"'As the beams of the sun streamed in upon me, I took my dead bride in my arms and stalked gaily down to the saloon of my father. I heard him laughing loudly, and with a laugh I answered him as I carried my burden into his presence. He, too, had something in his arms, and it was the lifeless form of Cerise, crumbling to decay, and fresh from a banquet of worms. We placed our treasures side by side upon a table, and embraced each other with yells of laughter. Higher and higher rose our mirth, and louder grew our shouts of triumph, until the street beneath us was crowded with people, and the servants burst into the saloon where we held our revel. "'We were seized and carried before the Duke, with the cold corpses of my wives; but we laughed when they called us murderers, and cursed when others called us madmen. * * * * * "'The keepers of the madhouse awoke me from my slumbers to tell me that my father had died during the night. What was that to me? I wanted a light burning beside me all night, and then he would not come from the grave to visit me. So I laughed and was merry to think that I was locked up in a madhouse. After many years I was released from my prison, and came thither to take the cowl of a monk. Think not that I am mad, holy father, when I solemnly swear that the shades of my wives stand beside me every night, and only wait until the light goes out, to drag me down to hell. I see them _now_, with bleeding bosom, and throat bearing the prints of my nails! Cerise! Lucia! I defy thee both! The lamp still burns! ha! ha! ha!' "With a horrid laugh brother Dominique fell upon his face on the ground, like one blasted by a stroke from heaven; and with a vague feeling of terror, I crawled stealthily to my own cell. "On the following day we met at morning prayer, in the chapel, but he treated me as though we had never known each other, and the events of the preceding night were never again mentioned by either of us. "One evening, loud peals of laughter were heard issuing from the cell of the maniac, and several of the monks hastened thither with me, to learn its cause. On opening the door, I first beheld the lamp lying extinguished in its niche, while brother Dominique was stretched upon the stony pavement in strong convulsions, giving vent every now and then to sounds of mirth, so dreadful that we stopped our ears, and fled horrified to the superior. When all was again silent we returned to the cell; but the maniac was not there, and the niche was vacant." Such, my boy, was the story related by M. Bonbon, the reading making him hoarse, and the plot suggesting a nightmare also. Yours, staringly, ORPHEUS C. KERR. LETTER LXV.