give you instead a charming young negro—
so black. The women in St. Petersburg and
in Paris raved about him: but I was inexorable;
I half-refused him to my princess."

"No, no," replied Constantia; "I shall be
lonely without this girl, I am so used to her."

"Nonsense! you can get peasant girls by
the dozen; but a black page, with teeth
whiter than ivory, and purer than pearls; a
perfect original in his way; you surely cannot
withstand. You will kill half the province
with envy. A negro servant is the most
fashionable thing going, and yours will be the
first imported into the province."

This argument was irresistible. "Well,"
replied Constantia, "when do you think of
taking her?"

"Immediately; to-day at five o'clock," said
Leon; and he went merrily out of the
room. This then was the result of his
cogitation—of Anielka's Hymn to the Virgin.
Constantia ordered Anielka to prepare
herself for the journey, with as little emotion as
if she had exchanged away a lap-dog, or
parted with a parrot.

She obeyed in silence. Her heart was full.
She went into the garden that she might
relieve herself by weeping unseen. With one
hand supporting her burning head, and the
other pressed tightly against her heart, to
stifle her sobs, she wandered on mechanically
till she found herself by the side of the river.
She felt quickly for her purse, intending to
throw the rouble into the water, but as quickly
thrust it back again, for she could not bear to
part with the treasure. She felt as if without
it she would be still more an orphan. Weeping
bitterly, she leaned against the tree which
had once before witnessed her tears.

By degrees the stormy passion within her
gave place to calm reflection. This day she
was to go away; she was to dwell beneath
another roof, to serve another mistress.
Humiliation! always humiliation! But at least
it would be some change in her life. As she
thought of this, she returned hastily to the
palace that she might not, on the last day of
her servitude, incur the anger of her young
mistress.

Scarcely was Anielka attired in her
prettiest dress, when Constantia came to her
with a little box, from which she took several
gay-coloured ribbons, and decked her in them
herself, that the serf might do her credit in
the new family. And when Anielka, bending
down to her feet, thanked her, Constantia,
with marvellous condescension, kissed her on
her forehead. Even Leon cast an admiring
glance upon her. His servant soon after came
to conduct her to the carriage, and showing
her where to seat herself, they rolled off
quickly towards Radapol.

For the first time in her life Anielka rode
in a carriage. Her head turned quite giddy,
she could not look at the trees and fields as
they flew past her; but by degrees she became
more accustomed to it, and the fresh air
enlivening her spirits, she performed the rest of
the journey in a tolerably happy state of mind.
At last they arrived in the spacious courtyard
before the Palace of Radapol, the dwelling
of a once rich and powerful Polish family,
now partly in ruin. It was evident, even
to Anielka, that the marriage was one for
money on the one side, and for rank on the
other.

Among other renovations at the castle,
occasioned by the approaching marriage, the
owner of it, Prince Pelazia, had obtained
singers for the chapel, and had engaged Signor
Justiniani, an Italian, as chapel-master.
Immediately on Leon's arrival, Anielka was
presented to him. He made her sing a scale,
and pronounced her voice to be excellent.

Anielka found that, in Radapol, she was
treated with a little more consideration than
at Olgogrod, although she had often to submit
to the caprices of her new mistress, and she
found less time to read. But to console
herself, she gave all her attention to singing,
which she practised several hours a day. Her
naturally great capacity, under the guidance
of the Italian, began to develope itself steadily.
Besides sacred, he taught her operatic music.
On one occasion Anielka sung an aria in so
impassioned and masterly a style, that the
enraptured Justiniani clapped his hands for
joy, skipped about the room, and not finding
words enough to praise her, exclaimed several
times, "Prima Donna! Prima Donna!"

But the lessons were interrupted. The
Princess's wedding-day was fixed upon, after
which event she and Leon were to go to
Florence, and Anielka was to accompany
them. Alas! feelings which gave her poignant
misery still clung to her. She despised
herself for her weakness; but she loved Leon.
The sentiment was too deeply implanted in
her bosom to be eradicated; too strong to be
resisted. It was the first love of a young and
guileless heart, and had grown in silence and
despair.

Anielka was most anxious to know
something of her adopted parents. Once, after the
old prince had heard her singing, he asked
her with great kindness about her home.
She replied, that she was an orphan, and had
been taken by force from those who had so
kindly supplied the place of parents. Her
apparent attachment to the old bee-keeper
and his wife so pleased the prince, that he
said, "You are a good child, Anielka, and
tomorrow I will send you to visit them. You
shall take them some presents."

Anielka, overpowered with gratitude, threw
herself at the feet of the prince. She dreamed
all night of the happiness that was in store for
her, and the joy of the poor, forsaken, old
people; and when the next morning she set
off, she could scarcely restrain her impatience.
At last they approached the cabin; she saw
the forest, with its tall trees, and the meadows
covered with flowers. She leaped from the
carriage, that she might be nearer these trees