from a fourgon which had preceded them. There was literally a dense crowd round this carriage, each in turn taking his place on the steps and leaning on the open door. Lady C---- proclaimed almost every name in the English peerage, in the diplomatic corps, in the artistic and political world, as she introduced in succession every new comer to her distinguished guest. The Chevalier de Benkhausen, well known as a wit and a "bon vivant," absorbed all the good things, though saying brilliant ones at the same time. Lord C---- had descended from the box and stood on the other side, occasionally exchanging salutations with his friends, but without allowing his hand to quit the door of the carriage on the side nearest Sontag, on which he stood, and many eyes were ready to seize that envied position, but he maintained it in right of a previous acquaintance in Berlin, with the beautiful _prima donna_. Nina Sontag, who was a pretty girl of fifteen, kept eating, drinking, bowing, and talking, but took particular care to hand up wings of chicken and glasses of champagne to the very handsome foreigner, who still retained his place on the box, having apparently taken literally the scene before him, and fancying that it was really his duty to look at the race, which every one else seemed to have forgotten. Nobody knew much about him; he had come from Berlin (which accounted for his intimacy with Nina), was a new attache of the Sardinian embassy, and had been introduced to Lady C---- by M. de Benkhausen as le Comte Rossi. Suddenly the crowd round the carriage gave way on each side before a tall fine man and a slight girlish woman enveloped in a large black lace mantilla, and wearing a simple Leghorn bonnet. M. de Benkhausen, on perceiving her, sprang from the carriage, took her hand, and assisted her into his place, saying, "Mademoiselle, j'ai l'honneur de vous presenter Madame Malibran." They gazed one instant at each other, another instant and their hands were clasped, and a tear glistened in the eye of the daughter of the South, who was passion's essence, whilst a deeper tint mantled the cheek of the more reserved German. Nina's laugh abruptly stopped, even the phlegmatic Count Rossi turned quickly round, and Lord C---- reverently took off his hat. But few words were exchanged, and then they parted, Malibran taking the arm of De Beriot, and being followed by as numerous a train as the one they left behind. Thus for the first time met the two greatest musical geniuses of the age. Two nights after was the eventful night. The King's Theatre, as it was then called, presented the most beautiful sight it is possible to imagine. Fashion for once had forgotten itself, and every box, which on ordinary nights it is voted vulgar to fill, was occupied by four or five ladies in full dress, a dress which it is the peculiar prerogative of English women to become, better than any other women in the world. HENRIETTE SONTAG AND THE EMPEROR OF RUSSIA. BY