go.

going away, called Doctor. I knew, therefore, that I people want with me?" thought I. But I promised to had before me another member of the melancholy The adventure began, if not to amuse, at least to travellers. The Doctor looked at me at my supper, excite my curiosity. for a while silently. He appeared to be watching me. I found the Count alone in his room; he was walking He then began to ask me in French, from whence 1 with great strides up and down-a tall, strong, respectcame, and where I thought of going? When he heard able looking man, with a dignified appearance, and I was a German, he became more friendly, and con- pleasing, though melancholy features. He came immeversed with me in our native tongue. In answer to my diately to meet me, and apologized for having sent for questions, I learned that Count Hormegg was travel- | me―led me to a seat, mentioned what he had heard of ling with his sick daughter to Venice. me through the Doctor, and repeated his offers, which I as modestly, but firmly declined. He went thoughtfully, with his hands thrown behind his back, to the window, returned hastily, seated himself near me, and taking my hand in his, said, "Friend, I appeal to your heart. My eye must deceive me much if you are not an honest man-consequently sincere. Remain with me, I entreat you-remain only two years. Count upon my deepest gratitude. You shall have, during that time, whatever you need, and at the expiration of it, I will pay you a thousand louisd'ors; you will not repent having lost a couple of years in my service." He said this so kindly and entreatingly, that I was much moved, more so by the tone and manner, than by the promise of so large a sum, which secured me, with my trifling wants, a free and independent fortune. I would have accepted the offer, had I not been ashamed to show, that at last I had yielded to vile gold. On the other side, his brilliant offers seemed to me suspicious.

"Could you not," said the Doctor, "give us your company, since you have no particular object in going to Germany? You are more familiar with the Italian language than we are,-know the country, the manners and the healthy parts. You could be of great service to us. The Count could take you immediately in the place of his late secretary. You will be free of expense, have a comfortable life, six hundred louisd'ors salary, and to that added the known liberality of the Count." I shook my head and remarked, that neither did I know the Count, nor the Count me, sufficiently to foresee whether we should be agreeable to each other. The Doctor now made the Count's eulogium. I replied in return, that it would be very difficult to say so much to my advantage to the Count.

"Oh, if that is all," cried he hastily, "you are already recornmended; you may therefore rely on it."

"Recommended! By whom?"

The Doctor appeared to be seeking for words, in order to rectify his hastiness.

“Eh, why, through necessity—I can promise you, that the Count will pay you an hundred louisd'ors down, if you—"

“No,” replied I, "I have never in my life labored for superfluities; only for what is necessary. From childhood I have been accustomed to an independent life. I am far from being rich, yet I will never sell my freedom."

The Doctor appeared to be irritated. In truth, I was serious in what I said. Add to this, that I particularly desired not to return to Italy, in order that my passion for the arts should not resume its power. I do not deny, also, that the sudden importunity of the Doctor and the general behavior of these travellers, were disagreeable to me, though I certainly did not believe that the sick Countess was possessed by a legion of devils. As all his persuasions had no other effect than to make me more unwilling, the Doctor left me. I then reflected on all the different little circumstances-weighed my poverty against the comfortable existence in the train of the rich Count, and played with the little money in my pocket, which was all my riches. The result of these reflections were,-"Away from Italy; God's world stands open before you. Be firm! only peace in the breast a village school and independence! I must first endeavor to recover my individuality. Yes, I have lost all the whole plan of my life-gold cannot replace it."

NEW OFFERS,

My surprise was not a little increased, when, scarcely ten minutes after the Doctor's departure, a servant of the Count appeared, and begged me, in his name, to visit him in his room, "What in the world do these

"For such a sum, my lord, you can command much more distinguished talents than mine. You do not know me."

I then spoke to him openly of my past destiny and occupation, and thought by that means, without vexing him, to put aside his offers, as well as his desire to have me.

"We must not separate," said he, as he pressed my hand entreatingly. "We must not, since it is you alone that I have sought. It may astonish you; but on your account only, have I undertaken this journey with my daughter; on your account have I chosen the worst road from Villach here, that I might not miss you; on your account have I stopped at this inn."

I looked at the Count with astonishment, and thought he wished to jest with me.

"How could you seek me, since you knew me not? Since no one knew the road I wandered? I, myself, three days ago, knew not that I should take this road to Germany."

"Is not this a fact?" continued he: "This afternoon you rested in a wood; you sat, full of sorrow, in a wil│derness; you leaned on a rock, under a large tree; you gazed at the mountain torrent; you ran on impetuously in the rain. Is it not so? Confess candidly—is it not so?"

At these words, my senses almost forsook me. He saw my consternation, and said, "Well, it is so! you are indeed the man I seek,"

"But," cried I, "I do not deny that some superstitious horrors seized me," and I drew my hand out of his. "But who watched me? Who told you of it?" "My daughter-my sick daughter. I can easily believe that to you it appears wonderful. But the unfortunate one says and sees many strange things in her sickness. Four weeks since, she declared, that only through your means could she be restored to perfect

as an impostor; and in God's wide world I had no employment or living.

"I renounce all your generous offers, my lord," said I; "give me only so much as I have need of. I will accompany you. It is sufficient for me, if I may hope to contribute to your happiness and your daughter's recovery, though, as yet, I in no way comprehend the how. A human life is of much value; I shall be proud if I have it in my power, one day, to believe that I have saved the life of a human being. But I release you from all that you promised me; I do nothing for money. On the contrary, I will, moreover, maintain my independence. I will remain in your retinue as long as I can be of service to you, or can find my life comfortable

health. As you now appear before me, so did my daughter describe you four weeks ago. Perhaps about fourteen days since she declared, that you came, sent by God, to meet us, and that we must break up and seek you. We set out. She directed the way we should take at least the part of the world we should go to. With the compass in the carriage, and the map in hand, we travelled, uncertain where, like a ship at sea. At Villach, she pointed out the nearest way to you, described even the particulars, and that we must leave the high road. From Hortensia's mouth, I learnt this morning how near you were, and at the same time the little circumstances which I have mentioned to you. Immediately after your arrival, Dr. Walter declared to me, that from the description of the host, you resem-in it. If you agree to these terms, then I am in your bled exactly the person whom Hortensia, four weeks service. You can introduce me to your invalid." ago, and since that time, almost daily had described. I am now convinced of it, and since so much has already been fulfilled, I do not for a moment doubt that you and no other can save my daughter, and give me back my lost happiness."

He was silent, and waited my answer. I sat long, uncertain and silent. I had never in my life met with so singular an adventure.

"What you tell me, my lord, is somewhat incomprehensible, and therefore, with your permission, somewhat incredible. I am, or rather I was, nothing but an artist; and I know nothing of medicine."

The Count's eyes shone with joy. He enclosed me silently in his arms, and pressed me to his heart, whilst he merely sighed, "Thank God." After a time he said, "To-morrow you shall see my daughter. She has already gone to rest. I must prepare her for your presence."

Prepare her for my presence?" exclaimed I, surprised. "Did you not tell me a few minutes since that she had announced my arrival and described my person?"

"Your pardon, dear Faust; I forgot to inform you of one circumstance. My daughter is like a double person. When she is in her natural state, she is in no way conscious of what she hears, sees, knows and says in her state of trance, if I may so call it. She does not recollect the smallest trifle that occurred during that

and acted as we related to her, if she had not every reason to place confidence in my words. But in her trance she remembers all that has passed in a similar state, as well as what she has experienced in her usual and natural life. It is only during her trance that she has seen and described you, but out of that knows nothing of you, except what we, by repeating her own expressions, have been able to inform her; you are, therefore, entirely unknown to her. Let us only wait for one of her extraordinary moments, and I have no doubt she will immediately recollect you.”

"There is much in life," said he, "that is incompre hensible to us, but all that is incomprehensible is not therefore incredible, particularly when we cannot put aside the reality, and the phenomenon stands before us, whose cause lies hidden from us. You are no physi-period, and would herself doubt that she had spoken cian; that may be. But the same power which discovered to my daughter your existence in the world, has, without doubt, destined you to be her saviour. In my youth I was a free thinker, who scarcely believed in God, and can now, in my mature age, even go as far as any old woman, and consider as possible the existence of devils, witches, spectres and familiar spirits. Hence is explained both my importunity and my offers. The first is pardonable in a father who lives in constant anxiety about his only child, and my offers are not too great for the saving of so precious a life. I see how unexpected, extraordinary and romantic it must all appear to you; but remain with us, and you will be a witness of many unexpected things. Do you wish for an occupation exempt from the care and trouble of a journey? It depends upon yourself to choose. I will impose no labor on you. Remain only as my confi-dressed herself, written letters to those present, or dential companion, my comforter. I have now before me a heavy hour, perhaps it is very near: one of our company will suddenly, and if I rightly understand, in an unusual manner, die. It may be myself. My daughter has foretold it, and it will happen. I tremble to meet the fatal moment, from which my whole fortune cannot redeem me. I am a very unhappy man."

He said still more, and was even moved to tears. I found myself in a singular dilemma. All that I heard, excited sometimes my astonishment, sometimes my just doubts. Sometimes I had a suspicion of the right understanding of the Count, and sometimes supposed the error was my own. At last I made the courageous resolution to attempt the adventure, come what would of it. It appeared to me unjust to consider the Count

In a conversation of some hours, I learnt from the Count, that his daughter had had for years, even from a child, an inclination to sleep-walking. In a state of somnambulism, she had, without being able to recollect it afterwards, with closed eyes, left her bed,

played the most difficult pieces on the piano, and executed a hundred other trifles, with a skill, which she not only did not possess when awake, but which she could not afterwards acquire. The Count believed that that which he now sometimes called a trance, and sometimes transfiguration, was nothing more than a higher grade of somnambulism, but which enfeebled his daughter almost to death.

that I may not entirely forget my noble language, | arm with the hand; in another place, three fingers with which would in truth be a shame. You have spoken gold rings, and the foot of a lady, partly charred. with the Count ?" "Great God," cried the Count, turning pale-"what

"I have spoken with him. I shall now travel with is that?" He observed, shuddering, the remains of a him to Italy, and remain in your company." human figure. He saw the fingers with the rings, and sprang with a loud shriek to meet the Doctor, who was entering. "Mrs. Montlue is burnt, yet no fire, no smoke! Incomprehensible!"

"Upstairs, in a chamber: I saw the bright flames out- So much nobleness in figure, movement and features I side the window."

"Another piece of devilry!" sighed he, and hurried stood still, and cried out in the German language, and into the kitchen.

dent had filled the whole house with noise. I sat on convulsions, after which she had a quiet sleep. She my chair, amidst all these wonders, estranged from my- appeared tranquil on awaking, but desired to leave the self. Long after midnight, the host showed me a small unfortunate house immediately. room where there was a bed.

ANTIPATHY.

Probably in order to prepare me for my future situation, he added-"I am obliged to pardon and yield much to my sick child. She is of unconquerable obstinacy. From her extraordinary irritability, the least contradiction moves her to anger, and a slight vexation is sufficient to cause many days of suffering. I have announc

asked if I might introduce you to her. Her answer was, "Do you think I have so much curiosity? It will be time enough when we are in Venice." I think, however, we shall have sufficient opportunities on the way. Do not allow the humors of my daughter to vex you, my dear Faust. She is a sick, unfortunate creature, whom we must treat with tenderness, lest we destroy her. She is my only treasure, my last joy on earth. The loss of Mrs. Montlue does not appear to be painful to her, as she had lately, I know not from what cause, taken an aversion to her. Perhaps the slight, certainly not violent, inclination of that person to strong drink, was disgusting to her. Dr. Walter affirms, also, that this habit was the cause of her spontaneous combustion. Formerly, she was a very good woman, and much attached to my daughter and myself. I lament her loss very deeply. Dr. Walter related to me other instances, which must be extremely rare, of the spontaneous combustion of the human body, by which it is in a few moments reduced to ashes. He endeavored to account for the phenomenon on very natural grounds, but I cannot comprehend it. Only this much I know, this burning-door of death is one of the most frightful."

After the fatigues of the past day, I slept soundly till near mid-day. As I awoke, the events of yester-ed your arrival to her: she heard it with indifference. I day appeared like a feverish phantom, or the illusions of intoxication. I could neither convince myself of their truth, nor yet doubt them. I considered every thing now with greater composure of mind. I no longer hesitated to remain with the Count. I rather followed him with pleasure and curiosity, so entirely new and wonderful did my destiny appear. Then also, what had I to lose in Germany? What even in life? What could I risk in following the Count? At last, it only depended upon myself to break the thread of the romance as soon as its length became disagreeable to me. When I entered the public room, I found it filled with the overseers of the place, police officers, Capuchins and peasants of the neighboring country, who had been drawn thither either from motives of curiosity or by their official duties. Not one of them doubted but that the burning of the lady was the work of the devil. The Count, indeed, had the remains of the unfortunate woman buried by his own people. But it was thought proper that the whole house should be consecrated and blessed by the reverend Capuchin fathers, in order that it might be purified from the evil spirit. This was a considerable expense. There was a question, whether we should be arrested and given to justice; but it was disputed whether we should be delivered to the civil or ecclesiastical authority. The majority were in favor of our being taken to Undine and brought before the arch-bishops.

The Count, not being master of the Italian language, was glad when he saw me. He had in vain offered a large sum of money to defray the expenses occasioned by the extraordinary circumstances. He entreated me, to finish the business with the people in his name.

I immediately drew near the priests and police officers, and declared to them, that until now, I had had as little connection with the Count as themselves, and offered two things for their consideration; either the misfortune of the burning had happened naturally, or at least without the participation of the Count, in which case they would bring much trouble on themselves by the arrest of so high a nobleman; or he was truly in league with bad spirits, in which case, he could out of revenge play some bad tricks on them, their cloister and their village. Their wisest course was to take the Count's money and let him go; they would then have no responsibility or resentment to fear, and in any case would be the gainers. My reasons were obvious. The money was paid. Our horses were given us-we mounted and rode on. The prospect cleared up. The Countess with the women and other servants, had gone some hours before; the Count, with only one servant, having remained behind. On the way, he began to speak of the frightful event of the past evening. He said his daughter had been very much overcome by it. She had suffered, for some hours, with cramps and

Thus spoke the Count, and this formed the subject of our conversation to Venice. For the young Countess had now the humor, notwithstanding her bodily weakness and the objections of her father and physician, to make the journey by long day's rides, and with no other delay than the nightly rest demanded. I had not, therefore, the honor of an introduction. Nay, I must even keep at a distance, since, alas! I had not the good fortune to please her.

She was carried in a sedan chair-servants ran near her on foot. The women rode, and the Count likewise in his own carriage. The Doctor and myself rode on horseback.

As the Countess one morning came out of the inn to mount her sedan, she perceived me, and said to Dr. Walter, "Who is that man, that forever and eternally follows us ?"

"Mr. Faust, my lady."

"A disagreeable fellow-send him back."

"You yourself have wished for him; it was on his account that the journey was undertaken. Consider him as the medicine which you have ordered for your self."

"He has the disgusting qualities common to all drugs."

I was near enough to hear this not very flattering speech, and know not what countenance I put on, though I well recollect that I was almost vexed, and should immediately have left the whimsical Venus, had not the Count been so kind. I could not affirm that I was a handsome man, but I knew that generally I did not displease the women. But now only to be endured as disgusting me

dicine, was too severe on the vanity of a young man, especially for one who, had he been a Prince or Count, would not have hesitated to have joined himself to the adorers of the charming Hortensia.

In the meanwhile I continued with them. The Countess reached Venice without any particular accident, and her medicine followed obediently after. A magnificent palace was hired, in which I had an apartment, and also servants, particularly appropriated to my service. The Count lived in great style, as it is called. He had many friends amongst the Venitian nobility.

THE TRANCE.

We had been about four days in Venice, when one afternoon I was hastily sent for by the Count. He received me with an unusually cheerful countenance.

"My daughter," said he, "has inquired for you. Indeed, no day has passed without her speaking of you: she has done so already to-day; but now is the first time that she has desired your presence. Enter her room with me, but very gently; the least noise throws her into dangerous cramps."

so. To me it was as if I stood before a divinity. The soft symmetry of her form, and her countenance, which seemed to belong to the unearthly, had likewise disembodied my soul. Never had I seen grace and sublimity so united. Hortensia's face was, as I had before seen it, it is true, only transiently or from a distance, pale, suffering and gloomy; now it was quite different. An uncommon delicate color was spread over it, like the reflection from the rose. In all her features swam a light, such as a human countenance, under ordinary circumstances, could never obtain, either by nature or art. The expression of the whole was a solemn smile, and yet no smile, but rather an inward delight. This extraordinary state was justly called transfiguration by her companions, but such a transfiguration, no painter in his moments of inspiration, ever saw or imagined. Let one, therefore, figure to himself the statue-like position, the marble stillness of the features, with the eyes closed as in sleep. Never before had I felt such fearful delight.

"But," asked I, with secret horror, "what does she imbibes this brilliancy-this health-bringing flood of wish me to do?"

"Who can answer ?" replied the Count, "Wait for the future. May God direct all."

light."

At this somewhat poetical form of speech, the drugs, with which I had the melancholy honor of being compared to a few days before, involuntarily recurred to me, and I continued silent, taking no notice of the gold and silver rays.

We entered a large state chamber, hung round with green silk hangings. Two female servants were leaning, silent and anxious, near the window-the Doctor sat on a sofa, watching the invalid. She stood upright, "Be not angry with her in thy thoughts, Emanuel," with closed eyes, in the middle of the room-one of her said Hortensia. "Be not angry that her weakness and beautiful arms was hanging down, the other, half rais-distempered wit compared thee with bitter remedies. ed, stiff and immoveable as a statue. Only the move- Be more generous than the thoughtless one, by sufferment of her bosom betrayed breath. The solemn silence ing misled, and often by earthly weaknesses given up which reigned, the goddess-like figure of Hortensia, upon to frenzy." whom all eyes were fixed, filled me with involuntary yet pleasing horror.

At these words the Doctor threw a smiling look on me-I also towards the Doctor, but with a gesture of astonishment, not because the proud beauty humbled herself to an apology, but that she appeared to have guessed my thoughts.

As soon as I entered this silent sanctuary, the Countess, without opening her eyes, or changing her position, said, with an indescribable sweet voice, "At last, Emanuel! why dost thou keep so far off? O come hither, "Oh! distract not thy attention, Emanuel!" said the and bless her, that she may be cured of her sufferings." transfigured quickly. "Thou speakest with the Doctor. I probably looked rather foolish at this speech, being | uncertain whether or not it regarded me. The Count and Doctor motioned me to draw nearer, and gave me a sign that I should, like a priest, make the sign of the cross towards, or else, as blessing her, lay my hands on her.

I approached, and raised my hands over her wonderfully beautiful head. But from extreme respect, had not courage to touch her. I let my hands sink slowly down again. Hortensia's countenance seemed to betray discontent. I again raised my hands, and held them stretched out towards her, uncertain what I was to do. Her countenance cleared, which induced me to remain in that position. My embarrassment, however, increased as the Countess said, "Emanuel, thou hast not yet the will to relieve her. O, only give thy will-thy will. Thou art all powerful. Thy will can do all."

On her alone turn thy thoughts, and on her safety. It distresses her when thy thoughts for one moment leave her. Continue in the firm desire to penetrate her half dissolved being with the beneficial power of thy light. Seest thou how powerful thy will is? The stiffened fibres relax and melt like the winter's frost in the sun's rays."

I had, truly, but the moment before left the arm chair standing before the table. But the Countess had never seen my room. As I reached the key of the room to one "Gracious Countess,” said I, “doubt all, but not my of the women, Hortensia said, “Is that the key? I did will to assist you." I said this truly, with the greatest not understand those dark spots. Thou hast in the left earnestness. For had she commanded me to throw my-pocket of thy vest, yet another key-put it away from self into the sea for her, I should with joy have done thee." I did so. It was the key of my press.