consented to this, and, wishing him good morning, I left the house humming the appropriate little ehanson,

"Grenouille se mit en campagne

Pour aller faire l'amour."

I found M. de Beaurepaire as charming as ever, as weary of the world for himself, as full of maxims for the benefit of his friends, as invaluable in his counsels, the result of a ripe experience-so ripe that it might almost be termed rotten. I listened to the sage with inexpressible pleasure as he imparted to me his adventures, his sentiments, and his observations on mankind and womankind with his usual refined insouciance. The breakfast was excellent, and I enjoyed alike the pâté and the principles, the coffee, the claret, and the conversation.

"Have you thought of any achieve ment for the Order, my neophyte?" he asked, presently sipping a petit verre of Chartreuse.

"I have," I said, endeavouring to hide my exultation behind a corresponding modicum of crême de thé.

"You have a grande passion, young man?" he inquired, keenly observing me over his glass.

"Inextinguishable, Monsieur," was my reply.

"Ardour is said to be an element of success in most pursuits, I believe," said M. de Beaurepaire; "but I doubt its efficacy in love. Your calm unimpassioned lover, who has his faculties perfectly under control, and who can coolly watch his opportunity, he, my friend, is the man who commands success.'

An uncontrollable impulse to confide my secret to this man, so wise, so prudent, yet so sympathetic, now seized me. I desired his good opinion and his applause no less

warmly than his counsel. I began, at first hesitatingly; but soon, reassured by the interest he took in the narrative, my natural fluency returned, and I told him of my hopes and aspirations for a distinguished lady, keeping only the secret of my relationship to Ninon, as I styled her throughout my narration.

"Not bad," said M. de Beaurepaire. "By no means bad; on the contrary, it does you credit. And the name of this enslaver is, then, Ninon?" Should

I reflected for a moment. I reveal her real name? But why not? Was he not a brother of the Order, and therefore bound to secresy?

"I call her Ninon," I answered, "but her real name is the Marquise de Toujours-Vert."

Something made M. de Beaurepaire start, for he upset his petit verre over his shirt-front.

"Peste!" he exclaimed, recovering himself, and wiping the Chartreuse from his bosom with his napkin. "But to proceed. The Marquise, does she return your passion?"

"Ardently, I flatter myself," I said. "At least, I venture to hope

So.

If my reader is a young man, I ask him to imagine-if an old man, I ask him to recall-the feelings with which I entered the Hotel ToujoursVert, to keep my appointment with Ninon.

A fille-de-chambre, who awaited

me in the street, conducted me by a private entrance to a room, where she left me. It was vacant. I traversed it impatiently. Then I sat down and waited-no one came. I rose again and walked to and fro. Suddenly I arrested my steps before the fireplace,

above which hung a picture of Ninon. The same complexion, the same azure eyes, the same flaxen hairno difference, except that it smiled, which Ninon, I have said, never did; yet the date in the corner showed that it had been painted before my father was born.

"What a miracle of nature!" I said aloud.

A step crossed the room behind me-my heart bounded-I turned and beheld-M. de Beaurepaire !

He advanced, serenely insouciant

as ever.

"Permit me," he said, " to receive you once more as my guest."

"Your guest!" I exclaimed. "Allow me to inform you, Monsieur, that this jest is untimely, and I will take the liberty to add, Monsieur, that the pleasure of seeing you is unexpected. It is impossible to believe that you have taken advantage of my confidence only to betray it. I trust you can explain your presence here satisfactorily."

"Perfectly so, I imagine," he replied, taking out his snuff-box. "I" -here he took a pinch-"am"-he used his handkerchief-" the "-he brushed some grains from his shirtfrill-Marquis de Toujours-Vert" --he returned his snuff-box to his pocket.

"Mon Dieu !" I exclaimed, starting back. "You the Marquis! then you are my grandfather!"

"I enjoy that honour also," replied the Marquis, with a bow.

At any other time I should have embraced with rapture a relation so amiable and respectable. But nowit was horrible-Ninon seemed at once already hopelessly separated from me by this untoward discovery, and the Grand Cordon of the Bonnes Fortunes was receding to an immeasurable distance. The Marquis remained silent.

"Permit me, M. le Marquis," I said, at length recovering myself, "to inform you, that to profess yourself my friend, and to make yourself master of my most cherished secrets, merely to frustrate them, is a course alike unworthy of a man of honour and of a grandfather."

"Listen," said my grandfather, with imperturbable coolness. "You

are decidedly in error. Permit me the honour of explaining."

He took a pinch of snuff.

"I was struck last evening," he proceeded, "by something in your appearance-probably a family likeness-asked Monte-Cristo who you were-recognised our relationshipand with a curiosity to study the family type in the latest generation, I desired Monte-Cristo to present you; but I desired him, at the same time, to introduce me under a feigned name, because it would then be more easy to withdraw from the acquaintance if I should not find you to my taste."

"It was no more than prudent, my grandfather," I remarked.

"My grandson, I did find you to my taste. The only emotion of any kind that I have felt for the last quarter of a century was excited by finding in you a renewal of my own youth.-Sacred season!" said my grandfather, lifting his eyes filled with tears towards heaven, "when beauty is the only divinity, when woman feigns to fly and we pursue, and when we dream not of the dreary desert of old age which awaits us at the end of this flowery labyrinth, where nymphs lie hid in roses!"

I was profoundly affected by the desolation of his tone.

"I feel for you, my grandfather," I said. Accept my tenderest sympathy."

"My conversation with you," resumed my grandfather, "suggested to me a new and refined idea-the only one that has visited me for a great number of years; for age, my grandson, does not originate ideas, but only recalls those which the warmth of youth formerly inspired. I said to myself-I no longer enjoy anything worthy of the name of existence, but here is one who does. At his age I wanted but one thing to make my existence perfect-experience. I now have experience, when it is no longer of use to me. Let me join my experience to his youth, and thus realise the ideal of perfection."

It was a sublime thought. I looked at my grandfather with new sentiments of respect and gratitude.

"Accordingly, I wrote last night to your father to pave the way to

a reconciliation. This morning at breakfast I was about to declare myself, and to offer my aid in advancing you in the Order-and, between us, what might we not have achieved, your ardour and audacity directed by my coolness and experience? Great heavens!" said my grandfather, in a burst of feeling, "the prospect was ravishing."

"Was ravishing? my grandfather," I said, with melancholy tenderness. "I say was," repeated the Marquis, for the prospect exists no longer. It was for ever destroyed when you revealed to me the passion you entertained for Madame de Toujours-Vert."

"And which I still entertain," I exclaimed. "Never will I relinquish the hope that she has inspired me with."

"Had it been the wife of any body else," said the Marquis, "you might have commanded me. It is not that I am jealous," he continued, waving his hand loftily; "for about thirty years Madame de ToujoursVert and I have been merely friends -nothing more. But when you mentioned her name, you dissipated in a moment that dream of my old age of which I have spoken, because you threatened my honour."

For this man, so cold and impassible-who had felt for me a solitary emotion of regard-who had destined me to assist him in realising the vision that was to cheer the evening of his days, and whose hopes were blighted in their birth-I felt a profound commiseration.

Choose!" he said, authoritatively, yet courteously.

I took the one next me; he lifted the other.

"One moment," he said. brace me, my grandson."

"Em

I threw myself on his bosom. "So much for relationship," said my grandfather, recovering from his temporary emotion; "it remains to satisfy honour. As we have no seconds to give the word, we will place ourselves back to back in the centre of the room, step out together, and, on reaching the walls, turn and fire.

I assented. I placed myself with my back against his. I felt the calves of his ancestral legs touching mine, and I remember that their hardness suggested the idea that they were false. I was about to say I was ready, when I dropped my pistol, and, in suddenly stooping to recover it, communicated an impulse to the Marquis's person which nearly threw him forward on his nose.

"Pardon, M. le Marquis," I said; "deign to accept my regrets."

The Marquis bowed stiffly, and we resumed our position. I cast one glance on my grandmother's portrait

the word was given-we stepped out-and, on reaching the wall, I turned round and levelled my pistol, but as suddenly dropt it; the Marquis did the same; for between us knelt, with hands and eyes upraised to heaven-my father!

"pardon, my son!" he said, repeating the gesture to me.

We approached him; whereupon, rising from his knees, he threw himself first on the Marquis's neck and then on mine.

"How came you here?" I asked him.

"An hour ago I picked this up on the staircase," said my father, drawing a letter from his pocket. It was Ninon's to me of that morning. "The address being the same as mine, I thought I had dropped it-I recognised the handwriting-I knew all I knew your ardour-I knew her beauty. I judged of your constancy by my own-I knew the chivalrous temper of the Marquis-I am here." "Perhaps," said the Marquis, stiffly, "you will now permit us to proceed.'

:

Stay," said my father-"hear me. I admit the necessity of satisfaction. I sympathise with both on the one side" (turning to me) "I see disappointed love; on the other, injured honour. But it is impossible that I can permit the duel to proceed, for by the victory of one party I should lose a father, by that of the other a son. In the former case it would be incumbent on me to take vengeance on the slayer of my parent; in the other, on him who renders me childless. Neither of you, then, has the right to place me in this dilemma.'

"I admit the justice of this reasoning," I said. "But I beg to suggest a method of satisfying the Marquis's honour and of removing your scruples. I will commit suicide."

"Say rather we will commit suicide," said the Marquis, with a lofty air-"I will not be behind you in the sacrifice, and this will terminate all difficulty. There will then be nobody left for your father to take vengeance on."

"I was about to make a proposal," said my father. "When I interrupted the duel, I was not unprepared with an alternative. I could not bear to survive you. Let us therefore all commit suicide together."

I threw myself on the breast of my heroic parent; my grandfather, actuated by a like impulse, simultaneously did the same, and our heads came so sharply in contact as to bring

tears into the eyes of both. We mutually apologised.

"The time for executing the project," said my father, "must be now. The means we must debate on." "Here are still the pistols," said the Marquis.

They would serve for two only, and the third ought to be spared the pang of surviving his relatives," said my father. "We must devise some means of effecting our object simultaneously."

"For my own part, I should much prefer poison," said my grandfather, producing a small phial from his pocket, as being a more quiet and well-bred way of terminating one's existence, and more suitable to my time of life. But unfortunately this dose, which I have long carried about with me, and the effect of which is instantaneous, is only sufficient for one."

My father meditated deeply for a short time.

"I think," he said, "I have devised a plan which shall obviate all scruples and difficulties. M. le Marquis, may I be permitted to ask for some cord?"

The Marquis jerked down a bellrope and handed it to him. My father, standing on a table, passed the small end through a hook which supported the chandelier, drew it through to the tassel, and made a noose in the lower end. While he was doing this, a servant, summoned by the bell which had rung when the Marquis pulled down the bell-rope, entered.

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"Depart!" thundered the Marquis. "Stay," said my father; have the goodness to fetch me some cord and a spoon."

The servant brought them, and again disappeared. My father fastened the cord by the middle to the tassel of the bell-rope, which he drew back a little way through the hook. Then pouring my grandfather's dose of poison into the spoon, he balanced the latter across the back of a book close to the edge of the table. He attached one of the ends of the cord which he had tied to the bell-rope to the handle of the spoon, and the other to the

trigger of one of the pistols, which he then handed to me.' "Observe," said my father, after

completing these preliminaries, which we watched with silent interest, "I shall kneel on the table with the noose round my neck, balancing myself on the edge. I say kneel, for in that posture, before the picture of my mother, I wish to quit the world." "I also will kneel before the Marquise's picture," said the Marquis. "I also," I said, "will kneel before the picture of Ninon."

"The attitude will suit admirably," said my father, much pleased with the arrangement. "I will then, as I have said, kneel on the edge of the table, having the noose round my neck, so that a slight pull will bring me down. You shall each grasp one of my coat-tails and pull me over: as I fall, the bell-rope will run up with my weight, and will tighten the cords, the one of which will discharge the pistol, my son, into your breast, while the other will upset the poison into the mouth of the Marquis, held underneath it for that purpose.

"It is sublime," I said, lost in admiration. "Thus no one will kill any one, yet each will kill all. We shall join in one grand simultaneous immolation."

"Decidedly," said my grandfather, as soon as he realised this astonishing conception-"decidedly it ought to make a sensation. It must be the suicide of the day-nay more, of the age." My father's preparations were soon made. He arranged the noose on his neck, and knelt on the edge of the table. I, also kneeling, grasped the pistol, which I had placed on fullcock, and which I now directed at

my breast. My grandfather knelt with open mouth beneath the fatal spoon. It was a touching spectacle, if there had been anybody to witness it. Three generations of the ToujoursVerts awaiting death on their knees, with their eyes fixed on the countenance that looked down on them with its unpitying_smile. In that supreme moment I glanced at my father-he was firm as adamant.

"Take hold of my coat-tails," he said, in his usual manner, and with no more tremor than if he had been addressing his tailor.

My grandfather and I, stretching out our hands, seized those parts of his dress, and awaited the signal.

In that instant, while my father

finally settled his noose, the thoughts of the two loadstars of my young existence shot across my mind. "Adieu, Ninon!" I said; "Adieu, Angélique!"

"Ha!" said my grandfather, taking his mouth from the spoon "Angélique, you say that reminds me I cannot commit suicide to day it is impossible," he added, rising from his knees; "and if I can't, of course you can't either."

I uncocked the pistol and placed it on the table. My father reluctantly undid the noose and descended from the table. We both awaited my grandfather's explanation.

"It is a great pity not to do it," said the Marquis, glancing regretfully at the bell-rope and its dependencies. "It was a neat and most admirable arrangement."

My father was unmollified even by this tribute to his mechanical genius. "We have missed an eternity of fame," he said, gloomily. "But I have done my part towards the settlement of this matter. I now await explanation."

"The fact is," said my grandfather, "that Auguste's exclamation reminded me of an engagement I am under to visit to-morrow a lady named Angélique. She has inspired me with the most ardent affection I have felt for many years-she does me the honour to return it: it would be an insult to the sex, and a blot upon my name, if I destroyed myself without discharging that obligation. At this hour to-morrow I must positively be in the Rue d'Antin."

"The Rue d'Antin!" I exclaimed, "and to visit Angélique! Tell me, I beseech you, her other name?"

"Papillon," said the Marquis-"Angélique Papillon."

"Heaven is just!" I exclaimed. ""Tis the same I told you of that I brought off from a convent."

"It appears, my grandson," said the Marquis, "that we have been playing a game of chess in the dark."

"And have given check to each other's queens," said my father."

"My grandson," said the Marquis presently, "I wish you would give up this fancy for the Marquise."

"My grandfather," I replied, "I have shown that I am ready to die first."