"My enemies, then, still triumph?" "Richelieu is more powerful, and the king more subject to him than ever." That same night the poor old woman was seized with a burning fever. In her delirium the phantom-man in red still pursued her, and her ravings were terrible to hear. Bridget, seated at her bedside, prayed for her; and at the end of a month she began slowly to recover. Borne down, however, by years, poverty, and misfortune, Marie Marianni felt that her end was approaching. Despite Father Francis's dissuasion, she again had recourse to the astrological tablets, on which were drawn, in black and red figures, the various houses of the sun, and of the star which presided over her nativity. On this occasion their omens were unfavorable; and rejecting all spiritual consolation--miserable in the present, and hopeless for the future--Marie Marianni expired in the beginning of July, 1642. As soon as her death was known a magistrate of Cologne came to her house, in order to make an official entry of the names of the defunct and her heirs. Bridget could not tell either, she merely knew that her late mistress was a stranger. Father Francis arrived. "I can tell you the names of her heirs," he said. "Write--the King of France; Monsieur the Duke of Orleans; Henrietta of France, queen of England." "And what," asked the astounded magistrate, "was the name of the deceased?" "The High and Mighty Princess Marie de Medicis, widow of Henri IV., and mother of the reigning king!" MY NOVEL; OR, VARIETIES IN ENGLISH LIFE. [Continued from the October Number.] CHAPTER XVI.