“Ladies! Oh, ha—yes—they are within,” he answered, leading the way, through a small, dark passage, to two low rooms, filled with the fumes of tobacco. Hamilton entered, and found his travelling companions actually seated at a table, drinking wine, in a room crowded with Hungarian officers, who seemed equally surprised and amused at the unusual appearance of such an addition to their society. Madame Rosenberg was quietly sipping her wine, and talking earnestly to Major Stultz near a window, quite unconscious of the sensation which she and her party had created and the by no means whispered exclamations of admiration which were echoed on all sides, and which produced most opposite effects on the objects of them. Crescenz looked half-frightened, half-pleased, and blushed incessantly. Hildegarde’s countenance denoted annoyance, bordering on anger, as she sat biting her under lip, while every trace of colour had forsaken her face. Hamilton felt extremely irritated, and looked round the room with a portentous frown, to see if any _one_ had been more forward than the others; but in vain—broad, sallow, good-humoured faces, and small, sparkling black eyes met his angry glance wherever he turned; and as the conversation was now principally carried on in their native language, he could only surmise, but no longer be certain of, the subject of discourse. The eyes of all were still turned on the two sisters; and Hamilton, after a moment’s hesitation, proposed escorting them to the Maximus chapel, which was near, and where they could wait for their mother. Hildegarde started up without asking the permission, which, however, was accorded without difficulty; and the two boys, to their infinite annoyance, were also ordered off. On perceiving their mother engaged in confidential conversation with Major Stultz, they had freely helped themselves to wine, and were now in outrageous spirits. On entering the St. Peter’s churchyard, they commenced springing over the graves in a most irreverent manner, declaring they had never before seen so jolly a churchyard! Crescenz looked infinitely shocked, entreated they would not make so much noise; and finding her remonstrance useless, she turned to the St. Margaret’s chapel, a small building in the middle of the burying-ground, and leaning against the iron railing which formed at once its door and gable-end, she folded her hands reverently, and prayed. The custom in Roman Catholic countries of leaving the church-doors constantly open, most certainly conduces to promote piety. Many a giddy girl whose thoughts have wandered as unrestrained as her glances down the crowded aisle, has sought the same spot afterwards in solitude, to offer up supplications and thanksgivings as fervent, perhaps, as ever were breathed. Much as has been said of the imposing ritual of the Church of Rome—of the almost irresistible effect of high mass, when properly celebrated—it is nothing in comparison to the solemn