314 THE NECROMANCER. 



not again. Nicole tenderly loved him rfor she wept bitterly, and 

 vowed she would never marry. 



The neighbours on his disappearance, recollecting his dejected air 

 and moody habits, supposed that he had made away with himself; 

 Nicole trembled at the very idea a suicide ! one whom she had loved 

 so dearly she could not believe it; and yet, could she have known 

 the truth, she would have found that the fear of an hereafter had 

 alone withheld the poniard from his bosom devotion had that once 

 saved him from despair. 



It was on the first of May, 1465, that Mande once more entered 

 Paris ; he had been absent five years. The thought of Nicole still 

 haunted him, and he longed to see her bright angelic face once more, 

 for he had returned, from over the sea, to worship at the shrine of 

 his first love. He had retained his residence near Mpntmartre, and 

 trembling, he directed his steps thither, he-was obliged to traverse 

 the quarter of the Holies to reach it and, had made a detour to 

 avoid the Place de Greve, so hateful to him. He was just entering 

 La Rue de Garnelles, when the sound of music attracted his attention, 

 and he perceived a crowd of people approaching. He made some 

 inquiries of a bystander, who told him that it was a marriage, the 

 nuptials of the son of Henry Cousin, the executioner of Paris, and 

 of the daughter of Merry Capiluche, the retired executioner of the 

 city of Rouen. " A splendid and well-assorted match, truly, Sir 

 stranger," said the man with a grin. Mande shuddered at the words 

 spoken so lightly, but with such awful meaning to himself. The 

 fatal words rung in his ears as plainly as on the night of his carousal. 

 He had long since become convinced of their truth, and with gloomy 

 tranquillity he awaited his time. The idea had become his faith 

 his creed the very breath of his life so powerfully was he 

 absorbed in his belief, that he no longer wrestled with it no longer 

 endeavoured to shake off the delusion which had assumed to his 

 diseased imagination all the circumstance of reality. It even 

 impelled him onwards, and, by a mysterious and invisible influence, 

 urged him to anticipate its fulfilment. 



He walked onwards; the mirth and gaiety of the crowd was 

 sickening to him ; he wished to avoid the people, but the procession 

 was close upon him, and he stood to see it pass. The bride and bride- 

 groom were returning from the nuptial benediction, greeted by the 

 plaudits of the populace. Mande cast a hurried glance at the prin- 

 cipal personage of the pageant, when, instead of turning with his 

 usual disgust at any thing like rejoicing, his gaze became fixed, his 

 eyes were rivetted upon that face. The blood forsook his counte- 

 nance, his lips quivered, he covered his face with his hands, and 

 looked again, as one bewildered. Good God ! was it an apparition ! 

 or was it a dreadful reality ? It was too true, the beautiful the 

 adored Nicole was there before him, the daughter and wife of an 

 executioner ! He staggered against the wall for support. Yes, then 

 she was more beautiful than when he first saw her the only bright 

 gleam in his dark and troubled day of life. It was all over; if in his 

 hours of reflection he might have entertained some doubts of the 

 horrible fate that hung over him, they had vanished at a single 

 glance. 



