note from Theodore on his breakfast. tablé. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . “Pardon me, my dear friend, that I quito you this abruptly, for a reason too, which your more worldly, notions may deem ro: maritic, and, too probably, absurd. . . . . ...] cannot, however, divest myself of a belief..that the Italian's information con: cerningihe original of that beauteous moo dèll leave to your friendly care, is wholly. or partially a fiction. As the costume. , however. *rench, and the French book'." in her hand was printed, at Sträsburg, am disposed to believe the lovely original. a native of A isite, and I have determined to enter France at all risks, and to explore that province in quest of the incompari: blewoman whose resemblance has laid so strong a hold upon my imägination, that I have already ceased to contend with the feeling. . . . . . . . . . . . .'; . . . . . . . . “Again; Leopold, Tbeseech you to paro

on my alirupt departure, and to believe. (ne, not the less, ... . * ; : :"...o. “Your sincerely attached friend,..., ,

*::, ; ; , . . . . 'THEaboar."

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The first impulse of Leopold, on per sing this farewell note, was anger at the

o “Alas, Signor”;replied the Italian
* . . . . '...'. ‘. . . . . . . . . . . . ... . . . . . ."

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