Life's discipline
page: (TitlePage) [View Page (TitlePage) ]LIFE'S DISCIPLINE: rAL1E OF THE ANNALS OF HUNGARY. BY TALVI, AUTHOR OF "HELOISE3"ET0. He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.... *- no man condemned thee . . . Neither do I condemn thee; go, and sin no more."--JoN viii. 7,11. NEW-YORK: APPLETON & CO., 200 BROADWAY. PHLADELPHA: GEO. S. APPLETON, 164 CHESNUT-ST. M DCCC LI. page: (Table of Contents) [View Page (Table of Contents) ] ENTBRBD, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by D. APPLETON & COMPANY, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New York. CONTENTS. CHAPTER L Introduction . . . . . CHAPTER II. A Retrospect .. 29 CHAPTER H. A Malcontent ...... . 4 CHAPTER IV. The Tempter .....64 CHAPTER V. Parting . . . . .82 CHAPTER VI. A Discovery . . . . . . 98 CHAPTER VII., The Fruits of an Error . 113 ', CHAPTER VIII., Historical . . . . . . 126 CHAPTER IX. A Message . . . 189 CHAPTER X. Conclusion . . . . . . . . 166 page: [View Page ] HUMAN WEAKNESS. CHAPTER ]2 INTRODUCTION. THE bloody scenes which recently have directed the sympathizing -attention of all Europe to the kingdom of Hungary, were by no means isolated features of her history, or the independent results of certain despotic deeds; they oirorlmed the concluding act of thegreat trageur ingthe-last three centuries, has beenln. that doomed soil., It is true that evQen 'iefoie: , the battle of Mohacz, after which. an Austrian prince, in his capacity of brother-in-law to the unhappy Lewis II., laid the first claim to the Apostolic crown, Hungary had almost inces- santly been the theatre of bloody warfare, and, page: 6-7[View Page 6-7] 6 HUMAN WEAKNESS. only too often, of domestic dissensions. In the middle ages, however, she had only shared this fate with all other countries of Europe; and since the settlement of the Infidels in her imme- diate neighborhood, and the foundation of an Osmanic empire on her very borders, she had played the glorious part of the champion of all Christendom, and defended, with streams of her most precious blood, the barriers of civilization against the common enemy. Only with the reign of the house of Austria a regular system of domestic oppression commenced; an under- mining of national institutions, which, faulty is they may have been, were grown into the very bone and marrow of the people. If in the be- ginning, and during certain periods afterwards, the process was but slow and little offensive, it was only that other interests dictated modera- tion, or that the danger of losing the whole made a delicate handling of its parts absolutely neces- sary. The pernicious influence of all the different relations of civil intercourse and domestic life HUMAN WEAKNESS. 7 exercised by the constant warfare with the Turks, by the dissensions between the two great reli- gious parties, and by the oppressive measures of the government, which, directly against the solemn elective compact, spread hireling troops, composed of the scum of all nations, over the whole kingdom, most numerous in those parts where no external enemy threatened danger, had reached its summit in the middle of they seventeenth century. The sparing seeds of civ- ilization which the great Matthias Corvinnis and some of his predecessors had sown, promised a rich crop. Hungarian literature, especially her poetry, flourished during the sixteenth century, and kept up a respectable, strictly national ap- pearance during the first half of the following, until, with the victory of the Roman religion, the vernacular language was superseded by the Latin, which was favored by the Catholic clergy. The same deluge of tastelessness, corruption, and shallowness, which at that time overflowed Ger- many, drowned also the language of Hungary, her literature, and her national civilization; and page: 8-9[View Page 8-9] 8 HUM A, W RAKTESS. although'the corrupting and .demoralizing in- fluence came from different sources-in Germa- ny from the more refined, but 'internally rotten0 condition of France, and the base 'and treache- rous conduct of her rulers; in Hungary from an intruding barbarism, and the habit - of a -lawless and arbitrary state of things-the degrading, en- ervating result was not dissimilar. In this period of general dissolution lies the domestic scene which we wish to present to the reader in the following tale, as in some measure characteristic of its country, and,bearing fully the stamp of its time. In the year 1678, while intestine wars were still lacerating the whole kingdom, a rich noble- man of Presburg, -named Andreas Opray, who had already completed his sixty-fifth year, cele- brated his marriage with a beautiful girl of seven- teen. The poverty and avarice of her parents had yielded the young victim to him. On the wedding-day, while the old bridegroom was rev- -elling in the midst of his boon companions, the poor), pale young-creature, with a heavy heart, HUMAN WEAKNESS. v 9 escaped for one single unwatched moment fromn the circle of gossiping godmothers and blushing, tittering bridesmaids. Craving for one, only one instant of solitude, -she stepped to the, window to hide herself and her misery be- hind the thick damask curtains. There she stood, in silent, despairing resignation, and her tearful eyes gazed out upon the busy street, where all that moved to and fro were happier- than she. At this moment young Ferdinand Szentirany rode by, in the splendid uniform of his regiment, and cast at her a glance so tender and mournful, that none but a deeply offended heart could have turned awAy with:the bitter, cold contempt with, which the bride now did so; not, howeveri un- til her eyes had darted, through the tears that fill- ed them, one ray of anger upon the handsome rider. Until the night before, poor Mary had& hoped that -he would save her; he who had so often sworn, with a thousand vows, that he- would never desert her, Now, all-was over. Now she page: 10-11[View Page 10-11] 10 HUMAN WEAKNESS. knew it: he had never loved her. -He was a faint-hearted, selfish man. He had wished to kill time by amorous trifling, but he dared not take a courageous step towards possessing her. She believed that she despised him deeply; and it gave her a sort of satisfaction to have shown it to him, at least by a look. A week after the wedding, when at last the cessation of those odious ceremonies and noisy festivals, which were at that time necessarily con- nected with the marriage of a Hungarian noble- man, allowed poor Mary some rest, she retired to her chamber, where a bright fire was burning, locked the door, and opened, with a resolute hand,' a drawer of the plain little chest which stood in the corner, in singular contrast to the splendor of the apartment. It was the only piece of furniture which she had brought into -her husband's house. She took out a little par- cel and hastily tore apart the pink satin ribbon with which it w-as tied-; a number of elegantly painted gilt-edged papers fell in her lap: they were the love-letters--most of them in the Italian HUMAN WRA ESS. " language, and in the form ofsonnetswhich she had received from the traitor. Then she opened another little parcel, wrapped in a perfumed paper, the odor of which diffused itself in volup- tuous reminiscence through the chamber. It was the rosary- by which he had first declared his passionj though not before his eyes had al- ready spoken a bolder and more eloquent lan. guage. It was not an ordinary rosary: a skilful hand had distributed on its several beads, with delicately carved letters, the different words of the most tender declaration. When, one day during mass--while the splen- did youth knelt, as usual, by her side-confused by his glances, she had dropped her rosary, he appeared to snatch it up adroitly and politely; but she immediately perceived that the one he handed to her was not hers, and remarked, by a side glance, that he pressed to ]his lips the one which he had taken up. At home, in her solita- ry chamber, she at first tried in vain to decipher the verses. The language was unknown to her; but her heart, and the Latin tongue, which she page: 12-13[View Page 12-13] 12 HUMAN WEAKNESS. had heardter father use in conversation with his friends, soon taught her the meaning. By de- grees, love made her familiar with a language which at that time, and particularly in those parts of the country, was almost the only one of elegant discourse and poetry, and she soon was far enough advanced to understand all the ten- der epistles of Ferdinand, whether they were in prose or in poetry; nay, she even -undertook from time to time to answer them likewise in Italian, though only by a few cordial words. All these letters, all the sketches of her an- swers, and many other little tokens -of remem- brance, she now destroyed, amid scalding tears, but with decision; and if her hand sometimes movecd involuntarily towards her lips with one or the other sweet pledge, it was immediately snatched away, and the token thrown into the fire. Often, during the first months of her mar- riage, did she think of all the bitter and reproach- ing things, which she would say to him, if acci- dent should ever throw them together again. HUMAN WEAKNESS- . But she did not see him again after her wedding- day. He left Presburg, to commence, in the suite of his uncle, a powerful magnate, a splendid ca- reer at the imperial court, She herself soon af- ter removed with her husband to his estates on the Moravian frontier. When the Turks and Count Theokeoli's troops filled that part of the country, Opray and his young wife sought re- fuge from the enemy, now in one, now in ano- ther castle, without however being able to evade them entirely. But wherever they might be, young Mary spent melancholy days by the side of the peevish, sickly old man. Endowed by na- ture with her best gifts, entitled to a thousand claims on life, her heart was yet too good and af- fectionate to find, in the deep solitude to which- her husband's jealousy condemned her, consola- tion in the one hope of being, at some future time, and perhaps soon, in the possession of a con- siderable property, and able to enjoy it freely. Accustomed to submission, and naturally-gentle, she learned by degrees to reconcile herself to the moody caprices of her husband, became fond of page: 14-15[View Page 14-15] " HUMAN W ARNESS. him, and administered as much as she was able to his comfort. It was, moreover, a time when a young and beautiful woman could well consider herself fortu- nate in enjoying the protection of a -man honored for age and rank. The country was agitated by violent storms of war, that seemed to have torn down all the barriers which, in the course of centuries, laws and customs had erected for the protection of the weak. One hundred and fifty years the house of Austria had already reigned in Hungary, -but it had not yet suc- X, ceeded in winning the hearts of the inhabitants. The nation, that is, the nobility and tife clergy, continued to think themselves obliged to be at variance with the government; and even when, to- wards the close of the sixteenth century, the new religious sect, which was more and more rapidly spreading, brought the church and the arch-ducal house -to a sort-of union, the:latter neither ceased its endeavors to restrict the clergy, as being too highly favored, nor the former to guard closely its prescriptive rights. Thus, also, it was only when HUMAN -WRAKNESS. 15 the object was to guard against the general dis- tress which the Infidels again and again brought over the land, that the government found the nobility willing and of the same mind. But in all attempts against the constitution, it met with open defiance or disguised opposition. It had already been the favorite wish of Ferdinand I. to incorporate the free elective state with his empire; he even, without much ado, plainly de- clared it a hereditary kingdom; but his war with the Zapolyas and the Turks occupied his forces too much, and made the attachment of his people too precious to him, to allow him to take other than unimportant steps towards this aim. tHe was, therefore, satisfied to see his son Maxi- milian chosen as his successor, while he was yet living. The latter brought about the election of his son Rudolph in the same rnanner, under whose long reign the empire was 'at the same time the scene of the most terrible double war between Turks andc Hungarians, imperial hire- lings and Protestants, and-the more secret strug- gle between ruler and people, for the rights of page: 16-17[View Page 16-17] 16- HUMAN W BATESS, the latter. Still more secretly did the emperor Matthias seek to undermine the freedom of elec- tion in the empire. Indeed, it looks almost like an empty accusation when some assert -that he, who outwardly -honored every point of the con- stitution, had, by first craftily sowing the seed of dissension in Transylvania,: and then playing the part of mediator, intended to gain a firm footing there, so that, by the possession of Aus- tria and Transylvania, he could have Hungary completely in his power. The two Ferdinands, by the Thirty Years' War in: Germany, and that which, through the- princes Bethlem and Ra- coczy, spread over-the whole of Hungary, had no time left them to take any serious steps to- wards the realization of the favorite idea of the arch-ducal house, to reign hereditarily in Hungary. The differences of these two emperors with the people, referred almost entirely to the Protestant religion, the protectors of which were the Tran- sylvanian princes. Ferdinand III. also succeeded in having his two sons, Ferdinand IV. and Leo- pold, successively crowned as Apostolic Kings, HUMANT- WElAr'TE0fi. 17 The most violent attacks on the Hungarian conr stitution occur in the long reign of Leop6old.: This is also the case withthhe sad: and simple tale which we are about to communicate to the kind reader. It is a detached sene, which, per- haps, contains some interest only inasmuch as it refers to the great tragedy in which Hungarian liberty was so bloodily wrecked. The emperor, under divers pretexts, had sent German troops into the country, and thus viola- ted one of the most important conditions, under which the States had ceded the crown to him. Foreign soldiers were not to come into the land but with their consent, and they were to be sub- ordinate to the Palatine; but now it was the fa- mous Montecuculi who was at their head, and before long a great number of :the fortifications were occupied by German garrisons. The diets of Kashau and Presburgihad no fruits but in- creased animosity, and the parties separated with- out having come to any agreement on the prin- cipal points. The Turkish war, which now broke out, seemed for a while to have put an end to all page: 18-19[View Page 18-19] 18 HU IEAN WEAiESS. inward .disunion; ;and when the Imperials, in the year 1664iwon the extraordinary battle of St. Gotthardt, in which nearly the whole of the Os- man army was destroyed, the people were inspir- ed by the hope of at length seeing the-hereditary enemy driven, by an advantageous peace or a continued combat, -from the land, one of the best parts of which he had so long occupied. But how. were they filled with dismay and anger, when, six weeks after the battle of St. Gotthardt, la peace was .declared between the emperor and the Grand Seignior, in which the former seemed to have considered the private interests of his- hwuse alone; in which the- kingdom was barely mentioned, and which left some of the most, im- portant places in the -hands- of the Turks. The Hungarians, who, entirely contrary to the con- stitution, were not informed-of this treaty until after -its ratification, looked upon it as one of the greatest: insults which they- had yet received. And, indeed, it had for them; the saddest conse- quences. The Pashas of Neuhaeusel and Buda required the usual tribute throughout-the whole HTAN WEA KNESS. 19 country, to the Moravian border. -The Austrian courts prohibited the payment of it, without, however, supplying its subjects with the .means of resisting the'power which only left -them the choice between punctual obedience and a cruel death. Permission was requested from court to. send deputies to Constantinople, in order to bring. about a different- relation, by means of pacific negotiations, and the refusal of this per- mission exasperated the Hungarians to such a degree, that they too thought themselves entitled to overstep all limits. They thought that they recognized, Xi' the inactivity of the government,- the intention ,of seeing the enemy's strength for the attack, as well as that of the subjects for resistance against injury, wear itself out- by degrees. The nobles did not cease to levy troops,.put theirstrong-. holds into a state of defence, and a violent-agita- tion was visible everywhere. It is true- that the conduct of the Turks seemed sufficient to- make -these warlike. preparations' necessary.: There was no- end to'skir-mishes 'between them: page: 20-21[View Page 20-21] 20 X ItUfiRUMA WEEAK:rSS. and the -Hungarians, while the imperial soldiers were safely and quietly stationed in their-forts. Indeed, it is almost as incredible as horrible, when Hungarian historians report to us that dur- ing:this bloody peace-which was ended in 1683, by the outhreak of the actual war--at the bounda- ry between Veszprin and Papa alone, sixty thou- sand fallen were counted on each side. Never- theless, the Austrian court interpreted these pre- parations in the worst manner, and were not wrong in-expecting a bloody manifestation of the hatred so imprudently roused. When, there- fore, at the assembled- diets of Presburg and Neusohl, the States at length actually refused to supply the imperial troops, idly stationed in the land, with provisions, and build them new forti- fications, the court saw in this refractoriness trea- son and rebellion. - - -.At this same time--in the-year 1670-an ex- tensive conspiracy. was discovered, the members of which were chiefly oppressed and dissatisfied Protestants, and which was headed by the first; nobles of the kingdom. Nadasdi, Frangipani, HUMAIN WF AWNESS, 21. Zrini, and Tattenbach, were successively execu. ted at Vienna, Neustadt,: and, Graetz, without the States being able to obtain that they should be, according to the constitution, first placed be- fore their tribunal. Their estates were confisca- ted, and the names of several of them destroyed. Other leaders, Racoczy and Ostrosicz, -were par- doned. But; it seemed more necessary than ever to secure all the-strongholds of the Inngdom -by, German garrisons. One by one, the nobles lost courage -for further resistance; the old Count Stephen Theokeoli, alone. refused 'decidedly to surrender his castle, and declared, plainly,: that he had never thought of being unfaitful towards the crown or his Apostolic Majesty,; .no one had a right to attack :him, and if it should be done, he would fall with the justest weapons in i hais nd And he did die, while General. Heister was -be sieging the fort, which was soon: ater surrender- ed. A short time before his death, however, he had brought about the -flight of. his son , Emmie ric, disguised as a peasant;- who, accompanied by several nobles, proceeded to Poland, and- from page: 22-23[View Page 22-23] 22 HUtMAN WT AKWESS. there to the court of Prince Apafi. Several others followed him, and Wallachia, Moldavia, and also Transylvania, were inundated with no- ble Hungarian refugees. It was this conspiracy, and the steps connect- ed with it, by which the House of Austria, for the first time, thought itself entitled to treat its Hungarian subjects as rebels, and Hungary as a conquered country. Severe penalties, and the threat of still greater ones, alarmed the people, and seemed to make them, for a while, more tractable. Meanwhile, however, greater num- bers of the malcontents continued to equip them- selves for the combat, and the young Count Theokeoli placed himself at their head. He in- vaded Hungary, and though continually driven back by the Imperials, and abetted by no foreign power but that of the Prince of Transylvania, the number of his adherents increased daily. In vain the Austrian court used all its power to suppress this new insurrection; for nearly five- years an indecisive, but not the less bloody war was spun on, until a considerable number of HUMAN W- EAKNESS.. 23 troops discharged from Poland, led -by the Mar- quis of Bohan, increased Theokeoli's forces to a degree which enabled them to drive the Impe- rials entirely off the field. . Deeper and deeper the rebels penetrated into the country, and by even touching on the suburbs of Tienna, spread alarm through city and court. The latter, there- fore, left- no means untried to set the malcon- tents at variance among each other, and gain Theokeoli personally to their side. The love which the young count felt for Helena Zrini, the widow. of Franz Racoczy, came to the aid of the pacific negotiations, for he could only hope to win his fair friend with the consent of the court. On the other side, again, the Porte seemed ready to tender a powerful aid; and though at first it had only conceded unauthorized auxiliary for- ces, it now seemed to be preparing for an- open war with Austria. The count was therefore un- decided, and the opinions- of his advisers and friends were more divided than ever. Among the -warmest and most active adhe- rents of the- count at that time were the two page: 24-25[View Page 24-25] 24., HUMAN WEAKNESS. brothers, Barons Barcoczy,- the youngest of whom, Emmeric, plays a prominent and sad part in. our tale. Their ancestors had fought for the new doctrine, and their father, old Stephen Bar-, coCzy, in the reign of Ferdinand III., had paid fdorhis attachment to it, which led him to audible murmurs against the oppressive measures of the ruling powers, on the scaffold. Theoldest son,- bearing the same name as his father, was at that time already a' half-grown youth; the youngest still in the cradle. Seven brothers who stood between them had one by one fallen victims to the plague and the ruinous war, to which, dur- ing the peace with the emperor, .the nation was forced by the Turks. Whpn young Count Theo- keoli escaped from his father's besieged castle, Stephen and fimromeric alone were left: Stephen, with a breast burning- for revenge, full of' the most , passionate. hatred against .the arch-ducal 'hou1se; Ermneric, a boy of fifteen, but vigorous and brave. The brothers, of different tempera- meot and opposite characters, agreed only in their fervent love for each other, and in a mu- HUMAN WEAKNESS. 2. tual hatred against the government, But even this hatred was not of the same kind. True, the 'aversion of both was directed towards the ene- D mies of their house, the murderers of their fa- ther; but while Stephen had his eye on the in- jured rights of the nobility, the manifold viola- tions of the fundamental laws of his country, and, above all, on the personal insults which he had received from the Austrian court--for, on his father's death, already, a part of his estates had been confis cated, and the rest had been taken from him as a member of the above-mentioned conspiracy;-Emmeric, on the other hand, as one of the warmest adherents of the Lutheran religion that his country could boast of, was par- ticularlywincensed against the oppressors of this religion. Both .resolved, without hesitation to follow the count, and during eleven years faith- fully shared joy and sorrow with him. Emmeric, very nearly of an age with Theokeoli, attached himself to the brilliant, spirited young man, with all the blind love of a warm youthful heart; and the count? 9. ' ' ' " " '. -* *'*** "-'* -'** -l A page: 26-27[View Page 26-27] 26 j1HUM WEAKNESS. who was by no means unsusceptible of ten- der feelings, returned his affection in an un- common degree. Willing to recognize Theo- keoli as his king, if instead of the Turks, the people would place him on the throne, Emmeric nevertheless took the liberty to warn him with warmth and zeal against the connection with the Inficels, whom the youth hated still more violently than the emperor and the pope, and a friendship with whom he considered a sin. But in a political view, also, young Barcoczy thought it necessary to advise against such a step, and he foretold, what afterwards really took place, that the hearts of the nation would by degrees turn from the allies of the hereditary enemy of Christendom. Three times did Count *neolkeo- -i make a truce with the Austrian court, and, as we have once before remarked, his heart made him rather inclined to accept the favorable conditions of peace which the emperor held out to him. But whether he had gone too far to recede'in his negotiations with the Porte, or whether his unbounded ambition promised him HUMAN W-EiAKNESS. 27 more advantages in this connection than all that the Austrian court could offer him; enough, he found means, during the third truce, in 1682, to obtain the hand of Princess Racrczy, without having given beforehand a declaration of his sentiments to the court. Shortly after, the war between the emperor and the Porte broke out, and Theokeoli, who had already recommenced his operations against the former, now appeared as a declared- ally of the Infidels. He took several of the most important places, and was more fortunate than ever. ,But the Hungarian nation had no longer a share in these conquests. The better part de- serted the count, and manyI went over to the emperor. FTrmmeric Barcoczy also tore him- self, with a heavy heart, from his beloved friend, but not without a free explanation; and Theo- keoli, after vainly endeavoring by remonstrance and persuasion to deter him from his purpose, saw him depart without' anger, but not without grief. The young man,- on his part, deeply agi- page: 28-29[View Page 28-29] 28 BHUMt WRA*RESS. tated, promised of his own accord never to fight against the count, and always to be at his per- sonal service whenever he should require it. Theokeoli was drawn on by his dark destiny, which, by degrees, robbed him of friends, coun- try, and the world's esteem, and at last let him die, far from his home, in obscure oblivion, among barbarians. We will only mention how the Turkish army now inundated Hiungary, and, besieging the imperial city, put all the Chris. tian, powers in motion. Like a torrent the throngs of fugitives- and pursuers again over- flowed the unhappy land. In the interior, meanwhile, since the emperor, forced by neces- sity to use- mild and moderate measures, had, at the diet of Oedenburg, solemnly renewed the old constitution, there was much more harmony than a short time before, and the majority of the people proved themselves, in the course of this war, devoted to the imperial house, and helped drive- back the Infidels to their bounds. \ * CHAPTER- II. a RETROSPECT. WE have now brought our readers to a point at which our tale, apparently broken off, begins a:new. So far Mary's destiny was too closely in. terwoven with general events, to be separately related. But at the period at which we have now arrived, about six years after her first mar- riage, we find her, once more a wife, inhabiting an old castle, situated in the county of U-ngh- war, close to the Polish frontier, in one of the most inaccessible and thickly-wooded regions of the Carpathian mountains. The -lord of the cas- tle--which bore the Slavonian hame Samosko- was the same Emmeric Barcoczy of whom we have spoken above. 'This one old, decayed man- sion, which, from its seclusion and insignfi- page: 30-31[View Page 30-31] 30 HUMAN' WEA^NESS. cance, hade- escaped the notice of the govern- ment, was all that was left the two barons of their property. But at the division of the pa- ternal inheritance, it had fallen to the -younger brother's share. This unprofitable possession was dear to Em- meric; for here he had passed the days of his childhood, and in the neighboring churchyard was his mother's grave. Here he had lived, since his separation from Count Theokeoli; and though the latter appeared to retain, by force and cunning, other nobles who would have deserted him, yet his followers were commanded to let Barcoczy live in his castle, and hunt in the neigh- boring woods unmolested. The Imperials, in their excursions through the counties of -Ungh- war and Saros, seemed to have no suspicions of the existenee of Samosko. But Eimmeric's old comrades soon succeeded -in finding him out here. Theokeoli's troops kept the castle of Unghwar, to which Count Hammonay, a desert- -er from their party, had retired, in a state of siege. They also were in possession, alternately -HUMAN' WFA KNESS. 81 with the Imperials, ofEperies, Klashau, and other places, officers from the garrisons of which flock- ed daily to the neighboring Samosko, where a hos- pitable board awaited them. Other malcontents joined them; speeches were made, revels held, and a wild, coarse life led by day and night. But this lasted only a short time. For since Emmeric had adorned his home with a beautifil, rich, and refined wife, he passed his daysin peace and quiet, spent them mostly at home, except when he from time to time amused himself with hunting, and seemed to have forgotten all the ad, ventures of his early youth. His friends leftlhim, one by one, cursed his enervating love, and ceas- ed making Samosko the scene of their revels The daring feat of an abduction had placed Mary in FEmm eric's possession; by a glowing and tender love he seemed to havereconciled her, and won her heart. The coarseness of the wild fellows who call- ed themselves her husband's friends, and who thought themselves entitled to new hopes by the active assistance which they had afforded page: 32-33[View Page 32-33] 82- HUMAN WEAiKNESS. him, and the splendid match which he had made, drove the delicate Mary to her chamber during all their visits. Thus the baron was, in the end not displeased at their staying away. He hoped, besides, soon to make his peace with the emperor. The monarch had granted a gene- ral amnesty, and had promised the malcontents the restoration of their honors and dignities, and even, as far as it was possible, a restitution o&f their estates. For this end, all who wished to detach themselves from Thekekeoli and the Turks were summoned to Presburg, where com- missaries awaited them, to whom they were to state their complaints, in order to obtain due sat' isfaction. 'Ernmeric knew too ell how- odious his house was to the Austrian court, to: go to Presburg in person. But he commissioned a shrewd friend, who was in favor at court, and whom personal affairs led there, with his also, and looked forward to a speedy decision with a light and sanguine heart. : Thus Barcoozy and his wife lived for several months in total seclusion from the rest of the [HUM4N WRAKNESS. S3 world. The only one who from time to .time looked in at Samosko, and who often endeavored, and not quite in vain, to rouse in Emmeric's breast his old wild pleasure in adventures, was his elder brother, Stephen. He too had left Theokeoli, but not on account of the Turkish alliance, which, on the contrary, was entirely according to his wishes; he thought himself in- sulted by the count preferring others before him, broke-off with him in anger, and left no means untried to raise a party for young Yezzellini, Theokeoli's former opponent. The latter, after this, sought to attract. him. again by flattering promises, for he knew well what advantages he might derive from the aidof the sombre, decided man, whom a burning heart and- an iron will made equally capable! of crime or of noble deeds. Stephen did not, indeed, actually return to his service, but he gave .up Yezse]ini, and roamed around the country, restless-and home- less, carrying on untiringly the dangerous busi- ness of recruiting, now in the midst of IImperials, now among friends. But wherever he might 2* page: 34-35[View Page 34-35] 34 lHUMAN WfA-NCESS. - be, a watchful eye was kept upon him; and even when he- kept himself quiet and peaceable, he could not -escape the accusation of sowing, by his remarks, the seed for new troubles. One sharp winter's day, when Fnmmeric, with his servants, had gone to the chase in. the morn- ing, and not yet returned towards evening, his wife, the lovely Mary, was sitting at home dis- solved in tears, and thinking over her sad des- tiny. From time .to time she stepped to the window, to see whether the return of her hus- band was not about to dispel the chagrin and ennui of her solitude. The storm was raging out- side, and bore the snow-flakes to and fro on its wild wings, so that her eye could not even reach the court-yard gate, through which he would approach :her. With increased vexation she would then return to her seat, giving way anew to bitter reflections. The elegance of her French, fashionably-cut garments, presented a strange contrast to the old furniture which surrounded her, and which was only of the most necessary kind; the rough figures of the Slovak maids, HUMAN W1EARNESS. :36 who entered the room from time to, time, to sti the fire, or perform some other business, a stil greater one to the delicate form and graceful movements of their young mistress. The latter rested her head on her arms, and tightly closing her eyes, heavy with tears, she seemed willing for a few moments to forget the present entirely. With filial affection she remembered her parents, who had already lain in their graves for some years. They had brought her up strictly, it is true, but with care and love. No bitterness was now mingled with her feelings for them, even by the thought that their cruel com- mand had forced her to give her hand to a man who was nearly fifty years older than she, and sickly and ill-humored. For he, whom alone she had fervently loved, had given sufficient proof that he was not worthy of her. She had never heard from him again. Only by accident she had learned that he was still in Vienna, and in high favor at the imperial court. I have torn him from my heart," she said, and pressed. her hand firmly to that heart, throbbing with indig- page: 36-37[View Page 36-37] 86 HUMAN WF ANESS. nation. Then -she thought, too, of old Opray. In quiet, joyless seclusion, she had lived with him for more than five years. Whether on his estates or in town, his doors were -always closed to visitors, and he had hardly allowed her to leave the house, except to go to church. And even this liberty was not granted to her from piety or good-will-for the old man, though a Catholic, was more inclined to a free-thinking philosophy-but because the customs of the time required it, and he thought thus to make a demonstration of his attachment to the Austrian government, from which he derived personal advantages. These visits to church, however, had impor- "tant consequences for Mary. Leutshau was one of the cities in which her husband sought refuge from the enemy. But hardly had he arrived there, with his wife, when Theokeoli's troops besieged and took- the city. It was on one of these visits to church that Emmeric Barcoczy saw Mary for the first time, never to forget her again. HUMAN WRARNESS. 37 Not without a feeling of pride and pleasure did our heroine now look back upon that mo- ment. A crowd of young officers-Hungarians, Poles, and Frenchmen-surrounded the church door, to gaze, with all a conqueror's triumph, at the lovely women whom piety, habit, or the wish to see and to be seen, led to the house of God even in those dangerous times. Mary passed along with modest steps, her eyes cast upon the ground. A maid followed her. Words of ad- miration were heard at the approach of the bril- liant beauty. She felt the crowd pressingcloser around her. With a look of -timid suppli a she raised her eyes, and they fell upon a young, vigorous man, who gazed at her with an agitated, indescribable expression. There was something in it which could not be misunder- stood. She dropped her eyes in consternation, and a burning crimson covered her delicate cheeks. Alarmed and embarrassed, she endea- vored to press -forward. Suddenly a powerful arm made room before her. The youngoffier was by her side, his eyes fixed'upon her with a .....yh eh i ed' on' h wth- page: 38-39[View Page 38-39] 88 ;HUMAN WEAKNESS. look full of fervor; a broad passage opened before her. At the church door he stopped, opened it, and bowed low and respectfully, coloring deeply. Not without confusion, but with the most charm- ing smile of thanks, she passed him. The deep impression which she had made on him could not have escaped her, and we will not assert that this flattering idea did not slightly disturb her devotion on that occasion. As long as she remained in Leutshau with her,husband, she regularly found the young Hungarian at the church door. His care, and the respect in which he was held, protected her from every kind of intrusiveness. His eyes hung upon her with love and admiration, but he never attempted to approach nearer to her, or address her. She felt grateful to him that he did not seek her acquaintance at her house, which would have been an easy thing to him, the conqueror, and for which step her husband's jealousy would have made her pay dearly. By accident only she learned his name; his dress had made her recognize in himan adjutant of Theo- HUMAN WgRATESS. ,89 keoli. She returned with old Opray to the Com- itate of Tranczin, and soon thought but seldom, and at length never, of her admirer. Years went by, and her husband died. Mary was uncertain what to do now; and, so long ac- customed to be dependent on tfhe will, and even the caprices of others, her liberty at first seem- ed almost irksome to her. To wander about the country, as formerly, from castle to castle, from city to city, to escape from the enemy, would hardly have been proper for the young widow; to await the latter, dangerous. And to secure her castles, and defend them against the armed forces, after the example of the Countess Ve- zellini, and others of her countrywomen: for this Mary had not the necessary courage and resolution. She therefore decided to retire to Bukovina, the most distant of her estates, on, the Silesian boundary, and there pass the year of mourning in complete solitude. Then, by degrees, brilliant plans for the future formed themselves in her little head-Vienna, Italy, the world, lay open before her. In Venice she had a page: 40-41[View Page 40-41] - 40 HUM - WRiAtTST3S. an, aunt, and two of her godfathers resided in -Vienna; From all these she could hope for a hearty weleome. Her liberty commenced to'grow dear- er to her," and- she believed -herself entitled to expect--all the pleasures of life to which youth, beauty,- and riches gave her a right, and which the past had refused her, from the future.--- -But Providence: seemed to have decided dif- ferently. She :had- been a widow eight weeks; no soldier of either party had shown himself du- ringtthat time in the Comitate of Arva, when, one evening, her house* in BLkovina was sudden- ly attacked- by a martial band.; Alarm and terror ovetcatme Mary. - She fell iinto a deep- swoon, When s-, heT recovered her Iconsciousness; -she found: herself in a close carriage,: which,; rolling 'ceaselessly- oin towards the -.East the whole night, :was sm' t ounded by a troop of mufled, ttange-loki ng horsemen. - Notwithstanding the dsrktiess' of the :night, 'she could distinguish that their road lay through .thick woods, and - among :themounitain. -At desolate, retired spots HUMASAN WPc XKTiES. 41 they halted. Fresh- horses stood, in readiness, and on they-went -with the -speed of the wind. At daybreak- the carriage -stopped in the midst of the forest: the door-:opened, ani&d-a man's voice politely asked -Mary to take a slight breakfast, at the same time making excuses for the -impossibility of offering her something bet- ter. - With -tears of anger she rejected- every thing, and did not take notice of the voice which beggedl her to calm -herself, as no harm would befll her. Meanwhile, the other horsemen -had made signals by whistling and calling. -Other men, also disguised,-but - fewer in number, came out of the wood and joined them. The :first now rode slowly back, and coarse jests; loud laughter, expressing:joy at the success of their exploit, sounded in the ears of the itrem-bling captive. timilax1 scenes -occured -repeatedly Iduring the next - day, until late at -night the jour- ney came to; an end. -:ary-was wearied to the utmost- both in::mind' and body. Haalf- un- conscibus, :she-:hardly noticed that:the tarriage stopped: in a cou; One of- the horsemen! dis- page: 42-43[View Page 42-43] 42 HUMB WEAKNESS mounted. With. powerful arms he lifted her out; she felt herself pressed tightly to his breast, and soft tender words of love were mur- mured in her ear, as he bore her up the stairs to a small chamber. During the journey the consoling result of her reflections had been, that the fame of her riches had thrown her into the hands of robbers, and a large ransom would free her: now, she knew at once that she was in the -power of a lover. A horrible dread came over her. She exerted all her remaining strength to scream, to tear herself from his arms. He re- leased her, and gently seated her on a sofa. He tore off his disguise and threw himself at her feet. With speechless astonishment she -re- cognized Emrimeric Barcoczy. There was some- thing: consolatory in this discovery. She felt herself, at that moment, more secure. - A vague consciousness came over her that she had the power of making him happy or miserable. Her reproaches, her imprecations, he replied to by entreaties for forgiveness, by protestations of his passion. He bathed-her hands with tears, he HUMAN WEAKNESS. -43 kissed her feet. He swore to her by his honor, that he only wished to owe her heart, her hand, to his entreaties, to his love; and when she in- dignantly commanded him to leave her, he obey- ed, after urging her once more to strengthen herself by the refreshments which *he would 'send her by a servant, and try to recover by sleep, in the adjoining room, from the effects of her fatiguing journey. - Three days passed away. Mary was a prison- er, but her jailer was at her feet, and when at length, exhausted with entreaties and- passion, in despair hedeclared her free, a voice within her whispered to her, not to repulse the only heart on earth which belonged to her. She suddenly felt that a whole world in which no one loved her, was more empty and desolate than a desert where one heart beat for her. She had had time to compare irnmeric with the beloved of her youth. In her mind she placed Ferdinand's tall, slender figure, with his regular, noble features and manly grace, beside Ernmme- ric, whose form was distinguished only by its page: 44-45[View Page 44-45] "a HUMAN WEAlNESS. vigor, his. face ,by the bloom of youth, and the honest, open expression of his eyes. She recall- ed the elegance of diction, the poetical allusions, the refined language of Ferdinand's conversa- tion-all these were wanting in Emmeric, who,' a son. of nature and of war, had passed his youth alternately in the camp and in the wilderness; There were moments when Emmeric, on whose face love was painted, appeared to her more -beautiful than Ferdinand, and his language, to which love inspired him, far more fascinating and poetical than that of the other. Ferdinand too had loved her, and- she had- never thought him wanting either in fire or tenderness; but now it seemed to her as if she had only just learned what it was to -be beloved; now that she saw and heard Emmeric. -And had he not treasured her ;n: his heart for years, without hope, and far away from her? was he not now exposing him- self to many dangers for the sake of calling her his- own, while Ferdinand, like a coward, had yielded her :to another, when he had to choose between her and his uncle's favor? ' HUITN WEAKESa 45. She was moved. Emmeric did not leave the favorable moment unemployed. Impetuously, and burning with love, he wrung. from her a murmur of assent. A Protestant clergyman was near. Already on the following. day, she was, before God and man, Barcoczy's wife, and his ecstasy, his tenderness, left her no time for a more than momentary repentance of the step she had taken. All this now rose up before poor Mary's mind, and tear upon tear dropped from her beautiful -eyes. Touched -by Emmeric's exclu- sive, all-sacrificing passion, she too had learned to love him, but nevertheless, she was very far from being happy with him. In her daily inter- course with old Opray, she had cultivated her mind much more than was usual among the wo0 men of her time, and particularly of her coun. try. The shrewd old man wished to chain his young, blooming, deep-feeling wife to the house, and make her, by means of poetry and the fine arts, forget reality and Nature's claims. Thus, under his direction, she had learned French, and page: 46-47[View Page 46-47] " HUwMAN WFJAXWESS. perfected herself in the Italian, and soon her ac- quaintance with these two languages constituted the only recreation which her married life af- forded her. The French, particularly, was a fa- vorite with the old man, and he still liked to speak of the time, when, as a cavalier attached to the embassy of Ferdinand III., he had been at the brilliant court of Anne of Austria at Ver- sailles, where he had become personally ac- quainted with several distinguished poets and philosophers. In this way Mary had become highly suscep- tible to the advantages of mental cultivation; but she found daily occasion to feel the want of a taste for such pleasures in Emnmeric. True, na- ture had bestowed on him a soul upon which the beautiful made the liveliest impression. A glance at the grotesquely-glorious scenery around his castle delighted him; a beautiful sunrise, a nocturnal thunder-storm, a simple melody,-all this had an almost magic, a softening effect on his mind. But he could hardly account for these impressions to himself, and words failed HUMAN WRAiAKNESS. 47 him, when he would have co -nunicated them to others. His deep susceptibility, too, for every thing high and noble, he left to be conjectured, more than that he expressed it, and often his most elevated feelings were hidden by a veil of rough vigor. In all that in our day is called refinement, he was wanting; already as a tender boy he had learned better to handle the sword than the pen, better to curb and guide horses, than his tongue. His literary information was confined to a few strategetical works, the Bible, and the hymn-book of his church. Thus, reduced to the intercourse with this, man, Mary had to see the bloom of her life fade away in a wilderness, and she could' hardly hope, even if an unexpected pardon should allow her husband to emerge from his hiding-place, that he should ever voluntarily exchange it with a residence in a city, the very idea of which he hated. She sighed bitterly, as her eye turned to such a future. Meanwhile the storm, outside howled fear- fully through the thick tree-tops of the neigh- page: 48-49[View Page 48-49] 48 HUMAN WEAKNESS. boring forest, so that anxiety for Fmmeric's safety rose higher in Mary's troubled soul. "Where can he be?" she said to herself-"How can he torment me so? I know that in start- ing on one of his expeditions he always resolves tq return soon, but the wild pleasure carries him away entirely. If it cannot be the emperor and his servants against whom he fights, his hand must at least fell the game of the forest. No- thing but combat brings joy to his untamed heart. The chase is to him a weak substitute for war, which is, in fact, his vital element. All Unghwar is filled with Theokeoli's troops, whom, he can no longer look upon as friends. We know too well how they served Count Hammonay, who, like Emmeric, deserted them. And then, when he comes home late at night- however displeased I would appear-I cannot resist his honest kindness. It has been so again and again, and to-night too it will not be dif- ferent." - ..... i.. ! :.. CHAPTER III. A MALCOxNTiffiNT. WHRT,-F. she said this she heard a horse in the court. She stepped to the window, and saw a single horseman dismounting before the house, surrounded by her servants. It is the elder Barcoczy,' she said, in a tone of vexation --' the darkness conceals his face, but I know him by. his gigantic figure, and by the deference with which the- servants bid him welcome." And, turning away, she addeid with rising irritation, ', Hateful manal I ca not look at him without an inward shudder; the dark fire in his eye, his artful smile, hisi glance, which always says much, but yet always conceals still more. I do not at all like his frequent visits; he makes Eimmerie still more suspicious 8 page: 50-51[View Page 50-51] 50 HUMAN WRAKNESS. to the 1government, which never leaves this family out of sight. I dislike him from my inmost soul. I am sure it is his doing that I am here; and,"' she concluded, hesitatingly, "even if I were happy, I would not thank him for it." Her suspicions were correct. It was Stephen who had induced Emmeric to the violent step he had taken, or at least awakened the idea in him, to'dispense, by carrying Mary off by force, with -the consent of her relations, and perhaps her own, which he, the youngest son of an impove- rished and proscribed family, a Protestant, and odious to the Court, had little hope of obtaining. She -conjectured that the shrewd, calculating man. had only made the love of his younger brother the tool of his ambitious plans; that while he pretended, as a friend, to aid him in the fufilmentt of his warmest wishes, his object was only to repair, by her fortune, the faded splendor of his family, and to gain new adherents to his party. The rudeness ofi his manners offended her; the ascendency which age, habit, and cha- facter gave him over Ermmeric, awakened her HUMAN WRAWNESS. 51 jealousy, and his restless occupation of continu- ally rekindling the torch of war, made him ter- rible to her. To-day he came, little satisfied with his day's work. The spirits of his adherents were bowed down, their courage had left them; the Diet of Oedenburg had already -reconciled- the monarch with the greater part of his Hungarian subjects; the serious inclination for peace which the Imperial house now showed had inspired them with new hopes; habit had made many an innovation supportable to them. The eyes of all were directed towards Vienna, where Theokeoli himself had- sent a messenger to make negotia- tions for peace, and to Presburg, where all the affairs of the nation were to be settled.- All avoided Stephen Barcoczy, and when he grew more urgent, all broke with him.- His soul burned with anger and'contempt. "God greet you, sister!"-he. said, as he en- tered. "I hear ERrnmeric is not at home?" "You are welcome, brother," replied -Mary, with a polite salutation; "you have heard page: 52-53[View Page 52-53] 52 XHUMAN WtAKNESS. rightly. I have long been waiting for him with-l fear and anxiety." "Nonsense!" was the answer; "if you would be a hunter's wife you must steel your feelings a little. True, you are a child of the city, brought up with delicacy and refinement, but I should think our mountain air would strengthen even women's souls." "Roughman!" answered Mary, "you hardly know how one feels when one loves a person l" "Oh!" replied Stephen, with a laugh, "do not make me out an entire savage. I am :se- rious. If your little heart is so easily grieved, it should not have chosen Emmeric Barcoczy, for he has been, from hig childhood, a wild, reck- less fellow." "Chosen him?" repeated Mary, with em- phasis. "Well, well, do not be too particular. Say what you will: are you not, before God and man, and all your saints to boot, his lawfully wedded wife? When did your sex ever choose? Married, one way or another, what matters it :EIUMAI W1AXWESS. 58 whether we send our bridesmen -before Is, or bring them with us, twenty of them? Believe my words: among all your city neighbors, vile shopkeepers, rascally pettifoggers, or flattering courtiers, no such brave husband could have been born to you as here in old Barcoczy's house at Samosko." "Why should I quarrel with you about that?"' replied the gentle Mary, with irritation. - It is not necessary that you should take Em; neric's part with me. He loves me, and love is aS much more eloquent advocate than you. It :would be different, if, for instance, base egotism, perhaps the desire for my fortune, had induced him to take this illegal step. Then, indeed, : would have to despise him. For, in my woman- ish opinion, it is much more honorable to work hard for one's living as a shopkeeper,- than to force a large fortune from a defenceless woman." The baron cast a penetrating glance at her. Timid by nature, she was frightened at her mo mentary boldness, and continued more zmode- rately: . . page: 54-55[View Page 54-55] 54 HUMAN WEATRNESS.. "We will let that matter rest. Tell me, ra- ther, what I can offer you. I hope you will stay over night. Will you wait for E-mmeric with your meal? Would you wish some wine? We are at your service." "Thank you," replied Stephen; "let them give me a bottle; with my supper I will wait for the lord of the mansion." V While NMary gave some directions for his entertainment, the dark man paced up and down the room with large steps. He hardly seemed to notice that the mistress of the house returned, and, quietly sitting down by the fire, appeared to be waiting for him to break the silence. At length she said: "Brother, you are as dumb as a ghost. Can you not tell me something new from the distant world, which these high mountains shut out from me?-" Stephen suddenly stopped, but the expres- sion of his face grew still more gloomy. "Thank the Almighty," he said, roughly, "that he has shut out from you a world that wishes nought HUMAN WERAXNESS. 55 but bondage and ignominy. Cowardly nation, that basely deserts its chosen sovereign in time of need; that sells its noble privileges to stran- gers, who tread it under foot! Yes, miserable creatures," he continued, still: more vehemently, "prostrate yourselves in the dust; suffer your- selves to be chased to mass with dogs; creep along the steps of the foreign monarch's throne; warm your weak limbs in the sunshine of court- favor; let Antichrists and Papists give you laws; let them drag you to Croatia again, and sell you, piece by piece, at fifty dollars a head, to the gal- leys of Naples, or cut you down, without further ado, if they are not willing to. pay so much: much good may it do you! You do not deserve that an honest man should grow warm about you"I . "Tell me," said she,. anxiously, "has any thing new taken place?" "What's that to you?" replied he,-in vio- lent anger: "go, to your distaffs, and look to your kitchens, you women HAny thing hap- pened? That's just the thing-nothing, no- page: 56-57[View Page 56-57] " HUMAX W;A'RNESS. thing- has happened, Inothing can take-placei for deeds need power. -But this degenerate race is like: a; herd ofl deer, that hides in the heart of the forest, as soon as it hears --the huntsman and his dogs, Well, much good may the mass do you:, before long, you'1 alll-have -to -go. - "-I' pray jyou,"t rejoined Mary, "compose yourself,' Emmeric must;soon be here. Of what use-would& iit:!be, say yourself, to rekindle the sparik, whieh, :though already half smothered, is still-biirng ing his bosom. If matters stand as you tethme, particularly, it would only become a fire to .consume hinm, and not the strength of yrour opponents. The wisest plan is ton confore to the-,tines2." -: Before Stephen' could answer, the merry sound of bugles was heard. The court was i-rnediately filed with the returning hluntsmen. Mary observed with suipri,% that their numbeor was increased' by tWo strangers, and sheehad leadited to kno her hisband's guests in so un- amr iable a, light, that this discovery :slackened the haty. steps which she:was joyfully tim'ing WaNt WFAKNEB8 .: towards him. When, she reached the court therefore, the:horsemen had already dismount- ed,i and byT Emmeric's side she perceived the tall, youthful figure of a stranger,. clad in an elegant traveling,-dress. "I have brought you a guest,: dearest-wife,". said Emmeric, embracing her cordially; "'re- ceive .him kindly." The stranger bowed-:low. In the .obscurity of the hall she could hardly see his face, but when he spoke a few words in ex- cuse of his late visit, she started at the$ ound of a voice, which she thought, she must have hedart many years ago. A strange emotion sei'ed her: she could only make a mte iclination,: and sign to her husband and his guest toprcoeed to the inner apartments. - "Pray," said Ermmeric to his guest, when they had entered; and he had hastily welcomed his- brother, ,",Pray make yourself-at home. Follow-your owneni onvenince' . - blazing fire like that is good for half frozen limbs, and you are not used to our winter. Warm yourself and then put up with a supper--plain and scan1- w ,' page: 58-59[View Page 58-59] - 58 HUMAN WARWNESS. ty, as a poor Hungarian nobleman can only offer it to you, but which will taste better than the Emperor's meal in Vienna, because we shall eat it with a clear conscience, and had to go without our dinner, and also because my sweet little wife will preside at it." At these words his eye tenderly sought Mary, and started when he saw his beloved, pale as death, and trembling violently,- support- ing herself against the back of a chair. !"What is the matter?" he cried, springing towards her-" my darling, are you ill? How do you feel?" - ' She threw herself vehemently into his arms and said-- IWell, since you are with me once more: do not leave me alone so long again, dear Emrrneric!' "-Is it possible!" he cried, with delighted surprise, " your anxiety for me made you sick?" "Oh I I am a weak woman!" she whispered, while she hid her lovely face, whichwas burn- ing with shame at her deception, against his shoulder. HUMAN WEAKNESS. 59 - Beloved of my heart!" he cied,- in ecsta- 8sy, pressing her closer to him-" light, soul of my life! Never, never shall it, happen again I I will be confounded, if I ever grieve you again, ever again moisten your dear, lovely, beautiful eyes! Forgive me this once I The game: led me here and there, and how could I hope: " "No matter," she .replied, extricating her- self from his arms, "your kindness shames me,; I am conscious of my folly!" The stranger was not unobservant enough, not to gather, from the delight with which. Em- meric received these demonstrations of his, wife's affection, that he was little accustomed to them. His eye glanced with uneasy attention from. one to the other. -But still morescrutini'ingly did Stephen's eye seem to wish to penetrate into his inmost -heart, 'and it: only- turned from; him to rest, again on the German servant, who had brought in the stranger's luggage, 'and had now mingled with the domestics of-the house. ' A word, brother," said the elder Barcoczy, at length, to Emmeric.--as the latter turned:again page: 60-61[View Page 60-61] 80 S-PrmANRA-Xl^*ES to -his ;guests--an4 leadiong him aside, he con" 'tinuedj "do you know your guest?" ' -" - e told me his name, but I have forgotten it. 'What. does'he concern me -farther?"?' "He isw no Hungarian?" '"Atheast;he: has:just come from Germany. But-.what: put this. :curiosity into your head? Does our hospitality ever ask after nation, title, and dignities of stray travellers,i before it opens our doors to them-?" - ' These are dangerous -times," repIied the other. A great'many :of the Imperial party are stealing about in the land, to watch usj and c9almniate us in Vienna; Take' care that this brings youii;no bad consequences in Presburg." - May be;" said FRmmeric carelessly, " this one i:s none of them, and if he were, it's all the sameI-:to me; i you kiow well thait I have no- thitig:more to'do with your party. But, again, he -is none -of themi-hhe is a pleasant, well-bred man, who is very good- conmpany. - e is travel- ling for :pleasure, and is in love with our moun- ( -* * - . " : *.- .* . - * * . ; * . *. UUMAfN - W AR-1ESs. 61 tains. I'found him and his servant in the wood, where they had lost. their way." The -.object 'of:.. Stephen, -: apprehensions, meanwhile,- had several times attempted to ap- proach Mary.. She-had turned away from -him, and stood' motionless,- with- .haughty: coldness, avoiding all his glances.-: He at length desisted from 'his endeavors, rubbed his hands, emptied his glass, and. stepped to the window, until 'Em- meric came to him, and repeated his cordial- in- vitation to a, Magyar evening meal. Excited 'by :Mary's kindniess to -noisy- joy Emmeric applied himself freely to the bottle, and did not omit to urge his guest- to follow his example. 'Stephen' seemed' inclined to di- vide the ;duties of the host with him.; he too drank incessantly to the stranger, and sought to invalidate-"every pretet tunder which the latter refused to-drink beyond moderation. The' travels ler seemed. to feel some embarrassment from-thie piercing glances of the elder baron:, but replied to his artfilly worded qUestionswwith pblite'dis- cretion. He related, inasled; that he was a page: 62-63[View Page 62-63] 62 HUMAN WEARKNESS. painter from Dresden, and was called Frederick Sommer. He added, that he was travelling by order of the young Prince Augustus, to take up landscapes for his cabinet, and that he had just come from Italy.- He called to his servant to bring -him- from his portfolio some sketches, which represented some of the finest points of the banks of the Danube and Drave. Emmeric expressed his delight and -admiration at these, spoke of his country with warmth, did not con- ceal his dissatisfaction at its present situation, and added that love had now turned him into one- of the most devotee ubjects of the Aus- trian house. With a view to corroborate this avowal he drank the emperor's health. When the meal was fini'shed, Mary, who, dur- ing it, had mostly sat absorbed in thought, and now and then smiled to Emmmeric, left the table, to retire to the sitting-room. Emnmeric had al- ready ordered more wine, when Stephen also ,rose, saying: "Let me say two words to you, brother. Your guest will excuse us. I have still farther HUMAN WFA KNESS. 63 to go, and it is growing late. Your housewife can entertain him until I have done with you." Emmeric, upon this, led the stranger back to Mary's apartment with a few polite words, and kindly recommending him to her care, he left them together, without noticing in the least the agitation into which his appearance with their guest had thrown his wife. page: 64-65[View Page 64-65] CHAPTER IV. THE TEMPTRS. WHEN Ermmeric had left the room, Ferdinand Szentirany-for it was he-looked carefully about him, then approached Mary with hasty steps, and gently taking her hand, he said, in a low voice: "Mary, it is I!" "I can hardly credit my senses," she replied, in the same tone. "You, Ferdinand Szentirany, and in this house?" "Yes," he replied, with animation; " even to this house, where hatred and love menace me with equal dangers, I have followed you!" "Followed me!" she cried, in alarm; " what do you mean?" "What though," he continued, with increase * { v/ HUMAN WEAKNESS. 65 ing tenderness in his voice-" what though treacherous snares are already being laid for me, or the assassins -dagger ts awaiting me; I have seen you once more 1" "What do you mean?" she- replied, breath- lessly--"for my sake?'-Neverl" she added, ,snatching her hand fromn his. . "Ah, my Mary!" said Ferdinand, " can you wonder at this? Does: not the miner descend into the deepest shaft, to: discover there the treasure which dark powers keep imprisoned!n the bowels- of the earth? Thus I was driven on to penetrate into these mountain defiles",where thou, bright jewel, art 'buried. I -find thee, ;I recognize thee! but more'-brilliant and glorious than ever, I behold thee again, l" ' .. - . ". While he spoke thus,- with exaltation, :Mary had: completely regained her composure -She -again 'felt plaainly 'that he .hhad, -vby:-his conduet, made himrself the :object: of her Xjust angeo. When ,he had finibshied, she!said, with 'cutting coldness: : "Spare your words, Mr. De: Sentiany, their page: 66-67[View Page 66-67] " HrUMAN WTAYNESS. lonied sound is ill-matched to your behav- ior." "How!" he cried, giving his voice, as she did -not look at him, an expression of the utmost as: tonishment-" how! you doubt me?" "Ill-matched, too," she continued, " to the part which you play here as the guest of Em- meric Barcoczy. Speak frankly; what brings you, a chamberlain and a devoted servant of the emperor, to these mountains? What wise plan, reveal it to me, leads you to the declared ene- mies of your party? Are, you, perhaps, sent by the Austrian court, artfully to discover whether the stubborn will of the brave, much- injured house, is' at length broken? Take courage, ye mighty men," she added, with some scorn--" a weak woman has succeeded in tam- ing one of these lions. It is me whom he loves, me whom he would not deprive of a beloved husband; therefore he is quiet. To domestic happiness he has sacrificed his old prejudices, as well as his old inclinations!" Mary! cruel creature " rejoined Ferdinand, HUMAN WF AKTWESS 67 after a pause--"in what could you not suc- ceed? Now also, you have only hit the mark too well, at which -you aimed in the -arrogance of beauty. You would punish me, whose crime --if it be one to obey our fate--has long since rpunished itself. Each-of-your words has pierced my soul like a sharp knife." "Do you call following the vain dictates of your heart, obeying your fate?" she replied, in, dignantly. "Oh -yes, your fate was to appear at court in magnificence and splendor. How could poor silly Mary have satisfied you there? The little fool, who took-it all for earnest, when your lips swore to her, in jest, with a thousand oaths, that her eyes shone more gloriously to you than all the jewelled splendor- of the em-r press and her ladies ;- that-the gold of her locks- was- more precious to you than all that you could ever hope from your uncle, if you obeyed his commands." . Ferdinand was again silent for a few mo- ments, and at length said, in a pained tone,- "You see- me standing motionless, and dumb page: 68-69[View Page 68-69] 88 HTUMANR WBaXNESS. with astonishment. After years of longing-I find you again; but it is, and yet is not you. It is the same sweet eye, the serene' brow, the rosy, hue of the cheeks, it is the same noble figure,; the- grace of motion -from the sight of whieh I once drank life; oh it is still more, it is the bud which has opened into the queen of flowers, in proud joyousness.!But not; the gentle ' soul of myi Mary; so. well- known to me, speaks -from your lips. Your words sound strange to me*,. I feel that -the wicked: spirit of suspicion has. taken: possession of your tender breast, and directs your tongue to express cutting, deadly, ivi thouihtS "i . - While he was speaking, Mary had sat down, and covered her face -with both hands., -.That rich manly ibice struck flatteringly on her ear,. onher :heart: :now she cried, with vehemence,- - I: O!0th coiild you bdt defenid your conduct I could you bat unburden yourself of the heavy guit; which .bears me down instead of youz/ You cannot do it; in my heart youcarot- do itL: iFor all my tears could not blot out what , HTTM'AW 'WEA KNESS 69: memory has written in my soul with lines of fire! I was a guileless child," , she; continuedc losing herself in the sad retrospect; - brought up by pious parents in' the fear of God land in strict seclusion; early; accustomed to need and bitter poverty,. never. enjoying any :of the plea.- sures -of- youth, I yet found la humble happiness in my breast, until your appearance, your bold advances, and your vows of love, robbed me of my peace 1" . "And did, not. love, my Mary," inquired Ferdinand,' tenderly, pressing -her hand, to his bosom, "offer you the sweetest compensation?" "Yes," she replied, -weeping,.'"'I .was-happy for one short hour. I was happy,- until the come' mands of my cruel parents 'surrendered me to that selfish old man. You know it, Ferdinand-; I wrote to you--my hand trembled, the paper was wet with my tears.: I begged, you to save me; I humbly craved that which your vows and my love entitled-me to claim. In my. chamber I sat, in tears, awaiting ,you or ,yourwmessage. ' Ahl in vainl One day after- the' other- passed, ..,The page: 70-71[View Page 70-71] 70 :HUMAN WEAKTESS. wedding-dayarrived, you did not appear. I was led to the altar, a sacrifice adorned for the festival; but you " "Could I venture," he interrupted her, " to bifid my dark fate to that of your bright youth?-I, the youngest son of my family, sub- sisting on the scantily-bestowed benefits of my uncle? Could I venture, while another offered you treasures, to lead you, whose noble head would be fitly adorned by the Apostolic crown, to a life of need and misery? Do not mistake my motives. It was love, love alone, that guided me. And that is not true love which selfishy regards only itself, and is happy only in possession." - "No, Ferdinand," cried M[ary, passionately, '"you have never loved. Yoau would have felt that a tender heart would willingly reject the world and its treasures, when they are not offered by the hand of love. You would have known, that it would be- sweeter -for that, heart to wan- der with its chosen one from door to door, living on the bounties of our fellow-men--but," she -H- UMPA WTArNWESS. 71 interrupted herself, in alarm, "where am I stray- ing to-what have I done? My God! what have I said? You may be guilty, or not; you are a strangeri to me now. Am I not the wife of Tmrnmeric Barcoczy, your enemy?- Why do you again thrust yourself between me and my peace? Go, go! why do you awaken in me what time had already begun to lull to sleep?" Mary was in the highest excitement. Her heart beat wildly. Her cheeks burned; astif to repulse him, she stretched out her hands towards him, and sank back in her chair. Ferdinand must have been neither lover nor courtier to let this moment pass by without availing himself of it. I "No, no," he cried, throwing himself at her feet, "let me rather awaken it to eternal life. Oh, let me find words, a magic spell, to destroy the dark demon that holds thy heart enchained in blind delusion! But words are not needed. That thou seest me here within these walls, faith- ful to thee during six years spent among the en- ticements of a splendid court-is that a proof of page: 72-73[View Page 72-73] - a1HUMAUN W AKNESS, unworthy forgetfulness? Punish me then I my life, my liberty, are in thy hand. Disclose my name,: and the flame of thine anger will be quenched in streams of my heart's blood. Those robbers, those brothers, are together at the right hour., A single word from thee, and they will eagerly grasp at the advantage which my de- fencelessness offers them. Theokeoli hates us like death, and these Barcoczys will triumph at being able to injure Le emperor in one of his most faithful servants, and my uncle in his nephew." "Oh cease!" cried Mary, in despair--"You mistake Emmeric, mistake me. Why do you torture me thus? Leave me, and let me never, never see you again " "No I I will hold it fast, this precious mo. ment I Soon he who presumes to call himself your husband will return. But a few minutes are left me. Listen to me," he continued, ris- ing-" yes, I left Presburg with a' lacerated heart. I obeyed the summ'ons of my.. uncle cn. tered upon the slippery track of a court life. I Pon the slipp e HfUMAl WEirEAW ESS. 78 f6ind splendor and: honor. It seemed as if Fortune felt remorse--as if she would edmpen' sate me with a thousand gifts for having de- prived me of one invaluable treasure. :The em- peror overwhelmed me with bounties; the prime minister honored me with his favor. :'But I was not happy. 'Choose among the: fair of our court,' said the empress. But none wasfair be- side:thee. It was then that I heard that thou wertifree. I fell at the feet of my sovereign, I entreated leave of absence, I spoke to him of thee. 'Go,' said the kind prince, 'adorn otur court with this jewel; give Emy wife an attendant andi a' friend.' I hasten to Presburg on wings of love-not a doubt enters my heart-my Mary's love is eternal, I say to myself,: as mine is eternal. I arrive; I hear, in despair, that thou art in the hands of a robber, a traitor, a rebel, a heretic. Anger fills rmy-:vhole soul; but I am resolved -to save thee, to possess thee, or die. I had need of stratagem to penetrate intodthis well-guarded house. I am here, and--" At this point, 'Emnreric, with a cordial' apo- 4 page: 74-75[View Page 74-75] 74 HUMAN W'RA iNESS. logy for his long absence, interrupted the con- versatlon; Ferdinand, with calm presence of mind, immediately commenced a new one; while Maryremained quiet and passive. Frommeric was somewhat absent-minded. i His interview with Stephen had had an obvious effect on his spirits. Thus the evening passed away. Next morning the traveller seemed about to take his departure again, but his host, with all the cordial hospitality of his nation, pressed him tot remain. He proposed to him to choose Samosko for his abode as long as he remained in that part of the country, and to make from thence excursions into the mountains for the 'further- ance of his aim. He offered to lead him to se- veral fine points himself, and to be his guide among the wilder portions of the country. The stranger, after some modest refusing, thankfully accepted both invitation and promise, and -at breakfast the matter was already entirely set- tled." During the negotiations Mary sat in si- lence, with a beating heart. When her husband requested her to join in his invitation, she did HUMAN WEAKNESS. 75 it, as he thought, with a coldness so unkind, that he believed the laws of hospitality, so sacred to -him, violated, and felt himself induced to be- come more urgent. Accustomed to inequality in Mary's behavior, he found, guileless and un- observing as he was, nothing extraordinary in it on this occasion. Thus he did not suspect what his unhappy wife suffered during the week that the stranger artist was her guest. Her heart nearly broke in the desperate struggle between love and her duty to her husband-between the wish to be happy and the fear of causing unhappiness. Not a moment that they were alone together did Ferdinand Szentirany suffer to pass unemployed. Again and again he unrolled a picture before her which showed her the tenderest love, the fulfil- ment of early hopes, and, as an enticing back- ground, the splendor of the court, the pleasures of an unknown world. She could hardly doubt still that his faith had never been shaken; had he not come back to her after six years, he who, with his brilliant education, with his uncle's fortune page: 76-77[View Page 76-77] 76 - HUMAN WREA WNESS. and power, -and the emperor's favor, could- have found, as her inexperience led her to think, a thousand "nobler and wealthier women, the way to -whom did not lead through dangers and troubles, as- did that to her? Besides, Ferdinand found means to -put in motion all that, apart from the representation of a devoted constancy, could occupy and charm the fancy of a, woman; and then, too, her ignorance of the world and its relations were of great assist- ance to him. More than- once he reminded her that the whole court were already awaiting her; that she was to be the confidential attendant, the friend of her empress; and he secretly smiled at the effect which these representations pro- duced. "Qh, vanityI oh, woman!" he said to himself, and smilingly he plodded onj with firm steps, towards his goal. Poor ERmmeric, on the other hand, did not even, in his honesty, make use of the weapons which were at his command, and with which, -perhaps, he might have conquered even so dangerous a rival as Ferdinand, if he had only known how HUMAN WEAKNESS. " to use them at the moment when it was' neces- sary. Much disturbed by repeated summons- one more urgent than the other-to join a new alliance in favor of Theokeoli, he was occupied, at just this period, and for the first time in his married life, more with his country than with his love. Distrait and undecided as he was, Mary's low spirits and ill-humor, when he wished -to cheer himself up .in her company, only weigh ed his own mind down. On the other hand, he found some recreation in the intercourse with his cheerful, calm,; and considerate guest, iand therefore allowed Mary often to retire to. her lonely chamber. . ..e And.-yet it seemed that the latter, at the bot tom of her heart, was convinced of his unalter able love, for in the end it was only pity that deterred her from consenting to the separation from him.. By .degrees - Ferdinand's eloquence had nearly succeeded in making her believe:that she was doing no moral wrong, or committing no ,sin, as the expression was in those daysi if she left a man, who, besides being a hereftic had page: 78-79[View Page 78-79] 78 HUMAN WEAKNESS. only by force obtained possession of her hand, and to whom, moreover, she was not married but by an invalid act, by a heretic priest. "Was any other choice left you?" said her lo- ver; " and does he not know as well as you, that you only became his wife to save your honor? Who has ever blamed the prisoner who plans his escape without thinking 6f the responsibility of his keeper? Should the one remain in irons so as not to plunge the other into ruin? should he bear his chains for ever because once he could not defend himself from them? Your word before the altar?-but to whom have you given it? to a man who has forsaken his God, his religion-a heretic. -Heaven has not heard your vow, has' not accepted it, for it was one which you might not swear. The holy Church does not recognize it,; her daughters be- long to her, and only her servants can give them away. The State, too, does not acknow- ledge your marriage, for you had no right to give, your fortune to a rebel, a traitor, who spends it in winning accomplices, and forging HUMAN WEAKNESS. 79 new intrigues against the sacred person of his emperor. And into what an immeasurable depth of ruin will, must the connection with these Barcoczys at length plunge. you, if you obstinately persist in a delusion which you call duty! You flatter yourself that peace is at hand; that it will permit you to return to a world to which you belong. But how little do you know the state of the affairs of these Barcoczys. There remains no doubt that they, with the count him- self, as the first instigators of this last rebellion, will be excluded from the amnesty. En-rmerio betrays all his want of judgment if he foolishy thinks that a monarch may pardon crimes of this kind. Does aught remain to him but to return to -Theokeoli? You will see sayage Mussulmen penetrating into your dwelling; hordes of Tar- tars will carry off your maids as slaves. Say not they come as-friends-as allies. Look at Wallachia, at Moldavia, that are under the pro- tection of the Infidels, and you will feel that their friendship is more terrible than the enmity of Christian powers. Far away, fighting with page: 80-81[View Page 80-81] S80 :HUMHAN WERAKNESS. the army of the rebels, Emmeric could not pro- tect you, even if he would. Maryl deep an- guish fills my breast at the thought that, you too may be carried off as a lovely prize, and leftto fade away in- the harem of some abandoned In- 6deL;. You, who, by one courageous step, might be the ornament of the imperial court, the be- loved and honored wife of a man whom all the favor and graciousness of his sovereign couid noSt compensate for your loss!" These, and similar arguments, .Mary herd daily.. None of. Ferdinand's reasons failed to make an impression on her mind., And even if the course of events should not lead her to the terr riblemisfortune at which he hinted, yet had not that which principally kept'her back, Emmerios love, often seemed to her too the tool for appro- priatingher riches to the use of a troubled party? Thus she at last proceeded, so far asato ac count herself highly generous and full of ten- der conscientiousness, for not wishing to take,- step to, which the- force that ,she- had been sub+ jeoted to seemed to entitle her; for rejectin HUMAN WEAK NESS. 8t this opportunity only from regard for thehappi- ness of a man who had so deeply wronged her, anid thus sacrificing her own for him. But with her feelings for him for whom she 'made this sacrifice, there mingled by degrees something inexpressibly bitter, and the more so, as just now he seemed to recognize her worth and her kindness less. More and more she immersed herself in that injurious self-compassion which, in .time, will even, disarm. strong: hearts, while weaker ones are totally ruined under its in- fluence-: .To Ferdinand's urging she returned, need, a repeated negative, but this negative was' accompanied with so; many tears that even a less experienced suitor would- not have lost courage. page: 82-83[View Page 82-83] CHAPTER V.- PARTnNG. ON the ninth morning the three were seated at the breakfast table, when a confidential servant brought the baron a letter, which, as he said, had been left by a mysterious messenger, who had immediately disappeared. Emnomeric changed color as he hastily glanced over the few lines which the missive contained. He arose, paced to and fro uneasily, and at length left the roqm. "The letter is from Theokeoli," saidFerdinand in a whisper, moving closer to Mary. a It sum- mons Fimmeric to a spot where several of his old adherents are already assembled,' and, with the aid of the Seraskier, are arming anew to suc- cor Moncacz, which is threatened by General HUMAN WREA'KNESS. 8S Karaffa. ERmmroeric will soon leave us-the hour has come-courage, my Mary!" Emmreric had indeed recognized the hand- writing of his master and friend; but the con- tents were different from those which Ferdinand had named. A dark rumor had already reach- ed Samosko, that count Theokeoli had been treacherously taken captive by the Seraskier Seitan Pasha, and delivered up to General Ka- raffa. The letter confirmed at least a part of this rumor. It was written in Latin, and con- tained what follows: "This word from friend to friend!--rmme- ric Barcoczy, I greet thee from captivity. Thou wert right in warning me against the- alliance with Turks and Infidels. On the day after to- morrow the Seraskier will cause me-to be trans- ported to Adrianople. If thou art the same who swore to me to be at my service if ever my life or my honor were at stake, proceed immediately, as secretly as possible, to Veresmart. There thou wilt find Ketezer, Petroczy, Kendi,- and page: 84-85[View Page 84-85] 9a - UtA WiA 1tNs5S. other trust friends. Y r united courage, or your stratagems, will succeed in liberating me. -From them thou wilt learn more.. I will leave these traitors, fly to Poland, and throw myself into Sobieskis arms. rnnleric . I trust in thee " E. .T," What blanched the baron's cheek when he first read this letter, was by no means the idea of his own danger in such an enterprise; it was that of the onsequences of this step, which, be- sides the anxiety for his friend, suddeIy arose before his soul. On the point of making his peace with the emperor, he saw clearly that. hy the liberation of Theokeoli he; pesnted himself again as the decided adherent of the latter. He felt, besides, that when theonly cause for which he had left, Theokeoli, his alliance with the Infi- dels, was removed, he could not refuse him his aid now,. when he was not yet bound by any new. ath to Austria. The Porte seemed very much inclined to make peace-not less so Prince Apafi; On -the other hand, the relation betwee' HUMAN WAiXESS, ,s, the peror and France was again taking ,an inimical:: turn; it was not improbable that the war which might break. out aanew,- would aso set :Hungaryiin flames again. Courage and a love for war were innate in Ermmeric's breast. Grown up among- combat and battles, the most restless mi itaycti aynd the unbound- ed, liberty of just such a -w as his party had carried: on, had;: been .the elements from which -he had--drawn the:- breath Q life. But lQve end. a, do estio.: fe'f :hd new, made him sus cptible -:of the happi^ness ofpeace. .e % mrneTbered: besides- the prorise wichi h Mar had extorted from him at their i armiage, to do everythingin hi power to become reconciled witht he -emperor. He: thought, too, -of .the obligation: which he had taken upon:irhimrs lf in the: care of :Ms wife's fortune, which, by a retn to hi:a rty, :would ibe entirely lost, as the great er part:of he: estates lay in a:.patof ta r on- try ,hieh, wod -be, most- dffioult t win from thef emper or. - - ' ;'Bit ,ehow ever thatmay be/he, aid "I 'I page: 86-87[View Page 86-87] 86, , HUMN WEA KNESS. cannot desert my friend-once my acknowledged master-in his need. I will go to Veresmart. I will use every means to liberate him. - I will do it, if the whole army of Infidel dogs were guard- ing- him. "With the other friends I will escort him over the Polish frontier. Then I shallbid him farewell. My arm belongs to my country, not to him. Only ambition and- selfish dissatisfaction can blind him as to the advantages which the diet of Oedenburg has obtained for our land. I shall tell him so, plainly, and- leave him at the fron-t tier. True to my oath, I will no more fight either for or against him." His brow glowed at the thought of having to look idly on during a new struggle of his country.- - is heart burned, and all his inborn warlike inclinations awoke within him. "Mary," he-said, in a low voice, "I sacrifice much for thee!" With these feelings he returned to the apart- ment where he had left Mary with their guest. "Pardon me," he said to the latter;.- " necessary- business obliges me to make a little journey, EUMAXu WTCAKrESS& -8 which will keep me absent several-days. It is not meet that the host should leave the house while honored guests inhabit it, but urgent cir- cumstances must excuse me." "You are too -kind," said Ferdinand; "the memory of your hospitality and goodness'will ever be alive in my heart.. But necessity coincides wondrously with necessity in this case. I had just disclosed to your noble lady that this must be the last day on which I could enjoy the happiness of remaining in -this castle; I have:several times re- minded myself that I have lingered here too'long already.' Friends have been awaiting me since autumn, at Presburg, where I promised to follow them from Vienna. An after-thought induced me- to go to Venice, and .land in hagusa. They haveq not heard from me, and are doubt- less anxious about me. - Allow me to: leave the house together with you, and turn to the West, while your way, perhaps, leads you in another direction." -"Pray," -said Ermmeric, with cordial civility, "do not punish my indecorum by so sudden a' page: 88-89[View Page 88-89] 88 - HUMAN WETAK-NESS. departure. I would urge you to remain here, if my wife were going with me; but as she will stay at home, your youth and- good looks would make it improper for you to keep her company in the. absence of the master of the house. I beg you, make one of your excursions, and re; turn here in few days." The stranger seemed touched by Emmeric's kindness*, but gave such potent reasons for his refusal,: that. the latter: at length desisted. They therefore agreed :to set out as soon as possible, and the-guest left the room to make the neces? ssay :arrangements. It wasnot without dismay, that Mary saw her friend preparing for such a speedy--departure. Dark sensations of sorrow Tningled within her with the thought of a -men- acing' future, which was confirmed and more clearly: reawakened by the mysterious letter which her husband had receivedi by Ferdinand's assurance that it .summoned him to a new rebel- lion, and by Emmeric's sudden resolve to leave her -for, so; long.. Consequently, she felt more out of humor-iwith the latter than ever; :and -HUMAN WSA NESS. 89 when, after having given some orders to the servants, he sat down beside her, and, tenderly lamenting -the; separation, would have affection- ately -embraced her, she disengaged herself, and said, in a cutting tone; Might I, perhaps, venture to ask you who wrote that letter, which sends you from me so irrevocably? - "You know, fairest one," he replied, forcing a smile, "that you:may venture any thing with your .poor slave. But may he venture not to answer you this one time?" - . ,; '!. You knorw, rather," said Mary, - bitterly, "that you have a right to do as you like. I might have spared the question.. True, I do not know what is in your letter, but I think I can guess the contents. If it, perhaps, invites -you to :patake .in neow illegal enterprises, think well what you are about.... Breaking thetpeace,-.shed- ding the bjood of innocent citizens, to assert ob- Smately imagina ry, rights, the loss of which- is repaired by other a:dv antages--can never --bear good fruits, .and will end at last :in bbanish- page: 90-91[View Page 90-91] 90 HEMuN WERAKNESS. ment, or ignominious deaths Consider all this well!" Emmeric's face was suffused with a dark crimson: the reproaches of his friends that he had submitted to the unworthy rule of a woman, sank into his heart for the first time; and while he felt what a sacrifice he was about to make for her sake, he was doubly wounded by her arrogance. "My dear child," he said, with affected calm- ness, " every thing becomes fair women but the meddling in political affairs; it is just as if I would stand over the hearth and cook, or seat myself at the embroidery frame." Mary, ashamed and piqued, was silent, and a short pause ensued, which was broken by the entrance of Ferdinand. Mary started when she saw her friend in his travelling-dress; and imme- diately after the horses were led up. "You are ready, and a longer stay would be -irksome to us both,"' cried mrmmeric, wishing to escape farther painful emotions by a speedy de- parture. 'He turned to Mary to take a cool leave HUMAN W^A XNESS. 91 of her; but as he looked at her, the sight of that pale, beautiful being seized him strangely. He threw his arms about her, held her forcibly in spite of her struggles, and kissed her several times with passionate violence. Custom, while fit would even now condemn as indelicate such free caresses of husbands in the presence of strangers, allowed them still less at that time of restraint and ceremony. For Mary they were necessarily doubly unpleasant, when witnessed by her departing lover; threefold so, after the scene which had just transpired. For delicate- minded women feel much more hurt than flat- tered by the sensual admiration of those who show them want of esteem. Angrily she disen- gaged herself, and at that moment there was in her heart something like aversion towards her husband. Ferdinand now approached her, and took leave of her with all the politeness and grati- tude of a well-entertained guest. Not a mien, not a word betrayed a deeper emotion. Mute and dismayed she stood, and saw both trav- page: 92-93[View Page 92-93] 92} HUMTAN WEAKNESS. ellers leave the room-the house. An involun- tary movement led her to the window. The two men- were shaking hands, wishing each other every thing good, and were bidding each other, as it seemed, a cordial as well as civil fare- well. Then they mounted. Ferdinand, with his servant, rode out of the gate and turned to the left; Emrmeric followed him, and took the road to the right: he was accompanied by seve- ral. servants. Now they: were out of sight. Now she was all alone. Long she stood, as if stunned by-a painful blow; at length a torrent pf tears lightened her heart. . CHAPTER VI. A DISCOVERY. SHE could not conceive it, not comprehend it, that he should thus have parted from her--thus I After such a time spent-with her, such scenes-to leave her thus without an adieu, without one tender farewell!"Your refusals have at length tired him," she said to herself. :But ah! she did rot ask to possess him, she only would have wished, to. tell him once more that she would rather be unhappy than:an adulteress. She only wished to see him, to bless him, once more. For a long time she thought he could not have parted thus, he must, must come back. But the day crept on slowly, and she waited for him'in vain. The evening had already set in, when she could no longer bear to stay in the house; she put on page: 94-95[View Page 94-95] " 1UAN WEARKNESS. -her eloak,- threw a veil over her head, and told her attendants that she was only going to breathe a little fresh air in the garden. She did not, however, go to the garden, but descended the castle-hill to the road that led in a south-western direction. An inexpressible dread urged her onward, but darkness came on more and more, and she at length resolved to return. As she looked about once more," she -saw, at some, distance, emerging -from a mountain defile, a female figure, which, from the grotesque, fantastically- aigged costume, she recognized as a gipsy. The- woman carried a. half-naked child in her arms; she appeared not to- notice Mary, who was' walking. along the road with short, rapid steps, but, fnllowing-the upper mountain-path, she always kept a little behind her, and caressed her child, speaking toit in a language which seemed ' composed-of several diferent tongues. Suddenly she commenced singing, with a clear, youthful voice, a song which penetrated the soul of the listener . HUMAN WAKwESS- 96 The melody moved, monotonously plaintive, in a few notes only. The words were in the purest Servian, and a short pause which- the singer made between each verse, made Mary con- jecture that the song was the outpouring ofmow mentary sensations, or was only now. put to- gether from dark reminiscences. The words were thee -e: Woe is me! whence yonder plaintive moaning Tolls a bell? Is't the gray cuckoo shrieking? , Lele, lele!* If a bell, It would sound from the high tower- - From the lofty- treetop, if a cuckoo. Lado, ladto If Is 't the maiden on the mountain pathway? Is it on her arm her darling baby? -i Lele, lele I Tom, and bloody is her- face so bnow-white, Swollen are her coal-black eyes, and bloody- - Lado, lado l; Bloody are her light feet, sore with walking, And her yellow boots with blood are wetted. Lele, lele! *Lefcwoe. , .orow page: 96-97[View Page 96-97] -get ' BUMPN tW XNESS, "Dearest! in the white house art thou feasting Dearest! in the greenwood art thou hunting . Lado,. lado I "Dearest! give me thy round-spotted mantle, So that with it I thy boy can cover 1 Lele, lele t' "Give to me thy cap so black of wolf-skin, So thdit I can hide my face within it! Ladoe, lado! "With the scourge my mother drove me from her, 'Slut! go forth and seek thy foreign sweetheart!' Lele, lele! "Now for three long years, three days and nights too, Dearest! I have sought through wood and m ountain! Lado, lade!.: ' "In the white tents with the boy 've' sought thee-- On the battle-field, among the corpses! Lele, lele I "Howls the storm, and my black hair has loosened; Dearest! in thy fair white house receive me! Lado, lado I PFalls the snow, and stiff with cold's my baby; Dearest'!' take uis in, to thy warm fireside! Lele, lele P' Mary, acquainted only with another Slavic HUfMAJSN -WUNESS. 07 VEAN W bEA Sa 97) dialect, did not understand all the words of this song. But she could guess their meaning suffi- ciently to find them adapted to her own situa- tion; wandering over the mountain-path, seeking her beloved, she too could have intrusted her cry of woe and sorrow to the winds. But that which made a particularly strong impression upon her is a secret of the song, which can be given in no translation. For while the singer sent after each of her verses a plaintive,: Lele, lele! or Lado,: lade / she seemed at the same time to appeal to the gods of love, who, in old Slavic mythology, bear, with wondrous significance, these names. ado!/ Lele/ were echoed back in Mary's heart. In listening, she had involuntarily slackened her pace a little, so that the gipsy, who walked more briskly, soon came up with her. She had hardly noticed the stranger before she address- ed her, and greeted her in the most wretched Hungarian, but with an Oriental politeness of manner. "Most beautiful lady," she cried, "may the 5 page: 98-99[View Page 98-99] 9Q EHUMN WBANK-ES8. flower of thy health never fade! May the foun- tain of thy love's joys never dry up I May the poisonous serpent flee before thee, and likewise the black plague, the murderous one!-tell me, am I still far from Samosko?" Mary had replied to the salutations by a grace- ful inclination of the head; at the last question, she looked up suddenly, somewhat surprised: ' "Do you seek a night's lodging there?" she inquirea. "I have run till my poor feet were bloody; am sore and tired to death; not a soul would refuse me one any where. But tell me, is it far trom here?" Quite near," replied Mary; "my way also leads to it." "That is well," answered the gipsy, and com- menced climbing down the steep side of the mountain. Her pliant limbs accomplished the feat without much trouble. In a few moments she was by Mary's side. The latter could now look at her more closely. She beheld a tall, slender figure, of scarce & HUMAN WEAKNESS. 99 eighteen years, with powerful, but not coarse limbs. In the face, which was oval, and mould- ed with Oriental beauty, there was not at the same time the Oriental rigidity, the deadly-cold regularity of feature, which often draws together the heart of the feeling Occidental beholder. On the contrary, there was in it a degree of mo- bility, which made known the soul, and which would have given a charm to the face, if even the eyes which shone from it had been less black and brilliant. Daz7,ling white teeth, coal-black hair in massive braids, showed her origin, as also the disfiguring color of her skin; and if her song told of a "snow-white face," the adjective had perhaps only been borrowed from other Servian or Wallachian lays. The air and exercise, how- ever, had sent a rich color into the cheeks of the wanderer, so that they appeared rather of a clear brown than disagreeably yellow. The black kerchief which was bound around her head, be- came her well; it was wound several times around with crimson ribbons, and from it were suspended pieces of silver coin, both great and page: 100-101[View Page 100-101] -IRtMAN WEAKNESS. small, which formed a semicircle around the forehead. Several of the coins were missing, and seemed to have been used for defraying the expenses of the journey. Altogether, the whole costume betrayed a half-decayed prosperity, a splendor faded and sunken from length of time. The short black skirt of the young woman had once been trimmned.with gold tresses, which now were hanging from it in tatters. The shirt, yel- low with age, was held together under the bo- som by an old gold-embroidered belt, and hung in a bag over the skirt; it was torn in many places, but in spite of its dilapidated state, the sleeves were tied up with red: ribbons, and it was fastened at the throat and wrists with color- ed stones instead of buttons. The breast, too, was adorned with many strings of gay glass beads,, to which were attached, in strange com- bination, a small crucifix, and several Oriental talismans. No stockings covered the feet, and to the yellow boots, which, as the sorig said, were wet with blood, spurs were fastened, indi- cating that a part of her journey was made on horseback.- She did not carry under her arm the medicine-chest with which other gipsy wo? men generally roam through- the land as villageq doctors; her. pilgrimage seemed to have another aim than that of earning her living. Asquare shawl, of the worst -kind of fur, which was illk matched to the rest of her finery, and had obvi- ously only been obtained during the journey, was tied together under her chin, and seemed to be all; that protected her somewhat from the cold. The child, too, otherwise entirely naked, was wrapped in a similar shawl, and it was pain- ful to see how, -of insufficient' size, the covering continually left one or the other limb- exposed. The boy himself, however, seemed to care but little.about it, and, accustomed to every kind of weather, alike insensible to heat and cold, ihe looked about him with a bold, fearless mien. Thus the gipsy now stood beside our heroine1 whose nobly simple form, wrapped in a blue satin fur cloak, her head covered, nun-like, witha thick veil, presented the most striking contrast to the fantastically-grotesque figure of her companion. page: 102-103[View Page 102-103] 102 HU OAjN W-UAKNESS. Mary, with some tenderness, leaned over the poor boy; but he, with childish, ever unbridled impetuosity, struck her in the face with his doubled fist. His mother's reproof was slight: "Quiet, boy," she said, with a half smile, "dost thou strike a woman? It is a bold rogue," she added to Mary. The latter walked on in silence. "Pray tell me, most beautiful lady!" the gipsy again began, "shall- I find the Baron Barcoczy at home in Samosko?" "Which Baron Barcoczy do you mean?" in- quired Mary, while she was considering what to answer. "Oh, I maan the young, handsome one, Em- meric. Who cares for that old werewolf, Ste- phen?" "And what do you want of zmrneric Bar- coczy?" asked Mary, with some misgivings. "I would bring him something that belongs to him." "Do you know him, then?" ! I should think so,' replied the other, with HUMAN WEAKNESS. 108 a significant smile. "As you are going to Sa- mosko so late, you are perhaps his sister, or--" "That I am," said Mary, quickly, filled with a .tormenting suspicion. "' But what are you going to bring him?" The gipsy hesitated a moment. Then she said, boldly: "This little fellow here!" Mary had drawn her veil before her face, but nevertheless the stranger probably noticed a change in her countenance, for she continued: "Judge me not too harshy. Sisters; I know, don't like their brothers to do such things. But so the heart is made. It asks not about rank and fortune, about God and the Church. And look ye, the boy's had a Christian baptism. I had to promise it to Elmmeric when he left me- She turned back the fur in whch she carried the child, and displayed an image of the Virgin which was suspended from his neck. "Is it possible t" rejoined Mary, who had involuntarily stopped. ' mrTmmeric 1"-the most conflicting feelings assailed her heart. page: 104-105[View Page 104-105] 104 HUMAN WEAKNESS. "Do not be too much amazed," continued the other, not without emotion; "tell me, ra- ther, shall I find your brother?" "Fimmeric you will not find, but you will find his wife." As the gipsy did not answer, Mary looked up, and noticed that she had changed color, and pressed her boy close to her breast. "Poor boy!" she said at last. "So he is married! Well, I might have thought it, and I have thought it, a thousand times; but I have been faithful to him for three years, and it may be, one more, and many h fine prize I might have caught. But I didn't like any but him. But Emrneric is good, nevertheless; he will not send away his old, brown truelove. Pity he's not at home.-7 I datSupt go," she added, standing still. "Poor, naked boy I Tell me, is the wife unkind?" Mary was seized, with a deep pity. "That she is not, poor girl," she replied. "Come with me! Where would you go now? You can reach no house before night, and yonder is Sa- mosko." HUMAN WRAwrESS. 105 "My mother told me how it would be," re- joined the -gipsy. "She beat me sore and bloody, but I would not give Rnmmeric up. To be sure he cannot marry me, but he need not have taken another girl, either. He told me, too, a thousand times, that he wouldn't do it;- that he would be a free soldier his whole life long. But he is surely without fault. It must have been a rich girl that he has married, because the emperor took all his fortune away; but in his heart he has kept -only his Kossanya!" "The ,traitor!" cried Mary, deeply agitated by these words. "May your throat ache for ever!" replied the gipsy, angrily;- "what are you railing at your brother for? You're a fine sister. -What are you running about in the road here- so late for?" They were now quite near the house. "Not his sister am I," said Mary, "I am his wedded wife;" and, as if to crush the suspicion of her rival that Emrneric had married her only for her money, she threw back her veil at- these 5, page: 106-107[View Page 106-107] 106 HUMAN WEAXNESS. words, and disclosed the loveliest face in all Hungary. The gipsy stared at her fixedly for a long time, and an indescribable emotion, composed of surprise, grief, and fear, was portrayed in her features. She opened her trembling lips, but not a sound oould be heard.!"Then all is over," she said, at length. "Lady, I will not curse you, but I cannot bless you, either. You are white like the Holy Ghost, and beautiful as a Houri I You needed no enchantments; it was only natural that he desired your love, for your face is shining white, like the snow on the holy mountain; your lips glow like the sun-clouds in the evening sky. But the face is not the best part of us; the heart is worth more yet. And think not that I was always as wan and hag- gard as I stand before you now. Kossanya was a handsome young thing when, she was four- teen years old, and Emmeric Barcoczy first found her washing gold on the banks of the Wallachian Aluta. Her eyes were black like the sloes out in the field, her brows like the HUMAN WEAKNESS. 107 leeches on the sea-shore, and her cheeks like the red wine at the inn. The young fellows, Christians and true believers, were all on fire for her. The Mussulmen would have burnt down a mosque, if she had told them to, and the Raizes and Magyars swore God should strike them dead if they would not swim up the Danube to Vienna for a kiss from Kossanya's lips. But Kossanya loved only the one Chris- tian, and no Turk, nor one of her own people. But when the army went down to- the Zips Comitate, and Emmeric did not come back, nor send her any word, she scratched her face, and tore the hair from her Brows, and wept herself blind, and grieved all her flesh away. Oh, Em- iwric!-Emmeric!" she added, weeping aloud, "thou hast murdered my beauty! oh, Emmeric I thou hast broken my heart! May the holy angels forgive thee! Of me thou shalt hear nothing more, but the poor boy here shall be a Turk!" With these impetuously spoken words she was about to hasten away, but Mary held her back. page: 108-109[View Page 108-109] 108 HUMAN WEAKNESS. "Stay, poor girl," she said, " for your boy's sake remain here to-night; lto-morrow we will talk about the future." "Will he come to-morrow?" asked the brown maiden, hesitating. ' Hardly for a few days," replied Mary. At this moment they were approached by several maid-servants, who, uneasy at their mis- tress's absence, when they saw her with the stranger hastened towards her. No sooner had the gipsy noticed them, than she violently tore herself from Mary's ge:ttle hold, crying in a tone of anguish: "Let me gol they would only mock mel and you too, perhaps, with your saint's look! Co me , com, poor Emmeric's-child I to t- mountain-forest will I, and the cold stone shall be my bed, the white-thorn our evening meal, and the storm will howl our lullaby. Come!-" With the speed of the wind she darted down the castle-hill, and soon the darkness of the night hid the fugitive from Mary's view. Arrived in her chamber, the latter threw HUMAN WEAKNESS. 109 herself into a chair in the most violent emotion. "What have I heard 1" she cried, in a tone of deep grief; "for what a man have I sacrificed my heart, my happiness, and the happiness of my faithful Ferdinand Beloved, at- least, I thought myself; and I share his affection with a miserable vagabond, whose people are the dregs of-mankind: honorable, at least,- lthought him, and -for a contemptible gratification of the senses he sacrifices a poor creature, who now, in this winter's night, is wandering through the mountain forest with bleeding feet, and perhaps cursing me, the innocent one. And to this man I am bound for ever I Oh, Ferdinand! Ferdi- nandl" A slight noise-she looked up, and Ferdi- nand stood- before her. He was in a different costume; an ample travelling-cloak only half covered the imperial uniform. ," Mary," he said quickly, "the moment has come. Delay:not; I have a troop of horsemen with me. I had resolved to- take the house -by storm, if it must be. But all favors my wishes. page: 110-111[View Page 110-111] "O HUMASi WEARNESS. I found gates and doors open, as one of your maids had promised me. Delay not, my only beloved I!" He tenderly embraced the lovely, deathly- pale woman. Weakened beyond power of re- sistance by inexpressible anxiety during the day, excited more violently than ever by the discovery of Emmeric's faithlessness, she sank into the betrayer's arms. "I am thine," mur- mured her trembling lips; "do as thou wilt!" "Then let us hasten, beloved!" cried Ferdi- nand, and bore her to the door. But setting her down here, he added: "Let me, however, also care for our safety. Give me the key to your desk. A moment-only," he continued, as she hesitated, and detached the bunch of keys, which, housewife-like, she wore at her belt. He had soon found the right one, opened a little drawer, and took out several papers regarding Mary's fortune, and also the certificate of her marriage. He seemed, during the week of -his visit, to have informed himself perfectly of every thing.. RUMAN WYAKXESS. Ill Struggling with unconsciousness, Mary did not see what he was doing. She felt herself once more lifted up, and borne through the house, from which all witnesses had been re- moved by the maid whom Ferdinand had bribed. Before the gate several men were waiting, who carried her downa the castle-hill in a sedan- chair which stood in readiness. Below was- a small troop of horsemen, imperial soldiers, to judge from their uniforms. A sleigh here re- ceived the two fugitives, and bore them, under escort of the horsemen, to Fiperies, where they found imperial troops. Meanwhile, Ferdinand had informed Mary that General Karaffa him- self had confided to him these troops, -and that in the camp at Kashau a priest was awaiting them, to place her hand in his. During their short stay in Eperies he tore the certificate .of marriage in pieces before the eyes of Mary, who, confused and burning with shame, could no longer have a will of her own. One thing only she wished; to leave Hungary'as soon as pos- sible. Far from her fatherland, in the noisy life page: 112-113[View Page 112-113] "2 HUMAN WEAKNESS. of the capital, rymoved from every outward ob- ject that might remind her of the past, the poor weak woman hoped sooner to forget. But, ah I if it is true that constant change and the charm of novelty, the ceaseless rolling on of the events around us, the attraction of the beau- tiful which we discover in a new, strange world, can at last strengthen and heal the most deeply wounded heart, as long as it is grif which has en- feebled it; this is not so when guilt has weighed it down: the sting of conscience cannot be with- drawn, with all the exertion of our will; we cannot escape' that pursuing monitress even in the :most -impetuous whirl of changing events and experiences I Ferdinand yielded to Mary's entreaties, re- mained in the camp of Karaffa only long enough to be united to his bride and furnish himself with the most indispensable necessaries, and, protected by the imperial troops stationed every where,; was. so- on o'the frontiert of Austria. , A few weeks after the flight from Samosko,Vienna, wi th- all its gayeties, received the travellers. - , CHAPTER VII. THE FRUITS OF N ERROR. IT is not withouta certain aim that this tale has been carried on, so far, step for step, and that the author has perhaps paused longest at points which seemed of the: least importance. For not the actions themselves are what gives worth to man, or takes it from him; what should gain him our approbation or draw upon him our contempt. Only when we have learned to know well the way which the soul has taken before it arrived at its aim, the deed; only when: we are aware, what outward powers have influenced the formation of; the inward resolution, what seed education and. early, powerful circumstances have strown in each human heart, and in what de- gree Providence hasr made it susoeptible for such page: 114-115[View Page 114-115] "4 HUMAN WRA CNESS. seed; then only may we judge, admire and ap- prover excuse or condemn. Illegal actions, such as we see ETmmeric Bar- coczy commit repeatedly, we will perhaps pardon for the sake of his trueheartedness. But maywe be as lenient towards Mary, who, with the law that binds together civil society, violated at the same time that of religion, of morality, by breaking the most sacred of oaths? We willf we carefully fol- low the path which fate had led the poor girl. It gave her a warm, tender heart, yearning for love, and denied her every means of counter- balancing this heart by a matured understanding, or a free power of will, by bringing her again and again into subordinate circumstances, or such as were forced upon her. It denied her the fufilment of the most ardent wish of her youth, only to fan it, by years of renunciation, to- an incessant fire, and then, in a treacherous moment, to bring- the long-sighed-for object close before her soul. Moving, from her earliest youth, in the most limited circle, she had cherished, longer than reason should admit of, HUMAN WERAKWESS. 115 the youthful fancy that the happiness of love was, her destiny as a woman; a mistake which ra- ther belongs to our time, but to which Mary's individuality subjected her. But even if we might hope, by the circum- stantial statement of inward and outward in- centives, to -clear TEmmeric and absolve Mary, no passion, no pressure of circumstances can excuse the traitor, who, calculating and circum- spectly, called to his aid deceit and cunning, trampled on the sacred rights of hospitality, and tore asunder the still more sacred bond of matrimony. Not the, untamed passion of the human heart, which, bursting out into a flame, spread- ing ruinously, destroys all barriers; not the unbridled force, which, in wild outhreaks of savage roughness, crushes under foot tender blossoms,. lovely flowers,-not these constitute the greatest, the truest evil of the world; it is cold, creeping egotism, heartless selfishness, which, with its attendants, treachery, deceit, and hy- pocrisy., easily bears away the palm, because it page: 116-117[View Page 116-117] "6 HUMAN WIFAKNESS, knows what it is doing, while passion, in blind fuxy, shatters its own weapons. In, the course of two fruit-bringing years Mary had acquired this experience, and had learned to turn it to the saddest account. Her mind only needed the freedom of her present situation to overlook every relation with a sharper, more impartial eye. In the midst of the world and its manifold points of contact, she could not long remain blinded about Ferdinand, The intelligent reader has already, become aware that in the heart of the latter true love had never dwelt. In younger years, when, with a partly esthetic, partly chivalrous development, he had found pleasure in sentimental gallantries, he had looked upon an intrigue with the prettiest girl in Hungary, as an agreeable amusement. Poor Fimself, the idea never once entered his head to marry so poor a girl; neither would he make her miserable, for he was cold, ambitious, and hypocritical, but not sensual. He, therefore, found it quite natural, when old Opray was Qooing Mary, to draw back, and seek a new. to X,*,eek HUMAN WAKWNESS. 117 fortune in- Vienna.. His handsome exterior, his brilliant refinement, soon won him the favor of both sexes; his noble birth, as well as his uncle's authority,- paved the way to the highest posts of honor. But one thing was wanting- fortune. A rich match was to remedy this evil. But this heiress was old and ugly, that one's re- putation was spotted, and the advantages of the match not, important enough to let this be over- looked. His uncle proposed a third, a noble Hungarian lady, related to the families of Counts Zrini and Nadasdi. Her friends were favorably inclined, but the young lady suddenly retired to a convent, and declared from there that she would rather take the veil than be the wife of a man who, a traitor to his country, fawningly sought the favor of the: oppressors, and infa- mously kissed the chastening rod. The uncle was dissatisfied, Ferdinand piqued. Suddenly the latter heard that old Opray was dead-Mary free. His mind was soon made up. He went to Presburg, from one estate of the fair widow to the other, until he at,length heard that. page: 118-119[View Page 118-119] ".8 HUMA WEiAKNESS. another had anticipated him. This blow was-un- expected. The vivid recollection of her weak- ness for him, the consciousness of his fascination and power of dissimulation, had made him so sure of his success that he had even allowed him- self, in an unguarded -moment, to speak with certainty of the object of his journey. His honor was at stake. Rather venture every thing than expose himself to the ridicule of the court by returning without a wife. That it was not love which kept Mary in Samosko, could be sup- posed from the manner of her marriage; and so her would undertake to waken the feelings which were perhaps slumbering within her. The Barcoczys' position at court, the disjunction of all legal relations in a time of civil wars, seemed to guard him from all dangerous conse- quences. Arrived at Samosko, he soon saw how his affairs stood: all that was wanted, was to re- move the baron for a few days. Theokeoli's capture by Seitan Pasha gave him occasion to HUMAN- WEAKNESS. 119 strike a chord in Emmeric's generous heart, that would not fail to vibrate a response. In truth, the count intended only to effect a reconciliation with the Porte, not to desert it. Ferdinand, as a member of the committee for Hungarian affairs, was well acquainted with Theokeoli's handwriting. His friends in Ka- raffa's camp easily procured him one of the count's intercepted' letters to his wife in Mon- cacz, the writing of which he carefully imitated. Too well versed in the human heart, with artful design he put Mary, by anxiety, 'disappoint- ment, and suspense, into that state of enervation which entirely deprives a loving woman of her will. The gipsy's appearance aided his plan, without his knowledge. - Thus fate itself seemed- to come to his assistance, and lead his victim to the brink of the precipice. Mary was never informed of these particu- lars, it is true, but her own penetration could not long conceal from her that she might ex- pect every kind of dishonesty from her husband. She saw him, with avaricious zeal, appropriating page: 120-121[View Page 120-121] 120' HUMAN T.. RAKNWESS. her estates, the value of which he seemed to be -acquainted' with tothe smallest particular. In observing- his position at court, the fact. could not escape' her that he was only made a tool of, but, though :covered with distinctions, was by no means truly esteemed. His present wealth, and the merit of being a traitor to his country, soon gained him a count's title; but the empe- ror did not like him, and the better ones among tfie courtiers avoided, to say the least, any ap- proach to intimacy. The hatred of his country- men was more openly shown. The houses of the first- among them were closed to him; and even those Hungarian noblemen who manifested true devotion to the imperial family, partly for their personal advantage, partly because they thought it the wiser course even these, in their hearts, despised thie man who, with untir- inag-skill, helped the oppressor forge- the chains. All this Mary felt, and it could not be otherwise than that the consciousness of her having seen through him, had also some effect on Ferdinand' behavior towards' her. HUMAN WrArTESS. Already in the beginning it often seemed to her as if he wished rather to boast of her beauty, than that his heart rejoiced at it. Her timidity, her want of tact, made him impatient and put him out of humor, and only when she had shone and been admired at assemblies or public. places, he again assumed towards 'her the gallant, tender, and insinuating tone, which once, alas, had had for her-such a seducing charm. But as her esteem for him diminished, he too did not judge it worth the while to continue to play his part. By degrees there arose a coldly polite relation between them, which already at that, time was not .seldom found-in the great worldl Husband, and wife frequented separate circles, hardly met but at meals -.and two years after the flight from Samoskb, the most sharp-sight- ed observer could not have suspected under what, circumstances their, marriage had taken place. ... No words cant express- what Marys cruelly deceived heart suffered during -this time. The present weighed upon it heavily, 'and-no glane 6 page: 122-123[View Page 122-123] 122 HUMAN W ATNESS. into the future could raise it up, none into the past console it-night every where! The greatest misery which can befall a woman, is to love a bad man. The true essence of her love isthe total abnegationof her own will, the immer- sion of all self-dependence in the self of the belov- ed object. Woe to the heart if it then falls out with the'better qualities of mankind I With her faith in the moral worth of the man she loves, a wo- man loses all the happiess of love. As long as the better element is not entirely lost in him, if it is perhaps the rough power of a passion, what- ever be its name, that ruined him, if the brute has perhaps gained in him a momentary ascend- enoy over the man, and drags him to the depth of destrultion, or even into the slime of low vulgarity; in this case, it seems almost as if, be- side the lost esteem, there might still exist, in the tenderest heart, an'affection for the ruined object. It is only that the flame does not shine any more no more, with magic brightness, illu- mines the world around it I That it can only, like a deceptive heap of secretly glowing em- HUMAT WEAKNESS. 1-23 bers, consume the heart which harbors it against its will. But fatal to every loving weakness in a woman's breast, is .creeping treachery, calcula- ting, deluding craftiness, when she has once recognized them under their mask.- In the cold hands of low egotism the heart turns -to ice. Love is dead. We are cured-but are we happy? Thus, by degrees, every sensation of love for Ferdinand was extinguished in' Mary'sbosom, and, when she looked back upon the obstinacy with which she had, for-so many years, held fast an unconquerable passion for him, she'had to confess to herself, that among all the riddles of Nature, man is the most incomprehensible. She had all now that she had so longed for in early youth: the possession of her lover, the enjoyment of all the treasures of art, of every thing beautiful riches, splendor,honor besides-- but all these did not make her happy. She retired more and more from society, in the worth of which only those at a distance can be mistaken, and now only, when she had nothing more to wish and hope for herself; solitude was salutary page: 124-125[View Page 124-125] 124 ^i HUMAN WAKNESS. to her. Formerly the hours which she had spent alone had been filled .up with dreams of love, tears, lamenting, fantastic chimeras; now only she learned to look about her, to examine her heart, and to think. i* CHAPTER VIII. HSTORICAL. ONE object, however, still remained, which she looked upon with the more enthusiasm the far- ther it was removed from her by time. It was Emmeric, whose figure stood out clearly -from the darkness around her. Not that her feelings for her injured husband had now taken the form of love. Her heart, so bitterly schooled, seemed no more susceptible of this sensation. But there was enough of the chivalresque in Enmmeric to make him appear, regarded from a certain point of vision, surrounded by a halo, which was brightened by his noble zeal for his religion and his country, and which the con- sciousness of her guilt made almost too dazzling for Mary. Even the appearance :of the gipsy page: 126-127[View Page 126-127] 126 HUMAN WEAKNESS.- she now looked at in a totally different light. Had he not himself joyfully acknowledged that love only had ennobled him, had made him a better man?--love for her? And did not poor Kossanya say that she had not heard from him since he went to the county of Zips? Had he not there become acquainted with her? and if he had erred, was it towards her? His supposed intention, too, to join Theokeoli again, she now regarded with altered judgment. Now only an extended knowledge of history had made her understand the struggle of the Hunga- rians. Old Opray had seen, in the-resistance of the nation, a culpable rebellion; she had believed his word; and without ever considering who was right here, and who wrong, the more refined customs of the strangers had pleased her better than the unpolished manners of her countrymen. In the obscurity of ideas of a youthful female mind, her heart, in this way, had taken the part of the strangers. - But among them, at a distance, her country became dear, sacred to her. She had to look upon herself as an exile, for the .conscious- HUMAN WEAKNESS. 127 ness of her sin against him whom she-- regarded as its representative, deprived her of all courage ever to wish to return to it. But she sent all her wishes there, where discontent and displea- sure were commencing to stir again more briskly. It is true, the more enlightened her ideas be- came, the more she learned to recognize the im- perfection, even perniciousness of a constitution which only favors a few privileged classes, while it treads to the ground the real liberty of the pa- triotic citizen, and checks every iumprovement and elevation of the people. On the other hand, many of the institutions of the government seemed better adapted to the times, and only inju- rious to those who merely saw themselves enrich- ed at the'expenseof thers. But it was not for these others that the crown was fighting; it was care- ful of its own advantages alone, and if a general revolution from the interior seemed beneficial, indeed, necessary, one brought about by out- ward forces, the object of which was only an exchange of monarchs, could not be desirable for the patriot. page: 128-129[View Page 128-129] 1:28 H-UMAj WRA K N ISS. Of Ermmeric Mary heard nothing. She had not the courage to make open inquiries about him. Count Theokeoli had succeeded in justi- fying himself to the Grand-Seignior; he was set at liberty, and was soon again in full activity. The Seraskier of Rumelia was punished. for his treachery. I:He. sent word to General Karaffa that Theokeoli was not only -taken, prisoner, but that he ,had been executed; and requested the promised reward. The whole court was at that time occupied with an amusing anecdote about the bad Latin which the interpreter had spoken, caling. his master Seitan .Pasha, whenever he mentioned him, with much pathos, meus dominth Pashd Satanas. Upon which Count Karaffaan- swered him ironically: Si quidem facinus patraT turnm est; quid jam mihi cum Satana? (When the deed-is done what more have I to, do with Satan?) But the Seraskier was to meet with a still severer punishment. He had acted, it is Itrue, partly -with' the sanction of the court, but :the Grand-Seignior, once more favorably inclined UfA N WEAKNESS. 129 towards Theokeoli, forgot all the services which the former had rendered him in Poland, and ordered him to be strangled, in order to render satisfaction to the count. An apology was made to the latter before the assembled army, and in- demnification promised him. Thus fortune seem' ed once more to smile upon him; but during his captivity Kashau had been lost; Transylvania had attached'itself to the emperor, and the Christian army was every where victoriously repelling the Infidels. At length all Vienna, all Germany, was filled with pride and joy at the taking by storm of Buda, which the Turks had occupied for years. But few fortresses still kept their ground; every eye was directed with interest towards Moncacz, a castle which was well defended by nature and the resolute courage of the fair Helena Zrini, the wife of Theokeoli Among the, few -adherents who were left to Count Theokeoli under these circumstances, Stephen: BaregSa wasalso named, who, as Mary: heard, was held in great consideration by s633 i page: 130-131[View Page 130-131] 130 HUMA WEA KNESS. the Turks themselves. No on'e spoke of Em- meric. The-court thought it advisable to take the best advantage of this state of things that they could. Suddenly there arose a rumor of a new conspiracy in favor of Theokeoli, which seemed again to have originated with the Protestants. But it was soon found to be much more general than any of the former ones; it might be, that the want of discipline among the German troops stationedc in their unhappy country, had driven the-- injured Hungarians to the utmost, or that this conspiracy only had its foundation in the mistrust and -policy of the court. Before they knew it, all those nobles of whom there was the least reason to suspect that they had. any con- nection with' Count Theokeoli, were arrested; and in those cities which were thought to be the principal seats of the plot, such as Presburg, Kashau, Eperies, and some othes, no citizen I was allowed to leave the gatesiltess in company of a guarantee. All the prisons were filled with the most consequential men, the richest land' HUMAN WMARNESS. 31. holders of Hungary. None of the forms pre- scribed by the constitution were any longer ob- served; and no one dared to demand them, for fear of being punished as a rebel. A court of justice was established at Debreczin, at the head of which stood General Karaffa himlef, and which was composed of some few Hungarians, and several foreigners. Every kind of torture, the detailed description of which our readers will willingly dispense with, had to serve for extort- ing confessions from prisoners. If these impli- cated only others, the unhappy:.victims might succeed in purchasing their liberty for exorbitant sums; which made them beggars for life. But if the slightest word against themselves escaped the tortured men, a speedy death on the scaffold put an end to their pain, and the imaginary danger of their existence. Bloodier still was the, tribunal of Eperies which, instituted a month later, continued its fearful activity from March till the end of the year. A place of judgment was prepared in the midst of the city; a staging erected, which, page: 132-133[View Page 132-133] 132 HU-MANu WA KNESS. known -in Hungarian history-as the Stage ofipe. ries, served as the scene for the last act but one of this bloody tragedy. Spreading panic every where, there were scattered over the city near thirty men clad in green, all executioners or their servants; and dragoons or other armed riders were scouring the country, bearing off Protes- tants, Catholics, and Greeks, without distinction -as soon as the shadow of suspicion, or the hatred of one of the members of the tribunal, fell upon them-from church, from their houses, from the chase, wherever they were found. Singular, however, it was, that not- one of -these was found under arms, or in a state of de- fence. Pronounced guilty, after a short trial, without convincing proofs, without confession, of high treason and the crime of having sought the assistance of Theokeoli, of the Turks affd the Tartars, the unhappy victims had their sen- tence read to them only on the scaffold, and-then in the German language. Thus the flower of no- bility was crushed, the strength of the nation broken. At the head of this -tribunal Count HUMAN WAKNESS. 183 Karaffa was again stationed; but its most active member was Count Ferdinand Szentirany. The coupl could-not have made a choice bet- ter suited to their purpose. Unbridled ambition caused Ferdinand not to scorn any means of ob- taining the favor of the mighty; frequently ex- perienced hatred and -contempt had roused in him an -unnatural bitterness against his own countrymen. Mary had no suspicion of the steps on which the government had resolved; nevertheless she was struck with fear when she heard that the punishment of her land was partly,in her husband'S hands. - Dared she hope to induce him to be lenient? - With horror she rejected his proposal that she should accompany him to Hungary. For did not Eperies lie but a few miles from Samosko? She feared' for her people, she trembled for lFnmmeric. She gathered together -her whole force for a conversati6n with Ferdinand,- in which she bound:, Vfmneric's fate on his heart, and conjured- hm, by all that was holy, to insure life and liberty, if one or the other should. be page: 134-135[View Page 134-135] HUMAN .WJATNESS. endangered, to the man so deeply injured by them both. Ferdinand replied to her with a few cold jokes, giving himself, from hJ solicitude for her former husband, the burlesque air of the jealous man in the Italian comedy. Mary's heart shuddered; yet she mastered this feeling, continued her tears and entreaties, and did not cease, until, tired of her importunity, he had given her his word to defend both Barcoczys in every possible way. His wife felt but too well how little this came from his heart; a thousand times she was on the point of accompanying himso 'as to influence rnmmeric's fate by her presence, by her fortune. But she recoiled from the thought of meeting one of the brothers again; she trembled at the idea of seeing her- self greeted, in every contemptuous glance of her .countrymen, as the wife of a traitor, as an apostate. On the one hand the aversion which Eimmeric had to the Turkish alliance, reas- sured her with regard to his fate, as also the circumstance of her having heard nothing about him; since- her flight, convinced her that he HUMAN WEAKNESS. -135 had, till now at least, not been active in the Turkish army. And on the other hand, her soul could not conceive the idea of even the most corrupted heart hating and persecuting doubly those whom it is conscious of having wronged. Again and again she came back to the conclu- sion, that Ferdinand himself must rejoice at this opportunity of ridding himself of at least a part of the burden, which, in lonely hours, must necessarily weigh heavily upon his heart. She therefore resolved to visit, during her husband's absence, the estates in Bohemia which he had lately bought,- and the beautiful situation of which she had heard much spoken of. -Both commenced their journeys on the same day, and the parting, on Mary's side, was not without violent agitation. On her Bohemian estates, close by the Lusa- tian frontier, the young countess spent several months; and the loneliness of a country life had no more any thing repulsive to her. Faithfully she executed her husband's commissions, which had in view the improving of every advantage, page: 136-137[View Page 136-137] 186 HUMAN WA1TKN SS. or the embellishment of gardens and buildings: but her heart was not in this business; a new object attracted it, and showed her, afar off, the hope of regaining the lost peace of her mind. The time -was not yet past in Germany, in which a heartfelt longing for the one thing need- ful was predominant; individuals thought them- selves too weak for so important and difficult an. undertaking; the sentiments of the mass of the people could not satisfy them: and thus, long since, congregations had been quietly formed, -and pious Christians, allied in need and death, stretched out to each other a helping hand; when sinful man stumbled on the road to eternal sal- vation. Cruel persecutions had driven the Bo- hemian Brethren, humble descendants of the heroic Hussites, whose pious, exemplary life and Christian zeal had distinguished them beiore all others, from their homes in Bohemia and Moravia. In Prussia and Poland, cnd atlast in Saxony, they had found the wished-for asylum; and there they strove and labored unceasingly: plodding on' with limited view,. but *faithfil H UM1 ::WiWAiNE$S. :!87 hearts and. firm steps, towards the one, the high- est aim;.: But there were still some; families who, remaining m their native land, had escaped the suspiciouL and idissatisfied glances Qf the govern- ment, by quiet retirement and humble in-- stry. Quite near Mary's abode they had once more formed a small congregation, and, little attached to worldly things, they seemed ever ready to leave their property, in order, by flying beyond the frontier, to save what they deemed the salva- tion of their souls. Mary's attention was soon directed to them. She allowed them to erect a small chapel on her lands. In the beginning she sometimes attended their meetings to become acquaint- ed with their doctrines; but soon the pious simplicity of the persecuted brethren acquired an irresistible attraction for her heart, agitated as it had been by so'many violent storms. In her childhood and first youth religion had been but a mechanical observance of duty. Later in life, her husband's doubts had lessened for her also the sanctity of the positive part page: 138-139[View Page 138-139] 188 fHUMAN WFAXNtESS. of it. The resignation alone, which her fate, brought about by her own errors, imposed upon her, had- made her feel the necessity of faith, and here at length she seemed to find some satisfaction. CHAPTER IX. I fc A [MESSAGE. THUS the summer had passed away, and a part of winter. ' The peaceful quiet of this year had only been interrupted by the terrible news from Hungary, which announced to Mary the bloody ruin of her country, and named- her own hus- banu as its principal tool. Atlength the coro- nation of King Joseph put an end to the execu- tions. The Hungarians resigned their freedom of election, and the stage of Eperies'was taken down. Shortly after, the revolution of the year brought back' to Mary the day on which she had once left Samosko. She still observed it, with the most painful -reminincences,- and it seemed to her a cruel freak of accident, when a page: 140-141[View Page 140-141] "O HUMAN WWAKNESS, servant announced that a gipsy-woman wished to see her. But quickly the thought of Kossanya flashed across her mind. "Let her come in," she said, and her voice trembled. The woman entered, but it was not the young, blooming Kossanya. Could she have changed in three short years, to this careworn figure, on which grief had stamped its seal? Yellow and withered, the skin of the cheeks hung around the- bone, a gloomy and sickly glance, was in her eye. ,The-black braids had been cut off, and a tattered garment hardly covered the limbs, bent by sorrow... In the dim evening twilight, Mary did not recognize poor Kossanya under this terribly altered form. Did she not think that she had drained the cup of grief to the last drop? Had she not wept away whole days and nights, and yet bloomed on in undciminished beauty? Oh, that sorrow, which, increased to the delirium of fever, to insanmty, seizes upon natures. in whom burns'a southern fireTthe gnawing, annihilating grief which, in one short summrer's night, can make the hair turn white and fall away, wither" the cheeks, and dry up the lovely fulness of youth--of such anguish she, had never had ,an idea. But Kos- sanya had been cursed by -nature with the capa-: city of feeling despair in all its horror; with pen of iron it had marked the unfortunate woman as its victim,. . "What do you wish, my good woman?'" asked Mary, in a gentle tone.-. "Did I not think so?" said Kossanya; and a bitter smile played around her mouth. .' But I still know you, Countess Szentirany. :You :are just as milk-white and beautiful yet, as when you once stood before me;:in .the' Carpathian mountains, as the wife of Rmrnneric Bareoozy." "Kossanya!--You 1! cried :Mary, turning pale. "Jesus my Saviour 1 how came you here?" "I, have. sought, you, fairest countess," said the gipsy, " in your imperial city, in your pa- lace, on your estates. Your servants have pushed me here and there. They thought I wanted to tell your fortune, and ordered- me to page: 142-143[View Page 142-143] HUMAN WRA NESS. tell theirs. But the ground burned under me, and I would not-for five months it is now that I have been seeking you. And then they sent the brown witch to the devil, as they said. But I've spied you out at last now 1" " And what do you want of me, Kossanya ?" inquired Mary. " Can I serve you, poor wo- man? Tell me-or-do you bring news of-" " Of Emmeric, mean you? You have guessed well! That I have sought you every where among men, and without resting, when I had rather hidden myself in the thick forest or under the ground in the cold grave-think you that I did it for my own pleasure? Nol by the. prophetl Fair as you are, and gentle, the sight of you is loathsome to me! The glance of your eye wounds me like a dagger'; poison breathes on me from your sweet lips, when you open them. But I have promised it to Em- meric I he made me swear to him by my gods and his that I would follow you to the ends of the earth." "You come in FTmmeric's name, unhappy HUMAN WEAKWESS. 1438 creature ?" asked Mary, trembling, and sinking into a chair. " Tell me, what do you bring me ?" " This I bring you !" replied the gipsy, tak- ing from her bosom an embroidered handker- chief, which had once been white, but now was' thickly dyed with dark blood. " Take it," she said, in a penetrating tone- " take it, countess! FEmmeric sends it to you as a last love-token. It is Emmeric's heart's- blood that has dyed the kerchief. When his head rolled in the dust to the other heads, and the thick, hot blood sprang up in a jet from the body, I dipped it in for you. For so he would have it !" "Day of judgment!" murmured Mary's trembling lips. But her benumbed hands had not the power to take the handkerchief. The gipsy threw it into her lap. "My errand is fulfilled," she continued. "Do you shudder? Does terror seize you? Weep you tears for him whom you alone have sacrificed ?-Rejoice now at your work, with that villain, your infamous husband, Whom the page: 144-145[View Page 144-145] "4 HUMAN. WAXKNESS. corse of thousands rests upon!-If only he lives long enough 1" she added, with a dreadful sneer---"Throw: the kerchief in the well; that will make it clean again; and you can give it to the murderer on his happy return, when he caresses you, and.'enjoys your whiteness and beauty I Butif he only lives long enough 1" "Woman I thou art terrible!" said Mary, rousing herself from partial unconsciousness. "The All-Merciful, who has long since looked into my broken and contrite heart, may judge between thee .and me I Happy am I that He is more metriful than. you my fellow-mortals 1" The gipsy looked perplexed; but she quickly turned with firm steps, and was about to leave the room. "I will not let thee go l"' cried Mary, start- ing up. "Oh, Kossanya, if thou art humnan- if thou art a woman--I beseech thee, tell me more--tell me all!" Kossanya looked wildly around her:-- "Here," -she cried, " on these silken carpets, within these walls of splendor they are to rest, HUMAN WREATu ESS. 145 the wearied, broken limbs! Let Aie go out into the forest, let me hide in the tents of my peo- ple! There I can sob and shriek-there I can roll on the ground and howl! But I will not do it any more l-oh, I am free now --oh!" Poor maiden'!" said Mary, forgetting for a few moments her own fate in that of Kossanya, -" poor maiden Hoh, remain here!-go not from me in anger, Kossanya; collect thy spirits. I will not let thee go until thou hast learned to forgive my wretched heart!" With these words hot tears dropped from her eyes on the maiden's hands, which she had lovingly grasped. Kossanya fixed on her immo- vably the most disconsolate gaze, and the unac- customed sympathy at length melted her frozen heart. The hard features, the convulsive qui- vering of grief, were dissolved in streams of scalding tears, which gradually grew more and more gentle. Before long the two weeping women were seated opposite each other, and Kossanya related her sad story. Anxiously did Mary listen for a 7' page: 146-147[View Page 146-147] 4I HMANt WEAKNESS. word about Fnmmeric, but she had not the cou- rage tointerrupt the poor girl, when she devoted also to her own sufferings a few words of la- ment. "When you put back your veil, there in the mountains," she began,'" and I saw your face, I knew that all was over, for. you were the sun, I:the: moon. You were the Danube--in its proud waves the fortunate may bathe-I. the little brook in the rocky cleft: no one sees it, but the wanderer who loses his way in the mountain-forest. E How could poor Kossanya compare herself to you? You were the white dove, which is the Holy Ghost, and I the gray cuckoo, that must lament allhis lifetime. Then rand into the woods with the boy, and groaned and shrieked; but the boy got unrulyt and Would go back among other people, and beat me, and shouted at me. Then I bethought myself what I should do. For look ye, I first came from Rumelia, but Ive been about a good deal elsewhere-behind Sarajewo, in Bosnia, I 'HUMiA WEAKNESS.147 stayed longest-but it was only in the Walla- hian country that I really lived, for there I first aw Frnimeric, who had come there in his flight with young Count Theokeoli. Ahl the count vas beautiful as St. John-the fairest among he fair-but I liked Barcoczy better. When looked into his eyes H thought I was look- ng into the Aluta, in May, when the days are lear and warm. So, you see, I did not just :now where to go. to, because I had no home any there. I wanted to go back to my mother. 'he was angry to be sure, when I loved Em- aeric, and beat me when I wouldn't love any ther, and wouldn't hear of the Hospodar's son ven, who offered my mother a deal of money )r Kossanya, but she loved me, nevertheless.; nd, countess, we must all have one in the world iat loves us, else it is a thousand times better to e dead. And while I am sitting and thinking, ie boy comes running up joyfully, and cries: Mother I there are some of our people near ' ad pulls me up, and drags me on ltill we come page: 148-149[View Page 148-149] "8 HUMAN WTERA TTESS. to a whole horde of Sindes,' who are lying by a fire and eating their dinner. With them I tra- velled on to the borders of Transylvania. One evening there is a great rejoicing among the people, and the boy comes to me, scream- ing:-'Mother, they have found dead bodies, with splendid dresses, and there's a Hungarian nobleman among them; from him they took the most. And I crept along too, and filched a ring, a great thick one; I pulled it from his finger.' When I heard that I said: ' Thou 'scoundrel I art- a nobleman's child thyself, and art not ashamed to steal? Give it to -me. For- that gold ring we'll have the poor man buried, as the Christians like it, in' a graveyard, because there's a village near.' Then the boy was ashamed; for, you see, I had. always told him stealing was bad, and would never do for noble- men's children. And when he gave me the ring I thought the lightning had struck me, for * Sindes is the name by which the gipsies call them- selves. (Sindd-Indus.) HUMAN W ACWESS. 49 there were the arms of the Barcoczys on it, and on the back a Latin device. It was the same ring that I had seen a thousand times on Em- meriC's finger, when I kissed his dear hand in the days of our love. I ran to him, and there they were all gathered' round him, like the ravens round a body on the gallows; but I lchased them all away, and I knew 'Rnneric, and threw myself upon him, and bathed him with my tears. And when I had lain so awhile,- I feel that he is not dead; his breast moves, and his lips and hands. Oh, lady I for that mo- ment, for that joy, I have not suffered too much! It outweighs a whole life of sorrow I "Broad, deep wounds he had in his head and sides, and the whole man was bathed in blood. When the Sindes heard that he was alive they got angry, but they did not hurt him, and I would not let them go till they had given me back all his things. Then we made him a bier, and a good soul helpeu mne carry him to the vil. lage. There I put him in a chamber, on straw, and covered him up with his fur coat and my page: 150-151[View Page 150-151] 150 HUMAN WRARNESS. blankets. Lady! now came a time, such as ones would hardly wish one's enemies to have in hell. I know not how long it was before he first opened his eyes again; how long before I could pour some of my potions down his throat; how long before he got his speech again; but I know that the warm spring had come again before he re- cognized his poor Kossanya once more. Every day; he thrust a dagger through my heart until, then; -but after that its point was dipped in cor- roding poison. If I made his bed more easy for him, while the fever rage was yet burning up his poor brain, he would say to me: ' Thy hand is soft, my Mary!' When I gave him a cooling drink, he would say: 'II thank thee, my Mary l' and all the time he spoke and dreamt of you, and thought not of poor Kossanya. But I cared not for that, and stayed by him faithfully. But when he came to himself again I had worse things to bear. For he was frightened when he recognized me!--ohj I believe it was a reproach to him to see me!--but I did not upbraid him, neither did I show him the poor boy. I thought, HUJMA WArWNESS. 151 first thou must be well again, and then I will ask thee if thou hast a father's heart; but he could hardly wait for the time: eversand :anon he would say:? Can I not ride soonigood Kos- sanya?' and, ' How far may it be to Unghwar?' Now he spoke no: more of you, and I did not tell him that I knew you, but I tould see that he was almost worn out with longing. -And all the good my salves and potions had done, was undone again by the fire in his -bosom. :So one day after the other passed away, and if he want- ed to rise, leaning on my arm, he could not, for weakness, until at last he was well enough to mount a horse again. "Oh, lady I I have done for him what was in my power. I have prayed and kneeled for him in the morning to the Holy Virgin, at noon to the Prophet, and at night to St. Martin Lu. ther; for he, you know, was his real guardian saint-he has founded the church that Emmerie belongs to.- One, I thought, must help the poor young soul. But at night I went to gather herbs by moonlight at the cross-road, or at - m page: 152-153[View Page 152-153] 152 HUMAN WEAKNESS. midnight in the graveyard, and then I made potions and salves, and that, I think, was-what did him most good, after all. But I dared not let him see it; for if he found out any thing about it, he got quite wild, and called me a brown witch, and scolded me, and said that such infernal drugs would ruin his soul, even'if his body was saved. And oh! I meant it so well I You see, countess, that is the curse that is on us, that every one rails. at us and despises us. They say our race once refused a shelter to the Holy Virgin and the Saviour in their flight, and others declare that in very ancient times it sin- ned- against Brama, sand therefore it is cursed, with all its descendants to the thousandth gene- ration. And so we must- bear the pmnishment for others' sins." "Poor misguided maiden," interrupted Mary, "-think not that -the God of mercy visits the iniquity of the fathers on their children. Hear what'he saith: 'The soul that sinneth, it shall die. The son' shall not bear the in- iquity of the father, neither shall the father bear O . HUMAN WEAKNESS. 158 the iniquity of the son; the righteousness of the righteous shall be upon him, and the wicked- ness of the wicked shall be upon him I' "But tell me this one thing--who had put Imrmeric into this sad, helpless state, and what led him to the borders of Transylvania?" The gipsy continued: "He had received a letter from the captive count; but I know now, it was not from Theokeoli; a traitor's hand had written it. It summoned him to his rescue, and called him to Veresmart. But here he did not find his friends; and he thought they had not had courage for the enterprise, and resolved that he would undertake it alone with his four servants, and that, with stratagem, they would succeed. Ask me not to tell you farther, how, in this fool- hardy undertaking, he became suspicious to the Seraskier, and got into difficulty--night is fall- ing, and I'm not near the end yet.- In short, he had to fly for his life; the dogs, the Turks, had overtaken him, and cut him down, together with his horses and servants. "When he could at length sit on a horse 7- page: 154-155[View Page 154-155] 154: HiUMAN WEAENESS. again, Irode with him through the whole of Bihar, and farther yet, but when we came to the Theiss I left him, and bid him farewell. Then he thank- ed me very much, and wanted to take-my boy with him. But I thought: he will be knocked about, and have to sleep out in the stable, and- wait on the children of the white lady--no, bet- ter far that he should be a wild Sinde all the days of his life. And so I rode -back with the boy, and straightway to Bessarabia, and thought, the farther off the better. There I supported myself and 'the Emmeric's-child honestly, by doctoring, and was successful with men and beasts; I went up to Stamboul, too, and earned many a fair piece of-money. But at the bottom of my heart there was always the deep grief, and it slept with me wherever I laid my poor head, and-awoke with me in the morning. At last I could not bear it longer; I thought once more - At r -ir life I must see how things had gone with "Poor man Sadly enough hadst thou also faredl! How did the fire of longing and yearning HUMAN - WREAWNESS. 155 draw'him on to Samosko-and he found the house of his love desolate and forsaken! Oh, lady, lady! how could you make that exchange? You broke the wings of the eagle, and said: 'fly away, the night-raven shall be my birdl' But, poor lady! you did not know that the night-raven lives on dead bodies!-well, do not weep so bitterly! see, I cannot spare you this pain. I must fain cut you and prickyou -with my words. If you were well, it would not harm you much. But you are sore, and so the blood flows in streams from the tiny wounds. "They say Emmneric acted like one possessed of the devil, when-he found out his loss. But soon he mounted his steed, and searched through all Hungary, and Poland, and Germany, for you. And when, at length, he came back, he lived in Samosko solitary like a hermit, and read a good deal in the Bible, and cared no more for the af- fairs of the world. At last they built the Bloody Stage of Eperies; old Karaffa himself soon had enough of it, but your husband sat at the head and did not tire of seeing men beheaded and page: 156-157[View Page 156-157] 156 HUMAN WRATNESS. broken on the wheel, and quartered, and tor- tured.: The poor baron, too, they had taken from Samosko-not because, years ago, he had been Theokeoli's friend-for that they couldn't do it, fr he had been pardoned for it in Pres- burg-but because his brother, the old one, is much thoughts of by the Turks; for that Em- meric was to pay. But they only said so-the real reason was, because the coward Szentirany trembled at the vengeance of the injured man.' He thought: the dead cannot take vengeance-- but he deceived himself terribly, the traitor 1. "When I got to Eperies, they were just say- ing that the y6unger Barcoczy had been brought to town, and was to be tried the second day after. One silver coin after the- other I offered. the jailers. I thought: thou hast come in a lucky hour; but the hour was black-for they would not let me in. The day came, and there was a crowd of people in the court-room, and I went among them, so that I could see him. The blood rushed to my heart when I saw him led in, with a green scoundrel on each side of him. But HUMAN WEArNESS. 167 he looked calm, and confident, like one that thinks: they can't harm me I And in the chair at the head sat your husband, the traitor; but Em- meric did not know him at first, for he was splen- didly attired, and all hung over with gold chains of honor, and gay ribbons, and crosses. So he stepped up before him with a light heart. But now the president began to speak; and Ernme- ric looked up and fixed his eye upon him, and his gaze grew steadier and-steadier, and deeper and deeper, so that it'made the coward begin to stammer, and his voice tremble. Then Em- meric recognized him, and like a falcon he pounced upon him, and held him tight in his two strong, manly arms, and cried with a voice that made the hall sound again: 'Is it here that I meet thee, infamous villain I Have I found thee at last ' And so he choked him and shook him, till the traitor-blood rushed from the count's mouth and nose, and would have killed him straightway, had not the green ones thrown themselves upon the poor prisoner, and torn'him away. But it took six of them tP hold page: 158-159[View Page 158-159] 158 - HUMAN WEAKNESS. him, for he beat about him, and raved, as if the evil one had entered into him. The president groaned: 'Put fetters on him!'--and 'put him in the deepest dungeon I So they put chains on his hands and feet; but it was not such an easy thing to take him away. He talked to the other judges, and cursed the count,-it was in Latin, so I could not understand it well, but I could see that some of them were moved, and the others cried: ' Take him away, take him away!' "In the evening he was sentenced. Then I said to myself: now's your time Hand I took all my red gold and gave it to the jailers, till they let me in. Countess! that sight I shall never forget! I was born and bred in-clay huts, but in such a hole I had never tried to breathe. My heart was near bursting when I saw the hero lying there, in chained power, on the damp, poisonous straw. His eye flashed fire, and his brow glowed, when I stooped over him, and he knew the poor brown maiden. "'Is it thou, good Kossanya?' he asked- OW HUMAN WEAKNESS. 159 'Thou art welcome! God -hmself hath sent thee I Welcome, messenger of Heaven l' "I thought he had gone mad with anger, and said to him: 'Master, be calm, it is I. I have come to ask you if you have any messages to leave, or any thing to order or to think of in this world. Give me your commands, my master.' "He answered, grinding his teeth: 'Thou hast done right, Kossanya! Thanks, thanks, good Kossanyal' And he took the great gold ring from his finger, with the family-arms, and asked, 'Is my son with thee?' 'Yes, master,' I answered. 'Give him this ring,' he said; 'he is but a young lad, or he himself should avenge me. But so he must be satisfied, as the messe.- ger of vengeance, to seek the avenger. Far away, among the Turks-where, I cannot tell- dwells Stephen Barcoczy. Let the boy go with- out delay, and seek the elder Barcoczy, and when he finds him he shall give him the ring, and say Emmeric had sent it to him; that he must leave every thing else, and not rest nor page: 160-161[View Page 160-161] 160 StMXAN WEAKNES. tarry, not cleanse himself, not shave his beard, until he has avenged the youngest son of -his father on the traitor Szentirany. But the boy he is to adopt, and be his father for Emmeric's sake, and bring him up in the Lutheran faith. Dost thou promise this, Kossanya? Swear to me by the agony of our Saviour, and by thy gods, Kossanya!' "' I swear that I will do all this, my master, by every god, whatever be his name,' I said, and then I asked: ' Is there aught more on your heart?' - Then he untied that kerchief from about his neck, pressed it to his eyes and mouth, and said: 'Swear to me, by the same oath, one thing more, maiden' "I did as he wished. "To-morrow, at early dawn, come to the scaffold, and when-the headsman's axe severs my head from the body, dip this handkerchief into my blood. Then go thy way, and give no rest to thy feet, nor repose to thy head, until, thou hast found Mary, once my wife. Give her HUUMA WEArNESS. " this, the last legacy of the betrayed. She once gave it to me, a birth-day present, worked by her own delicate hands. Where'er thou may'st find her, in the lustful arms of the murderer, or on his corpse in tears, give it to her, and greet her' from Emmmeric I!" A long silence ensued, which was only broken by Mary's sobs. At length Kossanya continued. "( Grieve not, weep not-you are the happy one, for he loved you! We parted, and for Kossanya he had not a word, not a thought. A Lutheran priest came in to shrive him. He looked at me as if I had done -something bad; been bewitching him, as they call it, or making love. But I did not care, and went my way quietly. "The next day, at early dawn, I went to the place of judgment, and held fast to one of the posts of the scaffold, so that the crowd should not push me away. First they brought an old man, who left ten children, and some of them were standing by, and shrieking and moaning page: 162-163[View Page 162-163] 162 - HUMAN WEAKNESS. so that a rock might have melted. He had a daughter who was an attendant of the Countess Theokeoli, in Moncacz; and to her he had writ- ten a letter, telling her to be faithful to her mis- tress, and not let herself be tempted, if one or the other should offer her gold, for that honesty was the best policy. That letter cost him his head. Poor- old man! The little children, I ween, weighed heavily on his heart; he went to his end so crushed and sad, and not at all as a man ought, who has been mastered by his enemies. I thought: 'RIEmmeric will do other. wise;'. but when-they brought him up, I said to myself: 'how has he changed over night I' In. deed, he walked along proud and erect, but he did not look so wild any more, but joyful, and now and then he raised his eyes to heaven.- Yei even when those green scoundrels pushed hid and crowded him, and I wanted him to strike them down with his chains, he looked at them calmly and earnestly, but said not a word, and I thought by myself: 'that is the priest's doing!' Then he looked around him, and when HUMAN WEAKNESS. 1i6 his eye fell on me, he called out, 'Kossanya!' 'Master, what would you have?' I asked; but they crowded me back, and the execution- er's men surrounded him, and I could only see that he pointed to heaven, and heard nothing but the words: 'To Him alone belongeth ven- gpance!' Upon this-I see, countess, you can- not bear it-well, I did what I had promised him with hand and oath." "Unhappy girl!" cried Mary; " didst thou not understand it, the Christian impulse in the heart of this noble man! Could'st thou not guess the meaning of that gesture toward heaven! Oh, Kossanya, tell me, didst thou send thy boy on his errand?" "What would you have?" replied the girl, gloomily. "Do you doubt it? Think you, per- haps, in your Christian piety, that -God suffers himself to be trifled with, and lets us beat down any thing from that which has once been pro- mised him? Indeed I sent off my boy; and it may be that the traitor is at this moment struck by the avenger's dagger." page: 164-165[View Page 164-165] HUMAN WEAKNESS. Mary hid her face, and was silent several minutes. At length she said: "Speak on, maiden-finish thy story!" "I -have nothing more to say," replied the gipsy. " The priest sent for me, and wanted to rouse my conscience, as he called it, by his taik, but I would stay no 'longer in bloody Eperies. The rest you know 1-oh, do not weep so sorely I -you have rejected and deserted him, but your hatred was dearer to him than my love. You were his dream by night, his prayer in awaking, and his thought in his daily business and doings. But what will now become of me ? If I only had my boy again I1 or if only the boy were dead, so that I too could lie down and die, then all would be over. But look, lady, if I thought your priests were right, .and that we were to come to life again after we have died, and were not to have any rest then either-look ye, then I would not like to die--not stand again with you by Fmmeric's side. Envy would gnaw away- my breast-I have borne it long-I could bear it no longer !" HUMAN WEAKNESS. 165. "Oh, poor, poor Kossanya I" cried Mary. "In the other world our earthly affections are value- less, our blindness leaves us, and it is only the heart which gives us worth in the eyes of the Highest and the righteous, enlightened by His mercy. There mmneric will love thee, and not me, for thou art better than I, Kossanya-thou art purer t" * page: 166-167[View Page 166-167] CHAPTER X. CONCLUSION. THE night was already far advanced, but only Mary's most urgent entreaties could induce the gipsy to remain in the castle till morning. When the countess was left alone, and, had thought over, once more, with bitlr tears, the fate of Emmeric, she turned her eye to the future, and considered how she could best conciliate his spirit. As Heaven seemed to have denied for ever the most fervent wish of her heart, to be a mother herself, she resolved to adopt Emmeric's son as her own child, and to educate him in the Protestant faith. She alsp thought of publicly going over to the Protestant church herself. But at the same time she would not leave any of her Duties unfulfilled, and that same night she wrote HUMAN WEiAKNESS. 167 to her husband, advising him to leave Hungary, and to be on his guard everywhere, as she had heard from a reliable source that bloody revenge had been sworn to him, for-so she wrote-his treason to his country. Next morning she asked after the gipsy, and great was her consternation when she heard that she had already left the castle at break of day. All endeavors to find the unhappy girl'were vain. May her poor heart, lacerated by the storms of grief, soon have reached the haven of eternal rest I A few days after Kossanya's disappearance, Mary received a letter, which caused her, anew, the most violent agitation. Her husband's pri- vate-secretary announced to her the death, the assassination of the count. He had joined the army of the Elector of Bavaria, which, gaining victory upon victory, had pushed forward as far as Belgrade, and was there besieging the fort. His activity here was not that of the Warrior; he was only making unceasing endeavors to un- dermine, with diplomatic skill, Theokeoli's-posi- tion with regard to the Porte, and create dissen- page: 168-169[View Page 168-169] 168 HUMAN WEVAKNESS. sion in the Turkish army. Similar weapons had now been raised against him, and caused his death. For once, when some business of this na- ture obliged him to retire to some 4istance from the army, several Hungarian noblemen attached themselves to his suite, who, pretending to have come directly from Theokeoli's camp behind Gyula, promised to make him some important discoveries. While he was listening to their leader, carefully weighing his words, one among the rest, who had remained at a distance, a dark, elderly man, with a blackrolf-skin cap pulled; down deep over his eyes, levelled a pistol at him, and sent a ball into his heart. A-terri- ble voice: ' For Emmeric Barcoczy I' sounded in the ears of the dying man, and the fugitive horsemen easily escaped the pursuit of the dis- mayed attendants. Mary was now free, and again sole possessor of her property; which Ferdinand's shrewdness had considerably augmented. After much con- sideration, she sent, by a secret messenger, a let- ter to Adrianople, where 'she had learned that THUMBAS WRA KNESS. - 1-69 :Stephen Barcoczy was at present residing. She exhorted him to listen .more to the voice of wisdom and reason than to that of his hatred against her, and to give up to her Emmeric's son, whom she promised, with the most sacred oaths, to have educated as if she herself had borne him to the Baron Barcoczy. Thus his father's name and religion, but her, his adopted mother's, fortune, should be his heritage. She agreed to bring about 'at court the legitimation of the boy. "Give me a mother's rights," she wrote, (" and I will faithfully perform a mother's duties. If you entertain any-suspicions of the unhappy Mary, listen to her words: 'should she ever break this promise, may your vengeance smite her, as it- smote the still more unhappy Ferdinand Szentirany!"' In -Stephen Barcoczy reason and care' for the advantage of his ]house outweighed every passion, furiously as it might rage in his manly breast. He himself had never been married, and- hated that binding tie. So it was that he welcomed the prospect of seeing- a rich heir con- 8 page: 170-171[View Page 170-171] 170 HUMAN WEAKNESS. tinue his race in his fatherland, from which his own position had banished him. He therefore delivered the boy to the confidential servant of the countess, whom she had sent to the Turkish frontier for this purpose, and gave her, in a let- ter, the assurance of his pardon, which she had requested. The peace of Carlowitz soon after deprived him, as well as Theokeoli and all who still adhered to the unhappy count, of the pros- pect of ever returning to their country; he de- voted himself from that time entirely to his new fatherland, and in after years, dark rumors-told of his having died a Mussulman. - Mary received the boy with a mother's heart, and when years'hardly sufficed to bridle and subdue' the rude manners and untamed passions of the young savage, she looked upon this task as a penance imposed upon her by Heaven, and did not swerve from the path of quiet piety which she had chosen. Patience, wisdom, and love, at length moulded' the boy, in whose noble nature his mother's glowing heart and his fa- ther's truth and fervency were united, into an HUMAN WTAKN ESS. 171 exemplary youth. A careful education and the progressing age led his mind to an elevation which no Barcoczy had yet attained to. Great sacrifices on Mary's part had at length obtained for him this name. When the countess had ac- complished this, she publicly joined the Luthe- ran church, and willingly submitted to the restrictions and difficulties to which this step subjected her. Gradually her poor heart haa regained its quiet, and when she saw how obvi- ously the Fessing of God rested on all her works, she said: "Ohl the Lord is mercifull He chasteneth to improve, and repentance iecon- cileth him!"Long after her death, the neigh- borhood still spoke of the beautiful, benevolent Countess Szentirany. THE END. page: 172-173 (Advertisement) [View Page 172-173 (Advertisement) ] 'I - - i - v * D. Appleton c Co.'s Publcattons. TEXT BOKS FOR LEARNING THiE FRENC(H, GERMAN ITALIAN AND SPANISH LANG UA GES. I. FRENCH. COLLOT'S Dramatic French Reader. 12mo. 1. DE FIVA'S Elementary French Reader. 12mo. 50 cts. DE FIVA'S Classie French Reader for Advanced Students. 12mo. 1. OLLENDORFF'S Elementary French Grammar. By Greene. 16mo. 38 ct. w'th Key, 50 cts. 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Price 50 cents. AUNT KI 'TY'S TALES. By Min McIntosh. 50 cents. PREVENTION BiLTTrsK THAM CURE. By Ms. Ellis. Price 50 cents. A VOYAGE UP THE AMAZON. By V. H. Edwards. Price $1. A SUMMER IN THE WILDER NESS. By Charles Tlinman. Ppie 50 cents "FE OF MARTIN LUTH'tJ. Bj M. Michelet Price 50 cents. HSTORY OF THE ROMAN R1 PUBLIC. By M. MichLst Priae 75 cents. HSTORY OF FRANCE. By M Michelet. 2vols. $3 50. HSTORY OF CIVILIZATION. Pp F. Guniot 4 vol. $3 50. page: 182 (Advertisement) -183 (Advertisement) [View Page 182 (Advertisement) -183 (Advertisement) ] NEW ILLUSTRATED I JUVENILES. AUNT FAN]SM STORY BOOK. Il' ast. 16mo. -$ 50 riIE CIIILD'S PIESENT. I1. lustrated. 16mo. . HO WI'IT'S PICTURE AND VERSE BOOK. Illustrated with 100 plates. 75 cts.; gilt - - 1 00 ,30ME FOR THE HOLIDAYS. Illustrated. 4to., 25 cts.; cloth 50 TORY OF JOAN OF ARC.* By R M. E-vans. With 23 illus- trations. 16mo. 75 ROBINSON CRUSOE. Pictorial Edtition. 300 plates. 8vo. - 1 50 TIIE CARAVAN, A COLLEC- TION OF TAIES AND STO- RIES FROM'THE GERMAN. Translated by G. P. quacken. boss. Illustrated by Orr. 16mo. INNOCENCE oF CHLDlHO')D. By Mrs. Colman. Illustrated 50 HOME RECREATIONS, com- prising Travels and Adventures, &c. Colored Illustrations. 16mo. 87 FIRESIDE FAIRIES. A New Story Book. My Miss Susan Pin- dar. Finely Illustrated. 16mo. STORY OF LITTLE JOHN. Trans. from the French.' Illus. 62 "VES AND? ANECDOTES OF ILLUSTRIOUS MEN. 16mo. 75 UNCLE JOHN'S PANORAMC PICTURE BOOKS. Six kinds, 25 cts.'each; half-cloth - - 50 HOLIDAY HOUSE. Tales, by Catherine Sinclair. Illustrated 75 PUSS IN BOOTS. Finely illus. by O. Speckter. 50c.; ex. glt. - 75 TALES AND STORIES for Boys and Girls. By Mary Howitt 71 AMERICAN HISTORICAL TALES for Youth. 16mo. - 75 LIBRARY FOR MY YOUNG COUNTRYMEN. ADVENTURES of Captain John Smith. By the Author of Uncle Philip . - - 38 ADVENTURES of Daniel Boon. By do. 38 DAWNINGS of Genius. By Anne Pratt -38 "FE and Adventures of Hetry Hudson. By the Author of Uncle Philip - - - - 38 "FE and -Adventures of Hernan Cortez. By do. - - - - 38 PIIILIF RANDOLPH. A Tale of Virginia. By Mary Gertrude. 38 ROWAN'S History of the French - Rev'ution. 2 vole. . . . 75 OU FI4.EY'S Life of Cromwell - 38 TALES FOR THE PEOPL i AND THEIR CHLDREN, ALICE FRANKLIN. By Mary Howitt - - . . -36 LOVE AND MONEY. By do. - 3@ HOPE ON, HOPE EVER! Do. 98 LITTLE COIN, MUCH -CARE. By do . 38 MY OWN STORY. By do. 38 MY UNCLE, THE CLOCKMA- KER. By: do. - * . A 3 NO SENSE LIKE COMMON - SENSE. By do. - - .39 SOWING AND REAPING. Do. 38 STRIVE AND THRIVE. By do. 38 THE TWO APPRENTICES, By do. . 39 WHrIICH IS THE WISER? Do. 38 WHO SIIALL BE GREATEST I By do. .... 38 {WORK AND WAGES. By do. 38 CROFTON BOYS, The. By Har- riet Martineau - - 3 DANGERS OF DINING OUT By Mrs. Ellis - - 38 FIRST IMPRESSIONS. By do. 38 MNISTER'S FAMLY. By do. 38 SOMMERVILLE IIALL. By do. 38 DOMESTIC TALES. By Han- nah More. 2 vols. - - - 75 EARLY FRIENDSHP. By Mrs. Copley . 3P FARMER'S DAUGHTER, The. By Mrs. Camelion - - - "OOKING-GLASS FOR THE MND. Many plates - - 4S MASTERMAN READY. By Capt. Marryat. 3 vols. - - 2 PEAS4r AND THE PRINCE. By H.1Iartineau - - - 38 POPLAR GROVE. By Mrs. - Copley - -. - 38 SETTLERS IN CANADA. By Capt. Marryatt. 2 vols. - - 78 TIRED OF HOUSEKEEPING. By T. S. Arthur 3 TWIN SISTERS, The. By Mrs. Sandham - - 38 YOUNG STUDENT. By Ma- dame Guizot. 3vols. -1 1 SECOND' SEIES. CHANCES AND. CHANGE.- 'By Charles Burdett - - - 3m NEVER TOO LATE. By do. - 38 GOLDMAKER'S VILLAGE. By H. Zschokke - - - 38 OCEAN WOREK ANCIENT AND MODERN. By J. H. Wright ..... so THE MSSION; or, Scenes in Af- rica. By Capt. Marryattw 2 vols. 7X STORY OF A GENIUS - - BY SUSAN PINDAR. Now ready, a New Edition. FIRESIDE FAIRIES; OR, CHRISTMAS AT AUNT ELSIE'S. Beautifully illustrated, with Original Designs. I vol. limo. 75 cts;, gilt ed. $ I. Contents. The Two Voices, or the Shadow and the Shadowless. The Minute Fairies. I Have and O Had I. The Hump and Long Nose. The Lily Fairy and the Silver Beam. The Wonderful Watch. The Red and White Rose Trees. The Diamond Fountain. The Magical Key. Though this is a small book, it is, mechanically, exceedingly beautiful, be- ing illustrated with spirited wooduts from Or esiga ns. But that is its least mdrit. It is one of the most entertaining, and decidedly-one of the best juveniles that have issued from the prolific press of this city. We speak ad- visedly. It is long since we found time to read through a juvenile book, so near Christmas, when the name of this class of volumes is legion ; but this charmed us so much that we were unwilling to lay it down after once com mencing it. The first story,--'The Two Voices, or the Shadow and the Shadowless,'!-is a sweet thing, as is also the one entitled, "The Diamond Fountain." Indeed, the whole number, and there are ten, will be read with avidity. Their moral is as pure as their style is enchanting.--Corn. Adv. D. Appleton 4. Co. have just ready, A NEW UNIFORM SERIES FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. BY AMEREL. COMPRISING I. CHRISTMAS STORIES, for Good Children. Illustrated. 16mo. II. WINTER HO(LIDAYS. A Story for Children. Illustrated. 16mo. "I. THE SUMMER HOLIDAYS. A Story for Children. Illus. 16mo. IV. GEORGE'S ADVENTURES IN THE COUNTRY. Illus. 16mo. V THE CHLD'S STORY BOOK. A Holiday Gift. Illus. 16mo. V1. THE LITTLE GIFT-BOOK. For Good Boys and Girls. Illus. 16tno page: 184 (Advertisement) -185 (Advertisement) [View Page 184 (Advertisement) -185 (Advertisement) ] POPULAR NEW WORKS. Published by D. Appleton . Co. "ADY ALICE; OR, THE NEW IUNA. A NOVEL. One volume, Svo. Paper cover, price 38 cents. Lady Alice is decidedly a work of genius. Indeed we know of few fictions wher this first and highest excellence is more apparent. It is both peculiar and original Nothing since"Jane Eyre" is more so. * * Whoever wrote it is, or rather may be, a great writer. He writes like a full-grown man; master of his subject and himself. He has occasional passages of health, strength, and beauty-he has pathos, delicacy, and spirit He is finished and elaborate to a fault. More than this, he is exceedingly ingenious in constructing his plot, ana effective in bringing his incidents to bear.-Boston Post. "This is an extraordinary book. * * * That the author was animated by a deeper motive than that of the production of a clever aud somewhat surprising novel, which ehould make a great sensation, we are perfectly satisfied. * * * A graceful fancy, and even a high imaginative power, are unsparingly exercised throughout-Douglasa errold's Weekly N'e2ws. THE MATDEN AUNT. A STORY. BY S. M.- REPRINTED FROM THE LAST ENGLISH EDITION. One volume 12mo. Paper cover, 50 cts. Cloth, 75 cts. "This is a story which should be-and if a taste for simple, correct diction and pure sentiment is not extinct, will be-widely read, and the publishers are entitled to thanks for publishing it in so handsome a form. We commend this sweet story, wit5 its moral td'every intelligent reader."-Commercial Advertiser. "One of the most intensely interesting works we ever read; vigorously as well ax pleasantly written. We like the useful and moral purpose which the writer keeps con- stantly in view." CONFIDENTIAL DISCLOSURES; OR, MEMOIRS OF MY YOUTH. BY ALPHONZE DE LAMARTINE, AUTHOR OF THE "HSTORY OF THE GIRONDISTS," ETC. Translated from the French, BY EUGENE PLUNKETT One volume 12mo. Paper cover, 25 cents. Cloth, 50 cents. ' This volume might well open with the beautiful introductory sentence in Johnson's Rasselas. ' Ye who listen with credulity to the whispers of fancy, or pursue with eager- ness the phantoms of hope; who expect that age will perform the promises of youth, ; that the deficiences of the present day will be supplied by the morrow'-give ear I It is a remarkable and most attractive book.'"-Boston Courier. JO*"-^A^X a, a r I A L C 1 I rA t V 1V1 A W i U S D. Appleton 4 Co. publish I PROMESSI SPOSI, OR THE BETROTHED LOVERS. BY ALESSANDRO MANZONI. Two neat Vo umes, 12m6. Paper cover, $1. Cloth, $1 50 This is a work of absorbing interest, with regard to the varied incidents which -mar progiss of the characters who figure in it. The scene is laid in Italy, in the begi- ming of the seventeenth century, and the tale of the Betrothed, to whose union obstacles are continually occurring, gives a vivid picture of the state of society, moral social, re- ligious, and political, at that time. It is an admirable adjunct to history, furnishing a aey to the strange events that occurred in the peninsula, during the prevalence of Span- sh dominion there. Manzoni has here truly realized his quaint idea of history-true his tory, which analyzes society to its elements-' taking prisoners by force the Years of Time, already dead ; calling them to life, bringing them under review, and re-arraying them in battle array I' The descriptions in this tale are exquisitely beautiful, the moral and religious tone of a lofty nature, and the path of the actors is bestrewed with every possible variety of agitating matter-' battle, murder, and sudden death'-the bravo, of hireling assassin, the plotting monk, the venal and voluptuary noble, on one side of the picture; while maiden constancy, chivalric Devotedness, simple truth, and civic virtues brighten the other. It is a work which has made a greater sensation in Europe than that of any other writer of fiction, since the publication of the Waverly series. We recom mend it to the perusal of ail who have leisure to lose an hour or so in the company of the accomplished author, amidst the exciting scenes of life in Italy two centuries ago."- Southern Patriot. "This far-famed specimen of Italian historical iomance is here Presented to us in au English form. The elegant simplicity of the style will render it popular, especially amon the younger classes of readers, and its faithful but minute description of the famine, riots, and the plague in Milan, rival in force and pathos the pages of our own immortal Defoe. The story is of the most natural and touching character-the plot being the proinged separation of the betrothed lovers just at the-eve of marriage. The date is rather more than two centuries ago, and the work gives a vivid portraiture of that lawless age."- - loath Chronicle. . "We are delighted to meet with this masterpiece of modern fiction in a form whiob mav render it accessible to the English reading public. The Italians consider ' The Be trothed' the first fiction of the age, holding some affinity to the school of Sir Walter Scott, but surpassing his works in power and depth, as we confess it certainly does in ora. design. ' The Betrothed ' is well translated and veiy handsomely got up; so as a bi eititled by its dress to appear in the most refined circles, and by its intrinsic qualities Lunm and instntct every class of reader."- Tait's Jfagazine. page: 186 (Advertisement) -187 (Advertisement) [View Page 186 (Advertisement) -187 (Advertisement) ] JUiLUtn aLW ^W ?ierllutlA m oveis. THE DESERTED WIFE. A TALE. BY EMMA E. DE NEVITT SOUTHWORTH, AUTHOR OF "RETRIBUTION, OR, THE VALE OF SHADOWS/' ETC., ETC. One volume 8vo., paper cover, price 38 cents. "Mrs. Southworth is a Writer of remarkable genius and originality; manifesting wonderful power in the vivid depicting of character, and in her glowing descriptions of scenery. Hagar, the heroine of the 'Deserted Wife.' is a magnificent being; while Raymond, Gusty, and Mr. Withers, are not merely names, but existences ;-they live and move before us, each acting in accordance with his peculiar nature."-Phila. Post. "This is a ' new American novel,' issued in a most unpretending form, but one of a charac- ter far above most of the kindred productions of the day. It displays an insight into human nature and a skill in the delineation and analysis of character, that cannot fail to give the an- thoress a prominent position among her contemporaries. * * * "The book abounds with scenes of intense interest, the whole plot being wrought out with much power and effect; no one, we are confident, can read it without acknowledging that it possesses more than ordinary merit."--Jewark .idv. "Under the above title we have a new novel of unusual power and of thrilling interest. The scene is laid in one of the Southern States, and the story purports to give a picture of manners and customs among the planting gentry, in an age not far removed backward from the piesent. T characters are drawn with a strong hand. The purpose of the author professedly is to teach thelesson, L that the fundamental causes of unhappiness in married life, are a defective moral an sical education-and a premature contraction of the matrimonial engagement."- Tro Whif. ELLEN PARRY; OR, TRIALS OF THE HEART. BY OLIVIA. One volume, 12mo. Paper cover, 38 cents; or cloth, 63 cents. This work is written with much vivacity, and delineates the influence of the misfortunes and trials of life to unfold and purify the virtues and graces of woman's lovely spirit. Its tone and spirit will meet with a deeo and hearty response among all who can appreciate the lessons of ad versity. THE CONSPIRATOR. ? A TALE. BY MSS DUPUY. One vol., 12mo. Paper cover, 50 cts.; or cloth, 75 cts. A powerful and thrilling narrative, written with great elegance of style, and founded upon events and incidents connected with the history of one of the early Vice-Presidents. The scenes are laid chiefly on the Ohio, and in the South-Western part of the country, NEW AMERICAN WORKS FOR FAMLY READING. WOMAN IN AMERICA; HER WORK AND HER REWARD. BY MARIA J. Mc!TOSH, AUTHOR OF "TWO LIVES," "CHARMS A' COUNTER-CHARMS," ETC. One Vol. 12mo. Paper cover, 50 cents; cloth, 75 cents. "We like this work exceedingly, and our fair countrywomen will admire it still more thai re do. It is written in the true spirit, and evinces extensive observation ofsoc ety, a clear in ight into the evils surrounding and pressing down her sex, and a glorious determination to ex ose and remove them. Read her work. She will win a willing way to the heart and home o roman, and her mission will be found to be one of beneficence and love. Truly, woman has er work and her reward."-Amnerican Spectator. "We hail with pleasure the appearance of any thing which is destined to teach won an the inctions of her sacred mission, and which rightly shows her the tremendous influence sh" is ex rting upon the moral destiny of the world. It is for such reasons that we thank Miss MA mntost 6r her ' Woman in America.' She has written a clever book, containinl much good ' w rd anc ruth,' many valuable thoughts and reflections, which ought to be carefully considered by every imerican laly. With a keen sense of the present demoralized condition of society, she faith illy endeavors to show woman her duty as a reformer, a wise meliorator; she would have he] now that she has a great work to perform, and that in the ' good time coming,' her sex will re elve a reward of praise and glory unspeakably great."-Protestant Churchman. JAMES MONTOY; OR, I VE BEEN THNKING . * fn tamnican Utoq. BY A. S. ROE. Two volumes, 12mo. Paper cover, 62 cents; cloth, 75 cents. "An American work by an American author, a graphic description of American domestic :enes, a most truthful delineation of American character. We confess to have read this story rith a very unusual degree of interest. The characters are well chosen, and in their delineation lost admirably sustained throughout the story. The scenes are well-apportioned, and de :ribed with a lifelike vividness that thrills the reader often With emotions of the deepest and nderest nature. The rapid succession of the grave and the gay, the serious and the jocose. ffords an agreeable variety, and relieves from all approach to tiresomeness. We never before ave finished reading a story when we so much regretted finding ourselves at the end of the book, abounds with the purest ahd deepest moral and pious sentiments, interwoven with scenes ol verylday life, in a manner that goes directly to the heart, and enlists all the sympathies of the reader on the side of goodness. It is a book of which Americans may well be proud. We be eak and predict for it a rapid sale and a wide circulation." MORTON MONTAGU; OR, A YOUNG CHRISTIAN'S CHOICE. L Narrative founded on Facts in the Early History of a Deceased Morat;an Missionary Clergymen. BY C. B. MORTIMER. One volume, 12mo. Cloth, 75 cents. "The contents of this truly interesting volume may be divided int h Aree'departments-. eneral history of the Moravian Church, or United Brethren; sundry particulars of their internal olity and regulations; and facts in the early personal history of a venerable pastor of that hurch, long well known and beloved in this city. It is a good book; and such a thing in this aading, and promiscuously reading, and carelessly reading age, is a valuable contribution to uman happiness and welfare. .. . Parents and children, and young persons, and Christian inisters, will find in it much that is interesting, valuable, and profitable."- 'The Evergreen. IELOIS E; OR, THE UNREVEALED SEOCRET page: 188 (Advertisement) -189 (Advertisement) [View Page 188 (Advertisement) -189 (Advertisement) ] D. Aplton ' Company's Pblicatiowns. GRACE AGUILAR'S WORKS. WOMAN.' FRIENDSHP. i gale of Domea tiec lfe. One volume, 12mo. Paper cover, 50 cents; cloth, 75 cents. "This is truly a classical novel. It is a relief to find now and then, amid the effeminate and multiplied issues of the press called novels, a really readable and profitable work, like the present. Here are the most wholesome truths and the most sage maxims, expressed in a beautiful style. The genuine spirit of poetry mingles with and adorns the most practical good sense. Every lady and every gentleman, young or old, will be amply rewarded with the perusal of this work. If we mistake not, you will read it a second time."-Middletown Oasis. THE VALE OF CEDARS; out THE MARTYR. One volume, 12mo. Paper cover, 50 cents; cloth, 75 cents. *' The power and fervor of the pen of Grace Aguilar, are already well known. In this work the scene is laid in Spain, during the glorious reign of Ferdinand and Isabolla; although the leading characters possess all the fire and energy of the ancient youthful nobles of Eng- land. - This union of the intense and fervid passion of the Spanish character with the noble- ness of the Eng;ish, has presented a field for the exercise of alFhe powers of the Author; and magnificently has she used them, by portraying in this work characters and scenes which awaken in the reader a most absorbing and thrilling interest."--Evening Post. n. "I. T THE WOMEN OF ISRAEL. Two volumes, 12mo. By no writer have the characters of the celebrated Women of Israel been so correctly ap. preciated, or eloquently delineated. Those high attainments of piety, those graces of spirit which have placed them in the rank of examples for all subsequent generations, are spread before us with a geniality of spirit and a beauty of style which will secure the warmest ad miration; at the same time their weakness and errors are not overlooked or excused. .-. D. Appleton S Company's PubliWaws. NEW WORKS FOR DOMESTIC BEADING. NVOMAN'S FRIENDSHP. gale of pomeo tic A le. BY GRACE AGUILARV AUTHOR OF "HIOME INFLUENCE," I'TO. One volume, 12mo. Paper cover, 50 cents; cloth, 765 cents. G This is truly a classical novel. It is a relief to find now and then, amid the effeminase and multiplied issues of the press called novels, a really readable and profitable work, like the present. Here are the most wholesome truths and the most sage maxims, expressed in a beau ful style. The genuine spirit of poetry mingles with and adorns the most practical good sense very lady and every gentleman, young or old, will be amply rewarded wieh the perusal of this work. If we mistake not, you will read it a second time."-Middleto2m Oasis. HEARTS AND HOM'ES. o % Atltom BY MRS. ELLIS, AUTHOR OP "WOMEN OF ENGLAND," ETC. BTO. Two parts, paper cover, $1. Two parts bound in one volume, 8vo, cloth, $1 50. "Of the living female authors of England, there is no one more widely or more favorably nown in the country than Mrs. Ellis. Her works are always characterized by a depth of feel. rg, an earnestness of spirit, a zeal for the right, a truth, freshness, and vivacity, that render lem not only interesting but instructive. Her stories contain, as-the very end and essence of leir being, a high and lofty sentiment of morality, equal to Maria Edgeworth or Hannah More Ve cannot but trust they will ever errjoy, their present popularity. The present publication ombhiaes all the graces and felicities of her previous writings, with added interest -and value." 'HE V 11,TAGE NOTARY. A EO] MA1NSE OF HUNG ARIAN LIFE. ?ranslated from the Hungarian of Baron EOTvOS, by OTTO WINCKSTEIN With Introductory Remarks by FRANCIS PULSKY r One volume, 8vo. Papercover, 25 cents. "'Iahis is a very lively and entertaining book. It presents the reader with a minute pictun f social life in all its varieties in Hungary, and was written with the noble design to inspire u he minds of the mass of the people of that country the glorious sentiments of liberty, and to rouse them to-meet the terrific conflict with despotism which they have recentl ^fought. The ale of the work in the original has been immense, and its translation into English will doubtma m recoived with great favor; the London edition, from which this is reprinted, sells for 8& NORMAN LESLIE. S - Zsalk, page: 190 (Advertisement) -191 (Advertisement) [View Page 190 (Advertisement) -191 (Advertisement) ] Miss Sewell's New Work. D. APPLETON . COMPANY PUBLISH THE EARL'S DAUGHTER. A TAL. BY TEE AUTHOR OF "AMY HERBERT," "GERTRUDE," ETC., ETC. EDITED BY THE REV. W. SEWELL. One volume., 12mo., paper cover 50 cents, cloth 75- cts. "The scenes of this work are portrayed with a delicacy and a natural pathos that give to them an irresistible attraction."-Courier & Enquirer. "t It deserves, and will doubtless receive, an extended circulation, fnd will do good wherever it may go."-NJewtoark Adv. "At IS a roman e that the most fastidious objector to novel reading might peruse with advan tage as well as with pleasure."- Worcester Palladium. "We are disposed to rank this work, in point of talent, mor highly othaes any of Miss Sew ell's previous volumes " "It is pleasant to recommend a volume lie this. which every mother can place in her daugh- ter's hand with the certainty that the lessons it teaches must strengthen within her every virtue ous thought, and better prare her to pass worthily through the conflict of life. We cannot do the reading public a better service than to recommend the circulation of this work. - albany St A book of higI order ad re interest, and worthy to rank among the foremost works of -that class of, fiction, which invigate but do not intoxicate."-Com. Advertiser. "A charming novel from the pof that asantest and sprighthest of writers, Miss Sewell. The story is one of touching pathos a oorthing interest, carryingswith it a moral worthy to be inculcated. The character of the ' Earl's Daughter' is one of the most beautiful specilnens of portraiture we have ever met-in which all the elements that ennoble and render lovely the female character, are most happily combined. We recommend this book to our lady readers.' -Savannah Daily JNews. - "A new work by Miss Sewell will need no recommendation to those who have been de lighted by her previous works. 'The Earl's Daughter' is written in a pure and elegant style, the plot is simple, though sufficiently intricate to excite and sustain the interest of the reader, and the moral unexceptionable. It will find an unexceptionable welcome."-Northern Budget. D. A. &. CO. ALSO PUBLISH, BY THE SAME -AUTHOR MARGARET PERCIVAL: A TALE. / Edited by-the Rev. WM. SEWELL, B. A. 2 vols., 12mo, paper cover $1, cloth $1 50. II. GERTRUDE: A TALE. Edited by the Rev. WM. SEWILL, B. A. 12mo., cloth 75 cts., paper cover 50 cta. AMY HERBERT: A TALE. E dited by the Rev. WM. SEWELL, B. A. I vol., 12mo., cloth 75 cts., paper cover 50 tes. IV, "ANETON PARSONAGE: A TALE. Edited by the Rev WM. SEWELL, B. A. 3 vols.. 12mo., cloth $2 25, paper oover $1 50 V. WALTER LORIMER, AND OTHER TALES. 12mo., Cloth, 75 cents. VI. THE CHLD'S FIRST HSTORY OF ROME. One volume, i6mo. 50 cents. CHOICE LIGHT READING BOOKS. PUBLISHED BY D. APPLETON & CO. THE DESERTED WIFE. A, Tale. By an. American Lady. Paper, - 38 NORMAN LESLIE. A Tale. By the Author of "Curate of Lirt wood," etc. Paper covel 50 c.. Cloth, - - - 75 JAMES MONTOY, or I've been Think- ing. By A. S. Roe. Paper 63. Cloth 75 DIARY OF A PHYSICIAN IN CALI- FORNIA. By Jas. L. Tyson. 8vo. 25 HELOISE, or the Unrevealed Secret. By Talvi. 12mo. Paper 50. * Cloth - 75 THE EARLS DAUGHTER. A -tale. by Miss Sewell. 12mo. Paper 50. cloth 75 AMY HERBERT. A Tale. By Miss Sewell. paper 50. Cloth - -. 75 GERTRUDE. A Tale; By Miss Sewell. Paper 50: Cloth . 75 "ANETON PARSONAGE. By Miss Sewell. 3 vols. Paper 1 50. Cloth. 225 MARGARET PERCIVAL. By Miss Sewel. 2vols. Paper 1 00. Cloth 1 50 WALTER LORIMER, by Miss Sewell, and other Tales. Illustrated. Cioth- 75 GRACE LESLIE. A Tale. 12mo. Cloth, 75 WOMAN IN AMERICA; Her Work and her Reward. By Miss McIntosh. Paper, 50. Cloth, - 63 TWO LIVES; or To Seem and To Be. By Miss McIntosh. I Paper, 50. Cloth, 75 CHARMS AND COUNTER CHARMS. By Miss McIntosh. Paper, 75. Cloth, 1 00 AUNT KITTY'S TALES. By Miss Me Intosh. Paper, 50. Cloth, - - 75 PREVENTION BETTER THAN CURE. By Mrs. Ellis. Paper, 50 CJth, 75 MOTHERS, and WOMEN OF ENG- "AND. By Mrs. Ellis. Cloth, each 50 HEARTS AND HOMES; or, Social Dis- tinctions. By Mrs. Ellis. 8vo. Paper 10 0. Cloth, - 1 50 NATURAL HSTORY OF THE BAL- "ET GIRL. By Albert Smith, - - 25 NATURAL HSTORY OF THE GENT. By Albert Smith. Paper, - - - 25 PICTORIAL VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. By Oliver Goldsmith. 100 Engravings. 75 THE MAIDEN AUNT. A-Story. By S. M. Paper, 50. Cloth. - - 75 EMORY'S NOTES OF TRAVELS IN CALIFORNIA. 8vo. Paper, - 25 "AMARTINE'S CONFIDENTIAL DIS- CLOSURES; or, Memoirs of my Youth. 12mo. Cloth. - - . 50 BROOK'S ,FOUR MONTHS AMONG THE GOLD FINDERS in California. 8vo. Paper, 2.5 VILLAGE NOTARY. A Romance of Hungarian Life. 8o. Paper, - . 2i o "ADY ALICE; or, the New Una. A Novel. 8vo. Paper, - - 21 THE VALLEY OF THE CEDARS.- By Grace Aguilar. 12mo. Paper. . WOMAN'S FRIENDSHP. A Story of Domestic Life. By Grace Aguilar. Pa- per, 50. Cloth, - - - - - 76 A MOTHER'S- RECOMPENSE. By Grace Aguilar. 12mo. - - - ELLEN MDDLETON. A Tale. By Lady Fullerton. Paper, 50c.; cloth, 75 GRANTLEY MANOR. A Tale. By Lady Georgiana Fullerton. Paper 50. Cloth, - - . . .75 "FE, ANECDOTES, AND LETTERS OF GEN. ZACHARY, TAYOR. Pa- per, --25 HANDY ANDY; By Sam'l Lover. 8vo. Paper, - - . . 50 S. D. TREASURE TROVE. By Samuel Lover. 8vo.' Paper, - 26 FORTUNES OF HECTOR O'HALLO- RAN. By W. H. Maxwell. 8vo. Pa- per, -- - -50 MARGUERITE DE VALOIS. By Alex. Dumas. Paper, - . . .25 HSTORY AND ADVENTURES OF MARGARET CATCHPOLE. By Rev. Richard Corbould. Paper, - - 4 NARRATIVE OF THE EXPLORING EXPEDITION TO OREGON AND CALIFORNIA. By Capt. Fremont. 8vo. Paper, 26 THE FOOL OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY; and other Tales. By H. Zschokke. 12mo. Paper, - - 50 MY UNCLE HOBSON AND I; or Slashes at Life. By P. Jones. Paper, 50 MEMOIRS OF AN AMERICAN LADY By Mrs. Grant. Paper, 50, Cloth;, 75 THE BETROTHED LOVERS. By Alex. Manzoni. 2 vols. Paper, 1 00. Cloth, 150 WHAT-I SAW IN CALIFORNIA. By Edwin Bryant. 12mo. Maps. Cloth. 125 WANDERINGS AND FORTUNES OF SOME GERMAN EMGRANTS. Pa- per, 50. Cloth, 73 MORTON MONTAGUE; or, a Young Christian's Choice. 12mo. Cloth, - 71 MAXWELL'S HLL-SIDE and BOR- DER SKETCHES. 8vo. Paper, - 25 CALIFORNIA GUIDE-BOOK, embrac- ing Fremont's and Emory's Travels in California. 8vo. Map. . . S SOMEH;'ING FOR EVERY BODY. By Robert C-arlton. 12mo. Cloth, 7 Paper,- .. .. . . page: 192 (Advertisement) -193[View Page 192 (Advertisement) -193] L* J LJj/j W T ' Vsu r&vy I W'JWIw..rw A GTace Aguilar's New Work. THE-VALE OF CEDARS; OR, THE MARTYR. BY GRACE AGUILAR, Author of "Woman's Friendship," "' Home Influence," etc. One volume, l2mo., paper cover, 50 cents; cloth, 75 cents. "The power and fervor of the pen of Grace Aguilar, are already well known. In th work the scene is laid in Spain, during the glorious reign of Ferdinand and Isabella; althoug -the leading characters possess all the fire and energy of the ancient youthful nobles of Englan This union of the intense and fervid passion of the Spanish character with the nobleness of :i English, has presented a field for the exercise of all the powers of the author; and magn l gently has she used them, by portraying in this work characters and scenes which awaken in t reader a most absorbing and thrilling interest." A New Historical NoveL NORMAN LESLIE; A TAJ E. BY G. C. H a Author of "The Curate of Linwood," "Amy Harrington," etc. ne volume, 12mo., paper cover, 50 cents; cloth, 75 cents. "This is a new acquaintance under a familiar name, but one so well worthy to bear th name, that we greet it with a hearty welcome. Norman Leslie, the hero of the present tale was one of those gallant and spirited nobles of Scotland who bravely took-the field in resistant to the cruelties which the Regency and the Church had inflicted upon. the early Reformer After the death of James IV., and during the time of the famous John Knox, the Regent which governed Scotland was weak, corrupt, and the vindictive instrument of the Chur against all who departed from her faith. It was during these perilous times that the scenes 4 this work are represented as taking place. Indeed, the characters and events may be said to I almost purely historical, and the lives so narrated of the leading indivi'als belong rather biography than to romance. It is written with much force and vigor of style, and with an el vation rl thought and sentiment very appropriate to this subject."- Evening Post. HELOISE; OR, THE UNR-EVEALED SECRET. A TALE. BY TALVI. One volume, 12mo., paper cover, 50 cents; cloth, 75 cents. This is a romance of great power and interest. The scenes are laid chiefly in Germany ai Circassia, and the author shows a most intimate knowledge of social life in those countries. i a tale it is unsurpassed by few either in the development of some of the noblest and m-., se sacrificing passions of our nature, the lofty sentiments which it expresses, or the thrilling a&tra tions of its narrative. It is told with much force and beauty of language, and in the rich di tion of a German scholar. "THE VERY AGE! A LOCAL SATIRICAL COMXEDY, N FIVE ACTS. BY EDWARD S8 GOULD, ESQ. One volume, 12mo., paper cover, 38 cents. This play is free from personalities; but it hits hard upon the fashionable follies 'of IS York society.
