Let them remember thee, and thanks and praise X. Sing-O, sing! the air is warm, The gale is waiting on the shore Then raise a swelling song through all the land, The ones of old who made us free, THE LIFE AND OPINIONS OF PHILIP YORICK, Esq. At the instant our improvisatore was about to breathe the first line of his fourth stanza, we were surprised by a beautiful apparition, which was no less than the figure of the admirable Egeria herself, who with a reserved and quiet step came into the arbor. We rose to salute her; but our eccentric friend, Frank, seemed to be on a sudden struck dumb with the sight, so perfect and powerful was the impression of her presence. Clementine rose with an impassioned air, and invited the lady to sit with us, to which proposal she acceded after an introduction and a few gracious words between her and ourselves. It would be idle for me to attempt a description of this exquisite piece of divine workmanship; for there was nothing excessive or defective in her manner or person. She was neither slender nor full-fleshed, but the exact medium; her face was neither oval nor square, nor had it any positive trait, except a brilliant complexion. It was impossible for the eye to rest anywhere upon her figure; from the forehead it slid to the eyes; from the eyes to the lips; from thence, in a bewildered modesty, to the bosom. It was equally difficult to meet in all about her an atmosphere of expecher gaze and to refuse it, which created tation and delight. If a face without one regular characteristic, but charged with the most delightful sentiment, can be described—a face, where disease, if it existed, had left no traces, where sorrow had but heightened the sense for joy, and ignorance that described, then can hers be; but I am not of understanding; if such a face can be the person to attempt it. Connect it in your fancy with a figure of the medium height, a well-turned and very fair neck, and a head harmoniously shaped; imagine a mild and well-modulated voice, social, but not familiar, pleasant, but not gay. In short, imagine the ideal woman lation of old age, the angel of infancy, the of your soul, the joy of youth, the consoflower of earth, the testimony of heaven! Steiner put himself quite out of breath in this extravagant description. "Sir," said I," you have spoiled an excellent romance heroine by not leaving her a single defect." True," said he, "I did not think of That is quite another question." It is the disposition of an intellect exhausted by powerful and long-continued emotion to relieve itself on trifles; to satisfy this disposition, I take refuge from poetry and passion in the mathematics-as boys go from Homer to hopscotch. Meanwhile do not interrupt me again, I beg of you good reader, until I am done with this romance which begins to hang heavy on my hands. Where did we leave? At the portrait. Steiner, as I said, maintained a deep silence, as if digesting the ideas I had thrown to him. Presently recollecting himself with a start, he set off again at a good ambling pace. come The amiable Egeria, continued he, addressed herself to my friend. "We have heard of each other often, I am assured," said she, "and that is a reason why it should be difficult for us to beacquainted." Yes," replied Frank," he has sung your praises in my ears, until out of mere weariness, I resolved within myself to expect nothing." "Ah," replied Egeria," that is the way with you, Clement; if there is anything you like, the whole world must hear of it. But I beg, unless you mean to sell me to the highest bidder, you will not so spoil my welcome." That," exclaimed Frank," is impossible! for your worth must always outrun his praises." "I perceive," said the lady, blushing, "that have to deal with very dangerous people. Pray, sir, who is worst of the two, he who praises us to our friends, as though he meant to sell us, or he who lauds us to ourselves, as though he wished to buy us?" Then taking a bracelet from her beautiful arm she put it in my hand, and while a faint embarrassment continued to heighten her complexion and add attraction to her manner-" Perhaps you can tell me," said she, "the name of this stone. I have shown it to several lapidaries, and they profess not to know it." Praising the beauty and rarity of the stone, which was a yellow tourmaline, I held it to the light and read the name, Beaumanoir, with the motto Juvat pietas engraved under the crest. My friend upon hearing this, immediately arose, pale and trembling, and placed himself upon the opposite seat on the left of the lady. Then taking her hand he kissed it fervently, and holding it forcibly within both of his, prevented her from rising. "I beseech you," said he," tell me from whom you had that stone." I had it from my father," she replied, regarding the agitation of the other with astonishment and almost with fear. "Then," said he, embracing her in the tenderest manner, and imprinting a kiss upon her forehead, "all agrees, and you are my sister." "I remember," said she, withdrawing herself from his embraces, "when we fled from the city, my father left my brother, at that time seven years older than myself, in the care of an intimate friend of his, a German gentle man, of your name, sir, (addressing me.) This brother we called Frank. He was fair-haired, and of a melancholy temperament, but I have no recollection of his features. "I will help you," said he weeping, and looking eagerly upon her face. "Do you remember Idyll, among the elms where we lived in summer, and the dog Bounce who killed your squirrel ?” “Ah,” said she, "if you remember that, you are Frank, for we agreed to let no one know of it." So saying she embraced and kissed her brother cordially, and their joy was mutual and equal. When this happy recognition, continued Steiner, had thus restored to each other the divided branches of a generous stock, Clementine indulged in reflections after his manner. "I perceive," said he, "that we three are predestinately united in our love and fortune. For it would be a contempt of Divine Goodness to say that chance wrought out these coincidences. First, it was you, Frank, who inspired me at College with the longing for Wisdom, that is to say, with philosophy; Philosophy brought me into the solitude where I found Egeria. Egeria taught me again to love wisdom, for she is wisdom embodied in sweetness. Again, you restored her to me from the grave, and like a true hero brought my Alcestis to my arms; but before-being the brother of Egeria, as wit is the brother of wisdomyou had brought me back to life, that is, to your sister, and I have requited you by restoring wisdom to wit, that is, your sister to yourself." Say sadness, not wit, if you love me," cried the brother; "for if there is any wit between us it goes to your side; it is a melancholy humor which you take for wit in me, a melancholy born of thinking and sorrow, that wears the cap and bells with a bad grace, and sighs in the delivery of a jest. But come, let us take all things easily, and waste no wonder on our happiness, lest it take the hint and slip away. Now," said he, when we were all seated, Clementine and I on one side of the arbor and the brother and sister on the other, holding each other by the hand,-"let us hear the improvisation." 66 Clementine was silent for a moment, contracted his brows, and shook his head, protesting, that if it were possible, he would continue in the poetical strain, but that the power of the present scene had weakened his fancy, and he should think himself happy to get on with indifferent prose. You left me, said he, among the vineyards of Provence, standing over the ruins of the Chateau Clementine. My meditations were interrupted by the approach of night, and with the darkness came a violent wind from the Alps, which blew furiously into the valley, and drove me into the shelter of a low hovel which served the purpose of an inn or hostelry for muleteers. The inhabitants, like the majority of their class, were mean and miserable, a race of down-trodden serfs, ignorant, and most part wild and vicious. The tenants of the hut, which had but two apartments, were, an old man, who sat constantly over a fire of sticks, shaking with age and ague, a shaggy-haired vine-dresser, his wife, and two sons. They jabbered continually in a patois which I could with difficulty understand (though French is my familiar tongue), and seemed suspicious and fearful. Wishing, if possible, to be on kindly terms with these people, whom I regarded with a peculiar feeling, as the children of those who were the tenants of my ancestors, I took a stool, and sitting by the old man, who seemed to take no notice of anything that passed, I asked him in a low voice if he remembered the name of Clementine. Ah, monsieur!" said he, shaking his head more, which shook of itself, "that was my lord's name, the Marquis: I am very old, you see, and poor, but my lord and madame danced at my wedding, and the lord of Bignon was there too, he that was Mirabeau; his son, they say, brought on the Revolution and liberté." "Did you see him," said I. "Yes," faltered the old man, "I saw the Count. He was just of my age, and the Marquis said to Madame Clementine, Madame, my ugly son, Honoré, (meaning the Count,) desires to dance with you; and madame danced with Honoré, and I saw him kiss her cheek when he thought nobody looked that way. Ah! he was an angel, monsieur, in the skin of a devil. Those were happy times! My lord Marquis Mirabeau gave us money and his blessing. Then, thought we, there will be no acorns eaten this year, but good bread and plenty." · After these words the old man sunk into a profound silence. I waited awhile to observe whether he would speak again, and meanwhile the vine-dresser and his family, who had come about us, stared at us with astonishment. When I inquired the cause of their wonder, which they expressed by signs and exclamations, they assured me that their father had not spoken for more than a year. The vine-dresser inquired what I had done to make him speak. I then told them my name, and that their father, as they called him, had been a tenant of my grandfather's, but the communication had no other effect than to excite exclamations and inquiries. I lay that night on a little loose straw in the corner of the hovel, visited by melancholy visions. About two in the morning the storm abated. Wearied with travel and wakefulness, but unable to win a moment's rest from thought, I arose impatiently, and in rising felt my hand pierced by something sharp among the straw. Feeling carefully for the cause, I touched what seemed to be the clasp of a bracelet, a stone in a metallic setting, the pin of which had inflicted the wound. The brands were still smoking upon the hearth, and I quickly urged them into a flame by my breath. By the dim light of the flame, examining the jewel, I read the name Beaumanoir, engraved upon it, with the motto, Juvat pietas. It was the same which Egeria has upon her wrist, and which was given her by the old woman of the hut by Sallmon lake, as the sole memorial left by her father. You may imagine the effect of this discovery. I called up the vine-dresser without delay, and showing him the stone, made every inquiry regarding it. At length, after a tedious explanation, I learned that a party of four persons, two of which answered the description of Egeria and her governess, had taken refuge from a storm in the hovel about a week before my arrival; that the young lady had fainted through fatigue, and lay for a few moments on the litter, in the very spot where I had made my couch; that the two gentlemen who were with her were extremely attentive, and one in particular turned pale and cried out when he saw her fall into a swoon; that he was a very handsome man, with black hair, large eyes, and a very haughty manner--they took him to be English; that Englishmen very often came that way; that, finally, they knew nothing further, and could not even guess the way the party had gone. I hurried to the village, and made every inquiry. A party, answering to the vine-dresser's description, were lodged at some distance from the village, at the house of a farmer, where they had been above a fortnight. The road thither Jay among wild and unfrequented places, winding along the sides of rounded eminences, whose soil had been carried away into the hollows by rain, leaving them barren and almost devoid of vegetation. I had walked by this road, it may have been half an hour or less, for the minutes appeared cruelly lengthened, when on a sudden it made a turn and entered a cultivated farm, divided by walls of stone and hedges, in the English fashion. The road became green and smooth, and had tufts of bushes on either side. At a lit tle distance before me I saw two persons walking, one a man whom I had remembered to have seen, but where or when it was impossible to recollect; the other a woman very gorgeously dressed, whose air and voice, for I was near enough to hear their laughter and conversation, reminded me of the governess. I passed them and turned, but they did not recognize me ;-a profusion of hair and beard, a foreign dress, and a complexion darkened by travel, proved an effectual disguise. I carried in my hand an oaken stick which had come with me from Paris, and was almost grown to the arm that held it. A knapsack, which in my agitation I had forgotten to lay aside at the inn, bent my shoulders. A pair of hide shoes, stout corduroys, and a leathern hunting-coat of Kentucky make, added whatever of uncouthness was necessary to perfect disguise. Clementine paused an instant at this point; then drawing a deep breath, he resumed, as follows: I would have spoken to the governess, but extreme agitation prevented the utterance of a syllable. A hundred yards farther on, the road terminated at a stile, and beyond was a vineyard with an English cottage in the midst. Such was my agitation, I did not at first see the figures of two persons before me, on the right, half concealed by a clump of bushes. My eyes were for an instant darkened as by a veil, my ears rang, and a tremulous fire swept through my limbs; "yet why this agitation," thought I; "if it should be she you seek, this faintness and passion will incapacitate you; if it be a stranger, then how absurd the anxiety!" I passed on, and overtook them; the lady leaned upon the arm of a stranger, who I thought was an Englishman, perhaps a nobleman and a rival; "I will kill him," thought I, and the fury of the tiger for an instant scorched my veins and stretched the tendons of my arms. "Absurd folly! will you suffer your nature to be debased by a suspicion; besides, you do not know whether it be she or not ;" for, indeed, I had not courage to look behind me as I passed them. I went on to the stile, and standing by the wayside, behind a clump of shrubbery, resolved to wait there and observe them as they passed. They came near. They did not see this manœuvre, and came on slowly, conversing. The voice of the stranger was pressing and persuasive. "Tell me," I heard him say, "the reason of your reluctance, and do not be displeased if I call it unreasonable, until I hear a reason." The lady made no reply; but at the instant, as she turned her face away, she saw me; our eyes met,-it was she whom I sought. Clementine buried his face in his hands when he had said this, and for a moment sobbed audibly, so vehement was the memory of that passion. Nor was the lady herself unmoved, though she made the most strenuous efforts to conceal her emotion. But you, Egeria," continued Clementine, looking tenderly at her, "did not know that it was I." "Spare me, sir," she replied, rising with dignity, though not as if offended. "Stay," said her brother, holding her forcibly," you must not go now, Egeria, Clement will not offend us, be sure of that. He is of imagination all compact," said he, laughing so kindly she could not be offended; " and we who are very wise and cool, will suffer nothing by his vagaries." Thereupon, with a gentle pressure, he forced his sister to stay, and Master Clement, though a little ashamed, continued as follows: I suffered them to pass, and turning back upon the road, walked blindly, 1 know not how far: at length, ashamed of my own weakness, I returned, and as fortune would have it, Egeria stood by herself on the hither side of the stile; the others had wandered off; the governess and the Englishman seeming to be in deep consultation, and the other person busy with observing the vineyard. At this moment, said Steiner, the lady slipped away from her brother, and retired, noislessly. Clementine, who did not seem to observe it, being rapt away by imagination, continued in the same strain: |