forlorn! When in some French, romance
she met with a young man of twenty, of a
noble character and handsome appearance, she
bestowed on him the name of Leon. The
recollection of the kiss he had given her
ever brought a burning blush to her cheek,
and made her sigh deeply.

One day Leon came to his sister's room.
Anielka was there, seated in a corner at work.
Leon himself had considerably changed; from
a boy he had grown into a man. "I suppose
Constantia," he said, "you have been told
what a good boy I am, and with what docility
I shall submit myself to the matrimonial
yoke, which the Count and Countess have
provided for me?" and he began whistling,
and danced some steps of the Mazurka.

"Perhaps you will be refused," said
Constantia coldly.

"Refused! Oh, no. The old Prince has
already given his consent, and as for his
daughter, she is desperately in love with me.
Look at these moustachios, could anything be
more irresistible?" and he glanced in the glass
and twirled them round his fingers; then
continuing in a graver tone, he said, "To tell
the sober truth, I cannot say that I reciprocate.
My intended is not at all to my taste.
She is nearly thirty, and so thin that whenever
I look at her, I am reminded of my
old tutor's anatomical sketches. But, thanks
to her Parisian dress-maker, she makes up
a tolerably good figure, and looks well in a
Cachemere. Of all things, you know, I wished
for a wife with an imposing appearance, and I
don't care about love. I find it's not fashionable,
and only exists in the exalted
imagination of poets."

"Surely people are in love with one another
sometimes," said the sister.

"Sometimes," repeated Anielka, inaudibly.
The dialogue had painfully affected her, and
she knew not why. Her heart beat quickly,
and her face was flushed, and made her look
more lovely than ever.

"Perhaps. Of course we profess to adore
every pretty woman," Leon added abruptly.
"But, my dear sister, what a charming ladies'
maid you have!" He approached the corner
where Anielka sat, and bent on her a coarse
familiar smile. Anielka, although a serf, was
displeased, and returned it with a glance full
of dignity. But when her eyes rested on
the youth's handsome face, a feeling, which
had been gradually and silently growing in
her young and inexperienced heart,
predominated over her pride and displeasure. She
wished ardently to recal herself to Leon's
memory, and half unconsciously raised her
hand to the little purse which always hung
round her neck. She took from it the rouble
he had given her.

"See!" shouted Leon, "what a droll girl;
how proud she is of her riches! Why, girl,
you are a woman of fortune, mistress of a
whole rouble!"

"I hope she came by it honestly," said
the old Countess, who at this moment
entered.

At this insinuation, shame and indignation
kept Anielka, for a time, silent. She replaced
the money quickly in its purse, with the bitter
thought that the few happy moments which
had been so indelibly stamped upon her
memory, had been utterly forgotten by Leon.
To clear herself, she at last stammered out,
seeing they all looked at her enquiringly, "Do
you not remember, M. Leon, that you gave me
this coin two years ago in the garden?"

"How odd!" exclaimed Leon, laughing,
"do you expect me to remember all the pretty
girls to whom I have given money? But I
suppose you are right, or you would not have
treasured up this unfortunate rouble as if it
were a holy relic. You should not be a miser,
child; money is made to be spent."

"Pray, put an end to these jokes," said
Constantia impatiently; " I like this girl, and
I will not have her teased. She understands
my ways better than any one, and often puts
me in good humour with her beautiful voice."

"Sing something for me, pretty damsel,"
said Leon, "and I will give you another
rouble, a new and shining one."

"Sing instantly," said Constantia
imperiously.

At this command Anielka could no longer
stifle her grief; she covered her face with her
hands, and wept violently.

"Why do you cry?" asked her mistress
impatiently; "I cannot bear it; I desire you
to do as you are bid."

It might have been from the constant
habit of slavish obedience, or a strong feeling
of pride, but Anielka instantly ceased weeping.
There was a moment's pause, during which
the old Countess went grumbling out of the
room. Anielka chose the Hymn to the
Virgin she had warbled in the garden, and as
she sung, she prayed fervently;—she prayed
for peace, for deliverance from the acute
emotions which had been aroused within her. Her
earnestness gave an intensity of expression
to the melody, which affected her listeners.
They were silent for some moments after its
conclusion. Leon walked up and down with
his arms folded on his breast. Was it
agitated with pity for the accomplished young
slave? or by any other tender emotion?
What followed will show.

"My dear Constantia," he said, suddenly
stopping before his sister and kissing her
hand, "will you do me a favour?"

Constantia looked enquiringly in her
brother's face without speaking.

"Give me this girl."

"Impossible!"

"I am quite in earnest," continued Leon,
"I wish to offer her to my future wife. In
the Prince her father's private chapel they
are much in want of a solo soprano."

"I shall not give her to you," said
Constantia.

"Not as a free gift, but in exchange. I will