A fever, more malignant than had been known in Rome for some years, now broke out suddenly. A young woman was attacked; her friends and family refused to fly, and perished with her. The next house experienced the same devastation. Every hour a holy fraternity, veiled in white, accompanied the dead to interment; themselves appearing like the ghosts of those they followed. The bodies, with their faces uncovered, are borne on a kind of litter. Over their feet is thrown a pall of gold or rose-colored satin; and children often unconsciously play with the cold hands of the corpse. This spectacle, at once terrific and familiar, is graced but by the monotonous murmur of a psalm, in which the accent of the human soul can scarce be recognized. One evening, when Oswald and Corinne were alone together, and he more depressed than usual by her altered manner, he heard, beneath the windows, these dreary sounds, announcing a funeral; he listened awhile in silence, and then said: "Perhaps to-morrow I may be seized by this same malady, against which there is no defence; you will then wish that you had said a few kind words to me on the day that may be my last. Corinne, death threatens us both closely. Are there not miseries enough in life, that we should thus mutually augment each other's?" Struck by the idea of his danger, she now entreated him to leave Rome instantly; he stubbornly refused: she then proposed their going to Venice; to this he cheerfully assented: it was for her alone that he had trembled. Their departure was fixed for the second day from this; but on that morning, Oswald, who had not seen Corinne the night before, received a note, informing him that indispensable business obliged her to visit Florence; but that she should rejoin him at Venice in a fortnight; she begged him to take Ancona in his way, and gave him a seemingly important commission to execute for her there. Her style was more calm and considerate than he had found it since they left Naples. He believed her implicitly, and prepared for his journey; but, wishing once more to behold the dwelling of Corinne ere he left Rome, he went thither, found it shut up, and rapped at the door. An old woman appeared, told him that all the other servants had gone with her mistress, and would not answer another word to his numerous questions. He hastened to Prince Castel Forte, who was as surprised as himself at Corinne's abrupt retirement. Nevil, all anxiety, imagined that her agent at Tivoli must have received some instructions as to her affairs. He mounted his horse with a promptitude unusual to him, and, in extreme agitation, rode to her country house; its doors were open; he entered, passed some of the rooms without meeting any one, till he reached that of Corinne: though darkness reigned there, he saw her on her bed, with Thérésina alone beside her; he uttered a cry of recognition: it recalled her to consciousness: she raised herself, saying eagerly: "Do not come near me! I forbid you! I