WHO GOVERNS, THEN?

A TALE OF THE COURT OF LOUIS XV.

(From the German of Zschokke.)

1. THE BOOK-KEEPER.

"I AM ruined, Colas!" exclaimed Monsieur Larmes, as he returned at an unusual hour from the bureau of the Admiralty, at Paris, in which he was book-keeper, throwing himself with a countenance of despair into his easy chair-" I am ruined! We must part. I can no longer provide you a home, Colas, and grieved am I that I can no longer perform my pledge to your mother, to be through life a second father to you!"

Nicholas Rosier, who had never before seen his master in such a state, stood as if thunderstruck at these words. Without Monsieur Larmes, who had taken him into his house about a year and a half before, he was in fact the most lonely being on the face of the earth. In the village where he had lived with his mother, a poor seamstress, he had learned little more than to write a handsome hand, and with the trifling earnings he was thus able to make as a copyist he was barely able to defray their humble household expenses. Monsieur Larmes, who had been an early friend of his mother, had had the kindness to receive the young man into his house, giving him employment as a copyist, and treating him as his own son. Nicholas was

a worthy young fellow, and an object, therefore, of much affection to Monsieur Larmes; who being a solitary old bachelor of sixty, had destined him for the sole heir, at some future day, of his little property.

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Ruined!" said Nicholas-" what have you done?"

"It is that I have not done an act that I have been commanded to do," replied the book-keeper, throwing his pocket-book upon the table. "But we will speak of that presently. I will give you what ready money I have, as my last legacy. If you do not see me to-morrow, or if I am in prison, then go and seek for other employment wherever you can find it ; and never consider me other than an honest man, whatever they may accuse me of."

Nicholas was distracted with wonder and grief. foster-father with tears in his eyes to tell him what and swore rather to die than forsake him.

He implored his had taken place,

The old man after a long silence at last said: "Colas, to you, and you alone, do I dare tell it. Listen, but wo will betide you if you ever repeat it. It would cost you your liberty-perhaps your life, as

it will mine. It is well perhaps, however, to confide it to you, that you at least, if no soul else, may believe in my innocence. Be silent as the grave. And if you ever should be rash enough to destroy yourself, do not at least speak before I am dead."

Nicholas pledged himself to fulfil all his foster-father's demands. Monsieur Larmes then proceeded: "There is a deficit in the treasury of more than half a million. The affair has been divulged, and is no longer to be concealed. My principal, M. de Gatry, has ruined himself by his dissolute prodigality. To save himself he would now saGod knows for what offence

I

like a

crifice another than the true offender. am his selected victim. He offered me forty, sixty thousand livres, if I would acknowledge myself guilty in his stead, in a letter under my own hand addressed to him. He threw himself upon his knees before me. Because I have no wife nor children, and am my own master, with nothing to risk and everything to gain, while he would bring disgrace upon his rank, his office, the honor of his family, his wife and children, and all that belonged to him, he believed it would be an easy matter for me to submit to his demand-to write a letter to him, for every line of which he would requite me with ten thousand livres, and to fly to a foreign country. He sprang up madman when I, a poor but honest man, began with all due modesty to give utterance to my trembling objections. But presently resuming his coolness, he again began: 'There is no retreat for you. I demand from you the books of control and those of the treasury. I have already altered them to my purposes. If you, therefore, persist in ruining me, by God, you shall first pay the penalty of your own life. Choose. We are playing life for life.' This was the purport of his words. I was so terrified that I knew not how to act, or how to extricate myself. The perspiration gushed from every pore. In his phrenzy I believed him to be on the point of assassinating me. He could then have easily reported that I had confessed myself guilty of embezzlement, had entreated his pardon, and, not obtaining it, had committed suicide on the spot. Oh, Colas, of what is not such a man capable!"

"I will

"That man is the incarnate arch-fiend!" cried Nicholas. fly to the minister-to the Cardinal Bernis-to the king-to implore his protection."

"Do you wish to devote yourself to death!" exclaimed Monsieur Larmes. "You have promised to be silent. Do not attempt a single step, nor utter a single syllable. When the time comes, counsel comes with it. I have asked for a respite. M. de Gatry has granted me twenty-four hours. To-morrow morning, precisely at ten o'clock, I must bring him my decision. Here is the letter which he gave me himself, for me to copy and address to him, and I must fly with extra post haste, or I shall be a prisoner at eleven. Till then, I am not allowed to leave the house. You too are forbidden to go out. He has men

employed to watch us.

My life as well as yours is at stake. The madman will hesitate at nothing."

"And what will you do, Monsieur Larmes ?" inquired Nicholas, anxiously.

"I place my trust in God! He does not permit innocence to be oppressed, Colas. I will be silent, and hope for the best. I will wait till they imprison me. In the hands of justice I shall at least be safe from assassins. Then I will speak, come what may. God does not forsake innocence. Till then, be silent. I will give you all my ready money. Should I be innocently condemned, and should the wretch crush me through the mighty influence of his family, remember to remain always an honest man, and look out for yourself. Your ruin can be of no avail to me."

They talked for some time longer about this dreadful affair-the book-keeper with the firm courage of a good conscience, Nicholas with the despair and grief of a grateful, affectionate son. Monsieur Larmes by degrees acquired greater calmness and composure, the more Nicholas lost both. The former in endeavoring to impart consolation to his ward found it himself. He directed him to go up to his room to work, and dissipate his grief as well as he could. In silence and sadness Nicholas obeyed; and Monsieur Larmes, who felt himself in the position of a dying man, proceeded to busy himself with the arrangement and adjustment of his papers.

2. PAULINE.

PALE and wringing his hands, Nicholas Rosier was pacing the inner court of the hotel, in the rear of which were the apartments occupied by Monsieur Larmes. The hotel belonged to the Count d'Oron, who with his wife had rendered it one of the most brilliant houses in Paris. It was even said that the Prince de Soubise was paying his addresses to the daughter of the count. The prince was indeed her frequent visiter, but was himself conscious enough that his visits were intended less for the young countess, than for her beautiful playmate and companion, Pauline de Pons. Pauline, an orphan, poor and dependent on the bounty of the count, but very lovely, payed little regard to the flatteries that were addressed to her by the prince, who, with forty years of experience, was deeply versed in all the intrigues of the court and of love. Herself in the freshest bloom of youth, her eye was all the clearer for that of her neighbor Nicholas, whose age was about twenty-five. She had constantly, therefore, some important matter of business to arrange with him. He had always to copy, either for herself or the countess, now a poem, or now a piece of music, for which he received some little compensation. But he would never have dreamed of the possibility of his having

made an impression on the heart of Pauline. A constant intercourse with Pauline had indeed become a delightful necessity to him. Why should he not take pleasure in the company of the lovely girl? Yet did he not understand the silent glow of her eye, and he could meet her without emotion and leave her with tranquillity. He knew not even what love was. Pauline was standing at the window when the agitated Nicholas was pacing the court-yard. Terrified at the sight of the speechless agony in which she saw her favorite thus absorbed, "Hist! hist, Nicholas !" she whispered, beckoning to him with her hand. Looking up, he silently obeyed her summons. "What is the matter with you, Nicholas ? For God's sake what has happened to you?" she exclaimed, as he entered her room. sighed but made no reply. "Dear Nicholas, speak-speak, I entreat you! Your silence kills me. Has any misfortune befallen you? Confide it to me, however dreadful it may be. I conjure you, confide it to me !"

He

His only answer was again a deep sigh. Pauline's anxiety had now risen to its highest pitch. "How, Nicholas !" she cried-" do you not deem me worthy even of an answer? Have I offended you? Have you not the slightest regard for me? Do not leave me long in this terrible suspense! Oh, speak!"

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'Lady Pauline," replied Nicholas, "suffer me to maintain my silence. Speak I dare not—but we shall be forced to separate. Tomorrow I leave this house, and perhaps Paris."

At this announcement Pauline grew deadly pale. Faint and dizzy, she sank down to a seat, and gazed wildly on her companion, and grasping his hand as if wishing to retain him, that he might not leave her, stammered out: "Colàs, why?"

He still made no reply. She presently repeated the question with a trembling voice. Her eyes were full of tears. "Have you so little confidence in me as to refuse to tell me the reason for which you are about to leave Paris? Colas, if you could feel So, I would hate you with all my heart if I were able-no, I would not do that. Go-I have not a friend on earth but you. Go-you will find friends and female friends enough, but none who will sympathize more deeply with you in your joys and sorrows. Go!" she repeated, covering her face with her hands, and sobbing aloud.

"Ah, dear Pauline," replied Nicholas, as he looked upon the beautiful weeper, with a heart pierced with grief-" it is not my fault that I must go. How gladly would I not remain! How touched am I with your sympathy! If you knew what I"

At these words Pauline looked up to him and said: "Ah, hypocrite! I dear to you, and yet you so delight in torturing me! Thank heaven that I have no brother, for had he been like you I should have been in my grave long ago!"

"And if I had a sister," he sadly repeated-" and she resembled

then I should be happy!-then could I pour out my grief you-yes, in her bosom.

But

"Pour out your grief into mine. I can perhaps at least assist you with advice, dear Colas. Imagine me that sister. Here, take a sister's hand," as she arose and offered him her hand.

Nicholas kissed the hand with timid respect, and looked in confusion into the beautiful eyes of his sister, who entreated him so tenderly for his secret. "What will it cost to unseal this silent mouth?" she said, tapping with her fingers upon his lips, and suffering her hand to fall negligently over upon his shoulders. I do not know how it happened, that brother and sister, leaning thus cheek to cheek and mouth to mouth, forgot for the moment the expression of their feelings in words. But Nicholas felt himself changed. He actually saw a sister in the fair young Pauline de Pons. He had no longer a secret. After she had vowed eternal silence, he imparted all to her that he had himself learned from Monsieur Larmes half an hour before. Pauline, terrified as she was at the recital of this intelligence, yet felt herself happy. She loved him, and imagined that nothing was impossible to love.

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Compose yourself, dear Colas," she said; "you must not, you shall not leave me. Some means shall be contrived to save your fosterfather!"

'But," said Nicholas, with an anxious sigh, "without betraying anything?"

"If I could only devise some plan on the spot!" she cried, striking her forehead. "Go, Colas-go and leave me alone. I will ponder upon it-something must be done!"

Nicholas departed; but turning back at the door, raised his finger threateningly, but with a smile: "Sister Pauline, if you do betray me, I shall never again become the brother of another sister."

3. THE PRINCE DE SOUBISE.

At the same moment the carriage of the Prince de Soubise stopped at the hotel. The prince was mounting the stairs as Pauline stepped out of the room, her face still flushed from that very sisterly tête-à-tête. The prince, who had never seen her more attractive-how could she appear otherwise in the glow of a first passion!—almost lost the power of speech as he beheld the lady so radiant in all the happiness of love. Oh, heavens, how beautiful you are!" he exclaimed, kissing her hand. She conducted him into the saloon, and expressed her regret that he had missed the count, who had gone out in his carriage accompanied by his wife and daughter.

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"You regret it on my account, while I but congratulate myself. Would that every mischance in life might be requited to me like this!" was his answer.