“Mon Dieu, Monsieur, it is not possible y répondre. Les sentiments des demoiselles are nevair décides!” “Go then, and say to her, that my sentiments are decided to curtail certain bequests and devises, which have consulted her interests more than strict justice to others of my blood—aye, and even of my name, might dictate.” “Monsieur y réfléchira. Mam’selle Alide be so young personne!” “Old or young, my mind is made up; and so to your Cour des Fées, and tell the lazy minx as much.—Thou hast ridden that innocent, thou scowling imp of darkness!” “Mais, pensez-y, je vous en prie, Monsieur. Mam’selle shall nevair se sauver encore; jamais, je vous en répond.” “What is the fellow jabbering about?” exclaimed the Alderman, whose mouth fell nearly to the degree that rendered the countenance of the valet so singularly expressive of distress. “Where is my niece, sir?—and what means this allusion to her absence?” “La fille de Monsieur de Barbérie n’y est pas!” cried François, whose heart was too full to utter more. The aged and affectionate domestic laid his hand on his breast, with an air of acute suffering; and then, remembering the presence of his superior, he turned, bowed with a manner of profound condolence, struggled manfully with his own emotion, and succeeded in getting out of the room with dignity and steadiness. It is due to the character of Alderman Van Beverout, to say, that the blow occasioned by the sudden death of the Flemish gelding, lost some of its force, in consequence of so unlooked-for a report concerning the inexplicable absence of his niece. Euclid was questioned, menaced, and even anathematized, more than once, during the next ten minutes; but the cunning slave succeeded in confounding himself so effectually with the rest of his connexions of the half-blood, during the search which instantly followed the report of François, that his crime was partially forgotten. On entering la Cour des Fées, it was, in truth, found to want her whose beauty and grace had lent its chief attraction. The outer rooms, which were small, and ordinarily occupied during the day by François and the negress called Dinah, and in the night by the latter only, were in the state in which they might be expected to be seen. The apartment of the attendant furnished evidence that its occupant had quitted it in haste, though there was every appearance of her having retired to rest at the usual hour. Clothes were scattered carelessly about; and though most of her personal effects had disappeared enough remained to prove that her departure had been hurried and unforeseen.