for opening a wound which is scarcely yet healed. I can guess the rest of your story. The strange similarity of Eulalie's and your misfortune awakened her father's interest in you, and you became another child to him." "Yes, I became another child to him, and Eulalie was a sister to me; my kind adopted mother and I went to take up our abode in the new house, which is called the Chateau. Eulalie's masters were mine; together we learned those divine strains of harmony which raise the soul to heaven, and together, by means of pages printed in relief, we read with our fingers the sublime thoughts of the philosophers, and the beautiful creations of the poets. I endeavored to imitate some of their graceful images, and to paint what I had not seen. Eulalie admired my verses, and this was all I desired. Ah! if you had heard her sing, you would have thought that an angel had descended to entrance the valley. Every day in the fine season we were conducted to this rock, which is called by the inhabitants of this part 'le Rocher des Aveugles;' here, too, the kindest of fathers guided our steps, and bestowed on us numberless fond attentions. Around us were tufts of rhododendrons, beneath us was a carpet of violet: and daisies, and when our touch had recognized, by its short stalk and its velvety disk, the last-named flower, we amused ourselves in stripping it of its petals, and repeated a hundred times this innocent diversion, which served as a kind of interpretation to our first avowal of love." As Gervais proceeded, his face acquired a mournful expression, a cloud passed over his brow, and he became suddenly sad and silent; in his emotion he trod unthinkingly upon an Alpine rose, which was, however, already withered on its stalk; I gathered it without his being aware of it, for I wished to preserve it in remembrance of him. Some minutes elapsed before Gervais seemed inclined to proceed with his narrative, and I did not like to speak to him: suddenly he passed his hand over his eyes, as if to drive away a disagreeable dream, and then turning towards me with an ingenuous smile, he continued. "Be charitable to my weakness, for I am young, and have not yet learned to control the emotions of my heart; some day, perhaps, I shall be wiser." "I fear, my good friend," said I, “that this conversation is too fatiguing for you; do not recall to your mind circumstances which appear so painful. I shall never forgive myself for occasioning you such an hour of grief.” "It is not you," replied Gervais, "who bring back these recollections, for these thoughts are never absent from my mind; and I would rather that it was annihilated than that they should ever cease to occupy it; my very existence is mixed up with my sorrow." I had retained Gervais's hand; he understood, therefore, that I was listening to him. "After all, my reminiscences are not entirely made up of bitterness; sometimes I imagine that my present affliction is only a dream-that my real life is full of the happiness which I have lost. I fancy that she is still near me, only perhaps a little farther off than usual-that she is silent because she is plunged in deep meditation, of which our mutual love forms a principal part. One day we were seated as usual on this rock, and were enjoying the sweetness and serenity of the air, the perfume of our violets, and the song of the birds; upon this occasion we listened with a curious kind of pleasure to the masses of ice which, being loosened by the sun, shot hissingly down from the peaks of the mountain. We could distinguish the rushing of the waters of the Arveyron. I do not know how it was, but we were both suddenly impressed with a vague sensation of the uncertainty of happiness, and at the same time with a feeling of terror and uneasiness; we threw ourselves into each other's arms, and held each other tightly, as if somebody had wished to separate us, and both of us exclaimed eagerly, 'Ah, yes! let it be always thus, always thus.' I felt that Eulalie scarcely breathed, and that her overwrought state of mind required to be soothed. lalie, let us ever be thus to one another; the world believes that our misfortune renders us objects only of pity, but how can it possibly judge of the happiness that I enjoy in your tenderness, or that you find in mine! How little does the turmoil and excitement Yes, Eu of society affect us; we may be regarded by many as imperfect beings, and this is quite natural, for they have not yet discovered that the perfection of happiness con sists in loving and in being loved. It is not your beauty which has captivated me, it is something which cannot be described when felt, nor forgotten when once experienced; it is a charm which belongs to you alone which I can discover in your voice, in your mind, in every one of your actions. Oh! if ever I enjoyed sight, I would entreat God to extinguish the light of my eyes in order that I might not gaze at other women-that my thoughts might only dwell upon you. It is you who have rendered study pleasing to me-who have inspired me with taste for art: if the beauties of Rossini and Weber impressed me strongly, it was because you sang their glorious ideas. I can well afford to dispense with the superfluous luxuries of art, I who possess the treasure from which it would derive its highest price; for surely thy heart is mine, if not thou couldst not be happy.' thought that my heart would burst; I wished to die at that moment, but, alas! I did not die. I do not know how happiness affects others, but mine was imperfect, for it was without hope or calmness. I could not sleep, or rather I did not attempt to sleep, for it seemed to me a waste of time, and that eternity would not be sufficiently long to enjoy the felicity which was in store for me; I almost regretted the past, which, though it lacked the delicious intoxication of the present moment, was yet free from doubts and fears. At length I heard the household stirring; I got up, dressed myself, performed my morning devotions, and then went to my window, which looked out upon the Arve. I opened it, stretched forth my head in the morning mists to cool my burning brow. Suddenly my door opened, and I recognized a man's footstep; it was not M. Robert; a hand took hold of mine "I am happy,' replied Eulalie, 'the hap-M. Maunoir !' exclaimed I. piest of girls.' "My dear children,' said M. Robert, while he joined our trembling hands, I hope you will always be equally happy, for it is my desire that you should never be separated.' "M. Robert was never long absent from us; he was ever bestowing upon us marks of his tenderness. Upon this occasion he had reached the spot where we were seated without our having been aware of his presence, and he had heard us without intentionally listening. I did not feel that I was in fault, and yet I was overwhelmed, embarrassed. Eulalie trembled. M. Robert placed | himself between us, for we had withdrawn a little from each other." 66 6 Why should it not be as you wish?' said he, as he threw his arms around us, and pressed us close together, and embraced us with more than usual warmth, 'Why not? Am I not sufficiently rich to procure you servants and friends. You will have children who will replace your poor old fa ther; your infirmity is not hereditary. Receive my blessing, Gervais, and you, my Eulalie. Thank God, and dream of tomorrow, for the day which will shine upon us to-morrow will be beautiful even to the blind.' "Eulalie embraced her father, and then threw her arms around me; for the first time my lips touched hers. This happiness was too great to be called happiness. I "It was a great many years since he had been to the Valley; but the sound of his footstep, the touch of his hand, and something frank and affectionate in his manner, brought him back to my remembrance. "It is indeed he,' observed M. Maunoir, in a faltering voice, to some one near him, 'it is indeed my poor Gervais. You remember what I said to you about it at that time.' He then placed his fingers on my eyelids, and kept them up for a few seconds. Ah,' said he, 'God's will be done! You are happy, at any rate, are you not, Gervais?' "Yes, very happy,' replied I. 'M. Robert considers that I have profited by all his kindness; I assure you I can read as well as a person who is gifted with sight; above all, Eulalie loves me.' "She will love you, if possible, still more if she should one day be able to see you.' “If she sees me, did you say?' "I thought he alluded to that eternal home where the eyes of the blind are opened, and darkness visits them no more. "My mother, as was her custom, brought me here, but Eulalie had not arrived; she was later than usual. I began to wonder how this could have happened. My poor little Puck went to meet her, but he returned to me again without her. At length he began to bark violently, and to jump so impatiently up and down on the bench, that I "No, no! I will never love any one but Gervais. You were happy yesterday, in thinking we were blind, because our love would never be likely to change. I will be blind again, if my recovery of sight makes you unhappy. Shall I remove this bandage, and cause the light of my eyes to be for ever extinguished? Horrible idea, I had actually thought of it.' felt sure that she must be near me, though | for who is the beautiful girl who would I could not hear her myself. I stretched bestow her affection on a blind lover? Oh! myself forward in the direction she would unfortunate creature that I am to be blind; come, and presently my arms were clasped in my despair I fell to the earth; she wound in hers. M. Robert had not accompanied her arms round me, twined her fingers in her as usual, and then I began at once to my hair, and covered me with kisses, while feel sure that his absence, and Eulalie's she sobbed like a child. delay in reaching our accustomed place of rendezvous, was to be attributed to the presence of strangers at the Chateau. You will think it very extraordinary when I tell you that Eulalie's arrival, for which I had so ardently longed, filled me with a restless sensation, which had hitherto been unknown to me. I was not at ease with Eulalie as I had been the day before. Now that we belonged to each other, I did not dare to make any claim on her kindness; it seemed to me that her father, in bestowing her on me, had imposed a thousand restrictions; Iness, and I from despair. Listen,' and I felt as if I might not indulge in a word or caress; I was conscious that she was more than ever mine, and yet I did not venture to embrace her. Perhaps she experienced the same feelings, for our conversation was at first restrained, like that of persons who are not much acquainted with each other; however, this state of things could not last long, the delicious happiness of the past day was still fresh in our minds. I drew near to Eulalie, and sought her eyes with my lips, but they met a bandage. “I have seen,' said she, 'I can see,' and her hand trembled in mine, as if she had apprised me of some fault or misfortune. "You have seen,' exclaimed I, 'you will see! Oh! unfortunate creature that I am! Yes, you will see, and the glass which has hitherto been to you a cold and polished surface, will reflect your living image; its language, though mute, will be animated; it will tell you each day that you are beautiful! and when you return to me it will make you entertain only one feeling towards me, that of pity for my misfortunes. Yet what do I say you will not return to me; "Stop, stop,' cried I, 'our language is that of madness, because we are both unnerved and ill,—you from excess of happi placed myself beside her, but my heart felt ready to break. 'Listen,' continued I, it is a great blessing that you are permitted to see, for now you are perfect; it matters not, if I do not see, or if I die; I shall be abandoned, for this is the destiny which God has reserved for me; but promise me that you will never see me; that you will never attempt to see me; if you see me, you will, in spite of yourself, compare me to others,—to those whose soul, whose thoughts may be read in their eyes, to those who set a woman fondly dreaming with a single glance of fire. I would not let it be in your power to compare me; I would be to you what I was in the mind of a little blind girl, as if you saw me in a dream. I want you to promise me that you will never come here without your green bandage; that you will visit me every week, or every month, or at least once every year;-ah! promise me to come back once more, without seeing me.' "I promise to love you always,' said Eulalie, and she wept. "I was so overcome that my senses left me, and I fell at her feet. M. Robert lifted me from the ground, bestowed many kind words and embraces upon me, and placed me under the care of my adopted mother. Eulalie was no longer there; she came the next day, and the day after, and several days following, and each day my lips touched the green bandage which kept up my delusion; I fancied I should continue to be the that the books which she selected for reading to me were of a different character to those she used to like; she seemed now to be more pleased with those writers who painted the busy scenes of the world, she unconsciously showed great interest in the description of a féte, in the numerous details of a woman's toilet, and in the preparations for, and the pomps of, a ceremony. At first I did not imagine that she had forgotten that I was blind, so that though this change chilled, it did not break my heart. I attributed the alteration in her taste, in some measure, to the new aspect things had assumed at the Chateau; for since M. Maunoir had performed one of the miracles of his art upon Eulalie, M. Robert was naturally much more inclined to enjoy society and the luxuries which "But it is impossible, Eulalie, for you fortune had bestowed upon him; and as soon promised me.' "I did not promise you any thing, dearest, for when you asked me to make you this promise, I had already seen you.' "You had seen me, and yet you continued to come to me; that is well; but whom did you see first?' "M. Maunoir, my father, Julie, then this great world, with its trees and mountains, the sky and the sun.' "And whom have you seen since ?' 666 Gabriel Payot, old Balmat, the good Terraz, the giant Cachat, and Marguerite.' "And nobody else?" ""Nobody. "How balmy the air is this evening! take off your bandage, or you may become blind again.' "Would that grieve me so much? I tell you again and again, that the chief happiness I have in seeing, is to be able to look at you, and to love you through the medium of another sense. You were pictured in my soul as you now are in my eyes. This faculty, which has been restored to me, serves but as another link to bring me closer to your heart; and this is why I value the gift of sight.' as his daughter was restored to him in all the perfection of her organization, and the height of her beauty, he sought to assemble, at the Chateau, the numerous travellers that the short summer season brought to the neighborhood. "The winter came at length, and M. Robert told me, after slightly preparing me, that he was going to leave me for a few days, -for a few days at the most, he assured me that he only required time to procure and get settled in a house at Geneva, before he would send for me to join them; he told me that Eulalie was to accompany him; and, at length, that he intended to pass the winter at Geneva; the winter, which would so soon be over, which had already began. I remained mute with grief. Eulalie wound her arms affectionately round my neck. I felt they were cold and hung heavily on me; if my memory still serves me she bestowed on me all kinds of endearing and touching appellations; but all this was like a dream. After some hours I was restored to my senses, and then my mother said, 'Gervais, they are gone, but we shall remain at the Chateau.' From that time I have little or nothing to relate. "In the month of October she sent me a ribbon with some words printed in relief, they were these:-'This ribbon is the green ribbon which I wore over my eyes-it has never left me; I send it you.' In the month of November, which was very beautiful, some servants of the house brought me several presents from her father, but I did not in quire about them. The snow sets in in December, and, oh! heavens, how long that winter was! January, February, March, April, were centuries of calamities and tempests. In the month of May the avalanches fell every where except on me. When the sun peeped forth a little, I was guided, by my wish, to the road which led to Bossons, for this was the way the muleteers came; at length, one arrived, but with no news for me; and then another, and after the third I gave up all hope of hearing from my absent friends; I felt that the crisis of my fate was over. Eight days after, however, a letter from Eulalie was read to me; she had spent the winter at Geneva, and was going to pass the summer at Milan. My poor mother trembled for me, but I smiled; it was exactly what I expected. And now, sir, you know my story, it is simply this, that I believed myself loved by a woman, and I have been loved by a dog. Poor Puck!" Puck jumped on the blind man. "Ah!" said he, "you are not my Puck, but I love you because you love me." "Poor fellow," cried I, " you will be loved by another, though not by her, and you will love in return; but listen, Gervais, I must leave Chamouny, and I shall go to Milan. I will see her. I will speak to Eulalie, I swear to you, and then I will return to you. I, too, have some sorrows which are not assuaged; some wounds which are not yet healed." Gervais sought for my hand, and pressed it fervently. Sympathy in misfortune is so quickly felt. "You will, at least, be comfortably provided for; thanks to the care of your protector, your little portion of land has become very fruitful, and the good Chamouniers rejoice in your prosperity. Your prepossessing appearance will soon gain you a mistress, and will enable you to find a friend." | long silky coat, and with a slight pang at my heart, in which there was no feeling of anger, I said, "Go." He flew back to Gervais like an arrow. Gervais will not be alone at any rate, thought I. A few days afterwards I found myself at Milan. I was not in spirits for enjoying society, yet I did not altogether avoid mixing in it; a crowded room is, in its way, a vast solitude, unless you are so unfortunate a person as to stumble upon one of those nevertiring tourists whom you are in the habit of meeting occasionally on the Boulevards at Tortoni's, or with whom you have gaped away an hour at Favert's, one of those dressedup puppies with fashionable cravat and perfumed hair, who stares through an eye-glass, with the most perfect assurance imaginable, and talk at the highest pitch of their voice. "What! are you here?" cried Roberville. "Is it you?" replied I. He continued to chatter, but his words were unheeded by me, for my eyes suddenly fixed upon a young girl of extraordinary beauty; she was sitting alone, and leaning against a pillar in a kind of melancholy reverie. "Ah! ah!" said Roberville, "I understand; your taste lies in that direction. Well, well, really in my opinion you show considerable judgment. I once thought of her myself, but now I have higher views.” 'Come, come,” said Roberville, “I pérceive your heart is already touched, you are occupied only with her; confess that it would have been a sad pity if those glorious black eyes had never been opened to the light.” "What do you mean ?" "What do I mean? why, that she was born blind. She is the daughter of a rich merchant of Anvers, and his only child; he lost his wife very young, and was plunged in consequence in the profoundest grief." Do you believe it?" "I should think so, for he quitted Anvers, gave up his mercantile pursuits, which "Your dog; had never been more profitable to him than at that time, and, after making magnificent presents to those persons employed in his service, and pensions to his servants, left his house and occupation." I did not speak to Puck, or he would have followed me; as I was moving on I saw Puck looked uneasy and ashamed; he drew back a step, stretched out his paws, and bent down his head to the ground. I stroked his And what became of him afterwards ?" said I, somewhat impatiently, for my curiosity was gradually increasing. |