"I know what it is," said Célestine then; Their inquiries after 'Lena Marbout were as "she thought you incited all this uproar against unsuccessful. Neither the one nor the other were her, because you know you said you would hiss to be found or heard of. her off the stage." "And did you tell her so?" said Dupré, turning fiercely to him. SCENE THE LAST. The flower-market on the Place de Madeleine "You told me to do so," the old man answered. was as brilliant as the flower-market of the Made"But be easy, we will tell her the truth to-mor-leine ought to be. Camelias, myrtles, oranges, expanded their delicate or fragrant blossoms; and between the lovely ranks marched our little old man, his hands joined behind his back, his stick held across it, his head moving from side to side, like an admirer amid the beauties of a ball-room, uncertain where to give his preference. The truth was the little old man was afraid to make advances, for common flowers on the Place de la Madeleine were as rare as common people, and dear in proportion. His violet was quite gone, and he speculated on replacing it with a pot of mignonette. A smart calèche drove up to the entrance of the flower-market; an over-dressed young lady was handed out by an equally over-dressed footman, who, with a bâton in his hand, followed her steps down the alley of flowers. She bought And they supped together, and parted to meet a superb white camelia, on which the poor little in the morning. In the morning they met. They went to the house of Boulevard St. Martin, and rang the bell; the door as usual opened invisibly. The third story was reached, and the bell of 'Lena's apartment rung. There was no answer, and no one appeared. At last there came down the old woman who had the charge of the whole house. Célestine asked for Mademoiselle de Lys, for Dupré would not use the name, and that of 'Lena was not known. The old woman had applied a key to the lock before they spoke. "I thought you wanted the apartment," she said. "Mademoiselle de Lys has given it up." As she spoke the door opened. It was empty of all living things. "Where has she gone' "" demanded Dupré. "How can I tell, monsieur? She sent and paid her rent up early this morning, though it is not due for more than a month to come." "Tell me where she is gone," Dupré repeated more loudly. "Monsieur seems to think it possible to know where all the actresses in Paris go to," replied the old woman, looking at Célestine, as if she though he must be more reasonable. "Perhaps she is gone to the provinces; perhaps she is gone to a more modest lodging-she failed last night, they say; perhaps she has got a protector." Dupré almost knocked the old woman down, and rushed out of the salon into the chambre à coucher, thinking 'Lena might be concealed there; it, too, was empty. Célestine poked about on the mantlepiece and cheffonier in search of a card of address, but there was none; nor could any further tidings be learned of Mademoiselle de Lys than that she had paid up her rent and given up her lodgings. man had cast many a glance of admiration, while, like a humble lover true to a humbler love, he looked more tenderly at the modest violet beneath it. The lady bent over the flowers; the plumes of her white bonnet hung forward, and, with her long drooping curls, concealed her features; but her cheeks were pale, her eyes were dull; and it was not until he heard her voice that the little old man, with a cry of surprise, exclaimed— "'Lena! Mademoiselle de Lys! C'est bien vous? N'est-ce pas ?" 'Lena trembled, grew a little paler, but yet looked glad. "Ah," she said, we are fated to meet in the flower-markets!" An appropriate compliment this time failed the little old man; the violet, the budding rose, the white camelia-all emblems failed him; or 'Lena, was it that she failed to present to his honest mind a corresponding image? "You have come to buy your modest pot of violet, my dear professor; is it not so?" she said. But the arch pleasantry of her address on the Quai aux Fleurs was gone. 'Yes, mademoiselle-or-madame," said the old man, bowing, with a constrained air, for he felt as if "Mademoiselle" were no longer 'Lena's title; "yes, I am constant to my violet, but there can be no longer opposition between us. It is not always that one descends in the world, as you once said. You, on the contrary, rise too high for your friends to follow." 'Lena looked surprised at the bitterness of the old man's tone; but as she looked in his face her eyes became suffused with tears. cast sky, "you are angry with me; but Well, perhaps, we both have cause for complaint; will you be friends with me?" ous description. The little old man sat down, and was absorbed in it. He half arose, moved to the edge, and looked behind him at its back. She held out her hand; the old man caught it," Marvellous!" he ejaculated, and sank into it and pressed the tips of her delicate gloves with his lips. "Let me carry your beautiful camelia," he cried, 66 as I carried your pot of violets, and your 'budding rose.' with such a sensation of bodily, animal, and mental enjoyment as he had never felt in the course of his threescore years. Oh, with coffee and that arm-chair what glorious things might not be written!-how easy would be the flow of ideas! But when was genius born to luxury? His thoughts reverted to his harsh rush-bottomed chair, his inkstained table-ah, well! after death these will be memorable, precious! A hearty laugh dissipated the dreamy soliloquies to which his solitary habits 'Now, monsieur, the will stands accepted for accustomed him. It was 'Lena, the pretty enluthe deed; so enter and come home with me, as mineuse, who laughed then-it was the young you did on the former occasions. But will you-grocer's love who laughed; it was not Mademoican you?" 'Lena added, with an almost beseech- selle de Lys the actress, neither was it the great ing air. unknown of that handsome salon. And with bent knees and bent back the little old man essayed to lift the heavy pot. 'Lena made a sign to the footman, who, with an ill-disguised sneer, raised the flower and transported it to the carriage. "Mademoiselle," said the old man, "I believe it my duty to follow you wherever you are." He was thinking of his promise to Monsieur Dupré. 'Lena followed her camelia to the carriage, made the poor old man enter it with her, though she seemed somewhat to deprecate the saucy regards of the two attendants, and drove to a rather stylish mansion. She went up stairs, followed still by the finely-equipped footman, whom Monsieur Célestine, holding his hat in his hand, made pass before him. While she directed him how to place the flower Célestine stood in the door-way, his head thrown back, his eyes-and, indeed, his mouth too-rather widely opened, his dust-engrained hat held down at the very tip of the rim and full extension of the arm, and his head moving like that of a mandarin, as he surveyed the bright and handsome salon. enfin, "Où sommes-nous ?" he soliloquized; où sommes-nous? Mademoiselle 'Lena, the pretty illuminator of Blue Beard and Tom Thumb, lodging on the sixth, and buying a simple violet; then Mademoiselle de Lys, actress, buying a budding rose-tree, and living on the third; and now-ah, descending always! -we are on the first, in a splendid salon, and buying a superb camelia; but who are we now ?" Alas, a good grocer's wife and great packets of coffee faded from the poor old man's vision as he asked the question! The footman had now placed the camelia, and turned his back on the lady with an unrepressed sneer; he passed the old man, who was forced to move out of the door-way, surveying him from head to foot with a disdain which words could not have uttered. "Ah!" said Célestine to himself, "that grand gentleman does not respect her; but he does not respect me either-such is the fate genius meets from the vulgar. But after death-ah, after death!" 66 Ah, 'Lena! Mademoiselle 'Lena!" cried the little old man, as much as to say, "I have found you again.' The meaning of his voice and words checked her gayety. "It is so long since I laughed like that," she said, putting her cambric handkerchief to her eyes; "but to see you and that great easy chair making an acquaintance was quite a scene. "You do not, then, often laugh now?" said old Célestine. "I have no one to laugh with, no one to laugh at," she replied. "No cause for laughter now." Mademoiselle, or madame, for I know not which to call you," said Célestine, "tell me, are you married?" No," 'Lena replied, lifting her open eyes to "Alas!" said the old man with a deep sigh. 66 Because, mademoiselle, because I knew your mother; because I knew you when you bought the pot of violets on the Quai aux Fleurs, and illustrated Beauty and the Beast on the sixth story." 'Lena sank back on the handsome couch she sat on; the tears that started to her eyes could not be stopped, they rolled down her cheeks. "'Lena, 'Lena," cried the old man, 66 tell me truly, are you happy?" Happy! oh, no! I once was happy-when we met on the Quai aux Fleurs." 66 "Poor child, poor child!" said the old man, seating himself beside her, and taking her hand in his. ''Lena, there is mercy with God more than with men; though you have erred and strayed from the right way, return, my child, return to Him; for his dear Son's sake He will open His arms of love, and shield you from sin and suffering forever. Oh!" he continued, while she wept on, I foresaw this when you first spoke to me of your penchant for the stage. I knew the pretty orphan, the unprotected child, could not susShe pointed to an easy chair of a most luxuri-tain its temptations, its many dangers." "Now, my good professor," said 'Lena, with a tone and manner quite unlike that of the pretty enlumineuse, "take that fauteuil." "My friend, my friend!" 'Lena interrupted, going to my own lodging. I'must confess all, pressing his hand almost convulsively in hers, monsieur; I believe my head had lain upon his "You go too far-you conclude I am fallen, lost, arm in the carriage; I believe he almost carried guilty; except in thought, except in irresolution me into the house; surely the spirit of my pious of purpose, I have not sinned in the way you mother watched round her child and saved me." imagine. But will you listen to what I have to "Saved her?" Célestine ejaculated, almost tell since we last met? Oh, Monsieur Célestine, gasping. it is very sweet to have a friend to tell all this to ; yet there is very little to tell." 66 Speak, tell me all," said Célestine, whose handkerchief had been stanching the drops from his eyes. "Yes, saved her as yet. I did not think or care to save myself. I was abandoned to despair. But as we mounted the stairs monsieur's valet came running down, saying, with an air of excitement, that he had been on the point of starting to the theatre in search of his master. Three gentlemen, with whom he was associated in an important speculation in Algeria, had come to the house to bring him tidings of an affair which demanded his immediate presence; they were all to set out together by the malle poste. My patron left me in a chamber and went to them directly; his valet had orders to pack his portmanteau. He only returned to me to bid me adieu; he told me that my engagement at the theatre was at an end, that I must not demand my salary, that I would "Monsieur," she said with gravity," from that be ruined in every way if I did not accept the fatal night my ambition was at an end." "You ask me if I am happy," said 'Lena. "No, I am not. Can I be so when every friend is gone from me, when I am alone with a cold and sullen stateliness with which a heart like mine, I now find, can have no fellowship? Alas! I aspired to grandeur, I longed to be a great lady. Well, I have all that is fine and luxurious about me and I am miserable." "You do not care to act the princess any longer?" said Célestine, in a caressing tone. 'Lena shook her head. "Then why," cried the old man, glancing round the room, 66 why are you here? why are you so grand?" "Ah! that is what I have to tell you. You see, monsieur, that fatal night I left the theatre heart-broken, plunged in an abyss of grief and shame. Oh! those horrid faces, those glaring eyes all round the house, those grinning teeth, and venomous hisses-ah! I see them, I feel them still! And he, too, he who so long pursued me with his love, who so long tried to kindle mine-I saw him gesticulating to the mob he had brought there. I saw him resolved to crush and when I came forth overwhelmed, dead with shame and despair, he was there to triumph me; over me. 66 asylum of his house, which he would leave me to take charge of. He added that he had sent his man to pay my rent, and remove my effects from my lodgings; that no one would disturb me here, but I must promise him not to depart before his return to France. I promised, and he left me. When he was gone I found all was at my orders, and what I did not order was brought; the modiste came with robes, and bonnets, and shawls, and I had nothing to do, and took a pleasure in dressing myself and acting the great lady. But at last I began to tire of this, and better thoughts came back; I recollected the happy times when I used to work for my daily bread. I felt that my vanity and love of applause had led me into a great deal of trouble, that my levity had cost me the love of my best friends. I was unhappy, and I wrote to Dupré ?" cried Célestine; but he stopped short. my patron. I wanted to know his purposes, he "Yes, Dupré! I resolved, then, that he should had given me hints that made me think he wished never triumph again, that he should never hear to make me his wife on his return. I wrote to more of me. But hear all that passed, and then him-there, Monsieur Célestine, there is his advise me tell me what I ought to do. Oh, it is sweet to be told what we must do! My patron Célestine, putting on his spectacles, perused the was always there; it was he who procured me letter, while 'Lena, with glowing cheeks and tearthe engagement, it was he who got me to under-ful eyes, sat beside him. It was just such a lettake the part of the Princess. When the curtain ter as might be expected. 'Lena was to have fell so suddenly he was at my side; he took me money, servants, dress, pleasures, everything but away and put me into his own carriage. I cared the name of wife; but her patron having an obnot where I was, nor where I went; but some-jection to matrimony, that subject was never to be how he soothed me-it was balm to hear words of praise, to know my talents were still appreciated though my success on the stage was hopeless. I would have clung to any friend at such a moment; and when, without actually speaking of love, I felt his tenderness, and believed in his affection, I thought of nothing, feared nothing, cared for nothing in the world, but to get into an asylum and be hidden from public gaze. I was faint too, and stupefied with grief; we had got "'Lena, do you love this man?" asked Célesinto this house before I was aware we were not tine, rather sternly, tapping the letter. answer." hinted at again. The writer concluded with a "Oh, no! Perhaps that fatal evening, in my misery, I might have fancied so. But, no; my ambition, my vanity might have ended in still worse shame and degradation, but I should not have had the excuse of love. It was because poor Dupré forsook, cast me off, insulted me!" "" Lena, you have been very foolish!" Oh, yes! and very culpable. But I was cast off by every one; I had neither friend, nor money, nor trade remaining." "You loved Monsieur Dupré, 'Lena, yet you would not listen to him." "Because my vanity was stronger then than my love," said 'Lena, candidly, "and I thought I had him in chains too strong to be easily burst. Ah, it was only when you told me he had cast me off, that the love grew stronger than the vanity." The old man's face brightened. "You have been very wrong, 'Lena." "Yes, you repeat that; every one will repeat it. When a woman even appears to fall, there is no help for her. There is no resource for me. I may as well be worse, since no one will care if I am better." "Lena, there is One who trieth the hearts, as well as seeth the ways. Child, will you speak so, when you know God judgeth not as man judgeth?" 'Lena caught the old man's hand; her warm tears fell fast as she bowed her head with an air of penitence and sorrow. "You have sinned," he continued; "but still you are virtuous, and your heart as yet uncorrupted. Rise, then, to the paths of virtue and peace, and forsake those that lead to error and misery. Will you leave this house?" "I would gladly; but what am I to do? Where am I to go?" "Do! ask charity from door to door. Go! go out under the canopy of heaven, and let God's peace and blessing descend from thence upon you!" 'Lena threw her arms around the old man's neck, pressed her lips on his calm forehead, and, crying out, "Attendez, attendez !" ran out of the room with, perhaps, rather a considerable degree of her old theatrical airs. "If you stay, you are not in safety, 'Lena." "Oh, yes," she replied. "I have put off his fine clothes, and will never put them on; I have left them already; I am wiser now than I was. "It is a point of honor," said the old man, "difficult to determine, for your promise was wrong;" and, as he spoke, he turned to the window to reflect more fully on the question. "What is here, mademoiselle ?" he cried. "A post-carriage has just stopped at the door!" 'Lena flew to the window. "It is he! it is he! save yourself!" she exclaimed, pushing the old man to the door. "Mademoiselle," said the little man, planting his feet firmly one in advance of the other, with his stick horizontally presented as if to poniard the new-comer, "I will not save myself without you. I had just resolved never to leave this house till you left it also." "Sainte Marie !" cried 'Lena, seizing him by the coat and dragging him over the floor; "he is coming, he will kill you for this! Ah, he will throw you out of the window! Quick! this way -this way She opened a side-door leading into one of those passages common in French houses, which conduct to a private staircase and an entrance into some bye-street, generally at the side or back of the house; but, as she pushed the little old man through it, he grasped her firmly in his arms, and Mademoiselle 'Lena and the little old man nearly rolled down the stairs and into the street beyond them. "Now," he said, drawing his breath, now take my arm, and we will run. Don't be afraid; you are saved. I would have died rather than left you. We are designed to be the protectors of the feebler sex. 'Lena trembling, half laughing and half crying, was now ready to laugh altogether, as putting her arm through that of the little old man she hurried him along, supporting rather than being supported. "And now," said the little old man, as he unlocked the door of his small chamber, 66 now we are safe; and I think, mademoiselle, I had better fasten the doors and windows while I go to see if I can get you another chamber in this house, or else when I return I may find the lodging is emp Not many minutes had passed when she reäppeared, transformed once more to 'Lena Marbout. The fine silk robe, the cashmere shawl, the plumed bonnet, were changed for the plain merino dress, the smart little apron, the tiny cap; her flowing|ty again." ringlets were gathered into their former rich and glossy braids; she stood before the old man, and made him a rustic salutation in the style of the farmer's daughter. "No, no, my good friend," said the poor girl, sitting down on the identical box which held the thirty manuscripts, "I have had enough of wanderings, enough of changes; I am too glad to see the face of the only friend I have in the world." "Pardon me, mademoiselle, I have a rival. Let me tell you, Monsieur Dupré never cast you off; he never hissed you; on the contrary, he shook his hands at the audience, and would have fought the whole assembly, if it were possible. Your poor Beast is dying for his Beauty, mademoiselle; but, perhaps, you will not care to turn him into a prince now." 'Lena heard this with surprise. "It was the power of love," she replied, "you once said effected that transformation. "It is, it is!" cried Célestine, rubbing his Alas! my hands with great rapidity. "Mademoiselle must love is unworthy now of him who once sought it." now be placed in safe keeping. My rôle is played; Célestine withdrew, and the sun had nearly re- the three scenes are acted. You see, my dear tired from the dull little chamber before the door child, each scene of our drama has opened in a again opened. Its solitary inmate was still sitting flower-market; and as there are no more floweron the box, her arms resting on her lap, and the markets in Paris, we must let the curtain drop." joined hand supporting her chin. Dupré stood be- "Ah!" said Mademoiselle 'Lena, casting up fore her. She gazed into his countenance with her bright dewy eyes, "the Three Flower-Maranxiety; but read there the unconquered love kets of Paris will be a moral teaching for me. which had endured her faults, follies, and levity. shall always love the violet, and dread the rose She threw herself into the arms that opened to re- and the camelia.” ceive her. I “Then I will cherish the rose and camelia," The little old man, who was behind the young said her lover, "since they teach my 'Lena to be grocer, capered about the room in an ecstasy of en- a good grocer's wife." joyment; and finding no way of expressing it while Must we not add that the little old man, after his guests were occupied with each other, he ran he had given away Mademoiselle 'Lena at the for a jug of water and poured it over his withered altar, lived happily all the rest of his days, and violet, either to express his love, or as a souvenir wrote on coffee ad libitum? But his genius apof his first meeting with the young enlumineuse. peared to take a turn after that event, and his solitary chamber was nearly deserted for the young grocer's lively house. 'Lena and her husband were beside him when he died there; but his thirty manuscripts were found in the box in his chamber duly prepared for going to press after his death. Whether they ever went there, still remains a question for literary research. "What can I ever do for you?" said 'Lena, turning to him at last, as she at once wiped away her tears and hid her blushes. "Marry me as quickly as you can, dear 'Lena," said Dupré, answering for the little old man. "That is what Monsieur Célestine would tell you. Is it not, my good friend?" and he threw him a look which precluded any but an assenting reply. THE SHADOW OF THE PAST. OH! joy to the spring-tide sun, With their fragrance over the eaves; To sing new songs of praise ; Oh, joy to the Spring! but it cannot bring I think on the Past with a thought A face, a form, to my mind is brought, I hear a kind word said By a tongue that is mute and cold I feel the clasp of a hand, now dead And withering in the mould! ; But the thought of a friendship changed Till reason, with peace, seems fled. Tait's Magazine. From the Dublin University Magazine. The woe-worn mother, with her homesick ones, The tear-worn eye is closed in sad repose- To the good ship that bears them o'er the sea. THE EMIGRANT'S TOMB. DEEP in a western forest's shade, In the green recess of a sunless glade, Is a rough-hewn mound-the emigrant's tomb. One fair little child his love to prove- |