By the same rules, however, must the search for variety be guided, as the condition of producing happiness. Means of varying our pleasures, almost to infinity, have been given us by the Almighty, within the limits which he has himself assigned to us. The enjoyment of His own works, the contemplation of His goodness, the devotion to His service, were alone sufficient, were man rightly wise, to afford more varied exercise to the human mind than would fill many a long life, even if the Almighty had not loaded our pathway with opportunities of a thousand other gratifications, innocent in themselves, and endless in their combinations. In fact, the variety which we seek in our way through life must be framed, not partially, but entirely, upon the model of that which we see in creation. Each new endeavour, each alteration of pursuit, must have its high object, and in itself be good; and, as we and our existence are but parts of a great system, so must each change be part of the great system of our life. In an humbler and in a lesser way, he who sits down to tell a tale--intended not alone to while away an idle hour for himself or for others, but also to do some good while it amuses--may well indulge in following every work of nature, and every page in the book of human life, and change the scene continually, varying the characters, the personages, the events which he depicts; but he must also bear in mind that each is a part of one general scheme, each tends to one particular and distinct object. From the court of France and the gay scenes of the capital we must once more travel back to the rugged mountain passes among which our tale began, and to those in whose fate, to say sooth, we are the most interested. Although we are ourselves somewhat anxious to discover what has become of the fair Isabel of Brienne--how her escape has been effected--where she is now wandering--how she is guided, guarded, and protected--we must, nevertheless--though we suspect that her path was dangerous, thorny, and sorrowful--return to Baron de Rohan, and leave him no longer upon the side of the mountain. The young cavalier rode on, accompanied by Corse de Leon, with as much speed as the rough and tortuous nature of the road would admit. The men who brought the horses followed quickly after; and, in about twenty minutes, they reached the spot in the valley where the two roads divided, which we have already mentioned more than once. Here Corse de Leon was about to proceed at the same pace up the shorter road, leaving upon the left hand that by which, upon a former night, he had brought back Isabel de Brienne to the castle of Masseran. One of his followers, however, instantly shouted to him: "Ho! signior, ho! you cannot go by that road except on foot. It was that which kept us so long. The stream is swelled, and the bridge is gone again, and we were obliged to come round the other way."