362 .THE WATCH-TOWER OF KOAT-VEN. 



phius, was presented to the Count cle Vaudrey. "I am the bearer 

 of a letter on the part of a duchess who my brother tells me is re- 

 cently dead," said Rumphius, as soon as the introductory salutations 

 were past. 



" What ! dead ! What duchess is dead ?" cried Henry. " A Spa- 

 nish duchess, who resided near St. Renau." " Do you know what you 

 are saying, Rumphius?'' enquired the count, eagerly. " It cannot be ! 

 It is impossible I" " It is indeed true,'' answered Rumphius ; ** the 

 funeral was magnificent; money was distributed profusely among 

 the poor, and the curate of Renan, an intimate friend of mine, ad- 

 ministered the last offices to the dying lady." " Good God !" cried 

 Henry, " I am convinced she loved me. Her devotion, her offers, 

 her despair, all proved too clearly ; and, to reward her love, I have 

 brought destruction upon her.'' He burst the seal of the letter, which 

 he yet contemplated with horror, and read its contents. The charac- 

 ters were in the commencement plain and legible; towards the close 

 they had lost their form, and became so confused that it was evident 

 that the duchess must have been dying when the pen fell from her 

 hand. 



" Henry, I have deceived you ; all that was said of me is true. 

 Can you pardon me ? I have had lovers, and you are not the cause 

 of my death. My only wish in this world is to confess my guilt to you, 

 but I feared that the time would not be granted. I feel the hand of 

 death ; my head scarcely supplies me with ideas to express myself; 

 my tears have been incessant. You have no part in my death; I 

 alone am culpable. Alas ! I have willed it so, and you are innocent. 

 Do not regret me, for I have indeed deserved the hard fate which 

 you have prepared for me. Adieu '. Adieu ! My sight fails, my 

 hand stiffens ; Henry, adieu !" Some illegible lines followed, but it 

 was impossible to decypher them. In a note at the bottom of the 

 page, which showed the discolouration produced by many tears, was 

 written, in another hand, " Died October 13th, at two minutes after 

 three in the morning." 



" My dear Rumphius," said Henry, after a long silence, " I would 

 be alone ; you must excuse me." He then threw himself into his 

 chair, while the astronomer, pained by his pupil's sorrow, slowly quit- 

 ted the apartment. After perusing this letter, the count's bitterest 

 reflection was " I was not then her only lover." 



This letter, his best justification both in his own eyes and in those 

 of the world, was to him a source of torment ; for he felt annoyed by 

 the thought that he had no part in the duchess's death. 



" Am I then a woman's dupe *?" repeated Henry, after a pause, 

 while egotism and vanity strove for mastery within his breast. 

 '* Believe thyself dupe,'' whispered Egotism, " and thou wilt sleep 

 peacefully." * " Think thyself a perfidious monster," said Vanity, 

 *' and if thou sleepest not thou wilt find consolation in the assurance 

 that she has embraced death rather than renounce thy love." Vanity 

 was in the right; from that moment Henry considered Rita's letter 

 as a last and unanswerable proof of the passionate and slighted love 

 which had lowered the unfortunate duchess to the grave. 



It is night. Nearly opposite to the Hotel de Vaudrey is a house 



