* * * * * The Man is seen standing in a garden lighted by the moon. A gothic church is in the distance. THE MAN. Since the bells rang in my marriage morn, I have dozed away life like a lump of clay, vegetating like a peasant, sleeping like a German boor. The whole world around me seems asleep in my own image. What a monotonous existence! I have visited relations, gone to shops, seen physicians, and when a child was born to me, I went for a nurse. It strikes two upon the tower clock. Return to me! return, O my old and misty realm, so safely sheltered in the world of thought! Ye shadowy yet lovely forms, once wont to throng around me through the lonely midnight hours, hear my adjuration, and return! return! He wrings his hands. O my God! hast Thou in very truth sanctified the ties which link two bodies into one? Hast Thou surely said that nothing should avail to break them, even when the two souls repel each other; when to advance at all, they must move on upon opposing pathways, while the two chained bodies stiffen into frozen corpses? And now that thou art again near me, my all, oh, take me with thee! If thou art but a dream, the creation of an o'erwrought brain, let me too be but a dream, a cloud, a mist, that I may be one with thee! THE MAIDEN. 'Remember, you have sworn to be true until death.' Wilt thou follow me, if I fly near to lead thee on? THE MAN. Stay, and melt not like a dream away! If thou art beautiful above all other beauty; a thought above all other thoughts--why tarriest thou no longer than a wish a fading vision? The window of the house standing in the garden is opened. A FEMALE VOICE. The chill of the night air will fall upon your breast, my dear. Come back, Henry; it is fearful to be here alone in this vast dark room. THE MAN. Yes; in an instant. The fair spirit has vanished, but she promised to return for me--and then farewell house and garden! and farewell wife! created for the house and garden, but not for me! FEMALE VOICE. For God's sake, come in! It grows so chill toward morning. THE MAN. But my child--O God! He leaves the garden. * * * * * A large saloon. Two candles stand upon an open piano. A cradle is near it, in which lies a sleeping child. The Man reclines upon a sofa, covering his face with his hands. The Wife is seated at the piano. WIFE. I have been to see Father Benjamin; he promised to be here day after to-morrow. THE MAN. Thank you. WIFE. I have also sent to the confectioner and ordered cakes and ices, for I suppose you have invited many guests to the baptism of our infant. He is to furnish us with some of those chocolate confections, with the name of our son, George Stanislaus, upon them. THE MAN. Thank you.