“The priest seated himself by the bed-side,” continued Marguerite, so terrified that she pressed still closer against Paul; “my mother remained standing at the foot of the bed--I was there, just opposite to them, compelled to remain a witness of that mournful spectacle, without the means of retreat!--a daughter, obliged to hear the dying confession of her father!--was it not horrible? I fell upon my knees, closing my eyes that I might not see--praying that I might not hear--and yet in spite of myself--and this I swear to you, Paul--I saw and I heard--Oh! what I then heard, can never be obliterated from my memory--I saw my father, whose recollections seemed to inspire him with a feverish strength, sit up in his bed, the paleness of death imprinted on his face. I heard him--I heard him pronounce the words, a duel--adultery--assassination!--and at each word he uttered, I saw my mother turn pale--and paler even than before--and I heard her raise her voice so that it might drown the voice of the dying man, saying to the priest: ‘believe him not--believe him not, reverend father; what he says is false--or rather, he is mad, he knows not what he says--believe him not!’ Oh! Paul, it was a dreadful spectacle, an impious sacrilege; a cold perspiration stood upon my forehead, and I fainted.” “Justice of Heaven!” cried Paul. “I know not how long I remained without consciousness. When I recovered my senses, the room was as silent as the tomb. My mother and the priest had disappeared, and two wax lights were burning near my father. I opened the door of the cabinet, and cast my eyes on the bed; it appeared to me that I could distinguish beneath the sheet which completely covered it, the stiffened form of a corpse. I divined that all was over! I remained motionless, divided between the funereal awe which such a sight inspired, and the pious desire of raising the covering to kiss once more before he should be inclosed in his coffin, the venerable forehead of my dear father. Fear, however, overcame every other feeling--an ice-like mortal, and invincible terror drove me from the room. I flew down the staircase, I know not how, but I believe without touching a single step,--I fled across the rooms and through the corridors, till the freshness of the air convinced me that I had left the castle. I fled, completely unconscious of whither my steps were leading me, until I remembered you had told me I should find you here. A secret instinct--tell me what it was--for I cannot myself comprehend it, had led me in this direction. It appeared to me that I was pursued by shadows, horrid phantoms. At the corner of one of the avenues I thought--(had I then lost my senses?)--I thought I saw my mother, dressed all in black, and walking as noiselessly as a sceptre. Oh! then, then! terror lent me wings--I at first fled without knowing whither; after this my strength failed me, and it was then you heard my cries. I dragged myself along a few more paces, and fell motionless at