"On Holy Thursday," wrote Alexandrine, "my mother allowed me to go with my friends, to _Tenebrae_ at the chapel of the palace, to hear the charming music. In spite of my frivolity, the beautiful chapel, the singing, and above all, perhaps, the happiness of praying with Albert, inspired me to such a degree, that I prayed with gentleness and recollection. I was pleased to have the air of a Catholic. M. de La Ferronays took us there, and the return on foot was delightful. It was bright moonlight, and the air was heavy with the perfumes of spring. We went into several churches to pray before the holy tomb. Albert and I threw ourselves upon our knees, one besides the other, on the pavement of the church. I remember that I felt an indescribable calm; and I don't know what I asked from God, but I felt that we both implored his protection for us, and that, we felt it realized." The two families separated on the 30th of April. Alexandrine went with her mother to Germany, Madame de Ferronays took her two oldest daughters and Albert to France, and their father placed the two youngest in the convent de la Trinité du Mont at Rome. They left Naples together, but separated at Civita Vecchia. Albert not feeling well, his father kept him with him; leaving him at the inn, while he took his wife and children to the wharf for embarkation. He embraced them, following with his eyes the receding vessel, sending kisses from afar to the fast-fading shadows; and then when the last faint smoke of the steamer disappears in the circle of the horizon, he sighs, oppressed with a weight to which all are familiar, the heavy weight of loneliness which is inseparable from farewell words to those we love. He returned silently and sadly to the inn, where a frightful spectacle met his eyes. Albert is dying! They are bleeding him; one moment later he would be dead. It is necessary to read for oneself in his own words, the letters of a father to a mother. A father alone, a stranger in an inn, beside the deathbed of his child. "We were kept in an agony of suspense from three o'clock until seven. At seven the perspiration which, until then, had resisted all our efforts, this welcome perspiration showed itself, and became excessive. O my friend! with what faith, with what fervor of gratitude, I thanked heaven! How everything changes its nature and aspect when we nurse an invalid whom we love! The physicians say that this dreadful crisis will re-establish his health. He is saved! O my God! I Frank thee! for today I can feel only joy. O all you who are loved by heaven! give thanks for me, and ask God to smite me, but to spare my poor children." During this time Mademoiselle Alopeus had arrived in Rome, and was once more amid the scenes and associates where she first met Albert, when she learned that, instead of returning to France, he was dying at Civita Vecchia. In despair, she wrote to him, and wished to fly to him; she could not do so, and she