speed of his horse had in fact left them so| far in the rear, that on arriving at the edge of the dark forest, whose boughs intercepted the moon's rays, they had drawn up.

They were now returning to Orthez at a walk. Every one had determined in his own mind to tell the Viscount, without mentioning the incident of the arrow, that the Moor had been pursued to the banks of the Adour.

Meanwhile what happened to Kaf, and where did the Arabian stop? The horse continued his flying speed. The Moor prayed to Allah and the prophet more fervently as he felt himself grow weaker. At last his voice died away, his eyes swam, and he fell forward on his horse and fainted.

He was brought to consciousness by a chilly feeling and a noise. He opened his eyes and looked about him. His horse was buried to the neck in the Adour, and the noise which Kaf had heard was that made by the animal in swimming. The moon had nearly sunk behind the tops of the trees, and a chill wind coming from the Gulf of Gascony, penetrated to the Moor's limbs through his garments dripping with water.

The Arab emerged from the river, climbed the bank and continued his flight snorting and panting with fatigue.

Kaf, overcome with pain and weakness, fainted a second time.

"You were brought," said the old man laconically.

"Explain yourself, if you please, father." "It happened thus, then," replied the old shepherd. "At sunrise we were watching our flocks down there within a league of the Adour, when a horse came out of the woods, and after going fifty paces with a staggering step, fell upon his side❞—

"Where is he-where is my horse!" interrupted the Moor, abruptly.

So far from being offended, this care for his horse seemed to raise the Moor much in the old man's opinion.

"He is safe," he said; "do not fear. But I was relating to you how you became my guest."

In uttering these words the old man looked around his little hut as Nero looked around his palace of gold.

"You had fainted," he continued, "with both arms clasped around the animal's neck. We brought you here and drew from your breast an arrow. See, there it is!"

The Moor closed his eyes.

"I am hot," he said; "my bosom is burning; but I must arise and go on my way." The old man looked surprised, and then replied calmly,

"That is impossible, brother."

Why impossible, father?" "You have a fever."

"Nevertheless I must go. Be good enough therefore to get ready my horse." "Let me ask you a question, brother. Why do you fly?"

"To save my life," replied Kaf. "If I am found here I shall be assassinated." "You cannot be found." "Why, father?"

When he opened his eyes he was lying in a hut on the brow of a mountain. Through a little square opening which served for a window, he saw the slopes of hills descending gradually to the plain, and covered with flocks of black sheep. He turned his head and saw an old man of sixty, with muscular limbs, and a white beard, and clad in a garment of sheepskin, from the belt of which "Because a troop of men have already hung a knife, or rather the case which usu- come here to search for you and they did not ally contained it. At the moment the old find you. Behind this hut is a hollow in the shepherd was busied in cutting out a pair of hill, where your horse now is. You were sandals. carried there, for I suspected something when they were yet at a distance."

"Father," said the Moor, addressing this respectful title to the old man, after the custom of the Arabs, "how did I come here?" The shepherd rose, approached the bed, and said in Spanish

"Soldiers!" said the Moor, faintly. Then he suddenly gave a violent start. "What now, brother?" asked the old shepherd.

My casket-the box!" was all the Moor

"What do you ask, brother?" "How I came to this hut?" asked the could say. Moor in Spanish.

"It is here," said the shepherd, and ta

"Many thanks for your lordship's kindness."

Indeed," said the Count, "that was the reason. You are not mistaken. Oh my dear chevalier, you cannot imagine the effect which the continual sight of what once surrounded our friends now dead, has upon the frame. You know my dear brother? Well, he has perished in the Lombardy expedition, almost before it was entered upon. He had a favorite hound here, who made my life miserable, he so often reminded me of his master. Yesterday I was compelled to kill him with a stroke of my poniard.”

Evan made no reply.

At an early hour Evan set out from Orthez, followed by Molart his squire, passed that meadow in which Froissart encountered "If you had remained at Orthez, Messire his singing shepherds and going along the Evan," continued the Count, "every obbanks of the Gave de Pau arrived at that ject would have reminded you of your town, and finally at Auch, where the Counts father. He would have been kept in perof Armagnac had their residence. petual remembrance. It would have killed you."

Evan found the Count just returning from the chase with a hawk on his wrist and followed by half a dozen Italian grey hounds in leashes.

"My lord, I shall always remember him." "Do so, Messire Evan, and take him as your model. He was the worst enemy of

He was tall, stalwart in frame, and dark our house, but he was also a brave and nobearded. He had however no sooner caught ble prince. May his soul rest in peace." a glimpse of the young Knight than his grim It was impossible to say whether these features relaxed, a smile covered them and words were hypocritical, or the Count's real he welcomed him with great appearance of sentiments. Gaston had been most cordiaffection. In five minutes they entered the ally hated by him whilst alive, but it was castle, and here a double meal had been also true that the Count de Foix had imserved at the Count's first appearance out-pressed even his enemies with a sort of adside the walls of the town. He had once miration. been kept waiting, or like Louis XIV., almost suffered that indignity, and the cook had suffered so from a blow dealt him by the Count that thereafter a sort of magical promptress, had been the order of his household. Thus it was that when they entered, a private and a public banquet awaited them. The first for the Count if he chose it, the latter for his train of Knights and retainers. On this occasion he chose the former.

Count Bernard pressed his rich wines upon Evan, and his richer food with great earnestness and hospitality. Evan however remembered the caution of Sir Roger. He ate little and drank less.

"Who will succeed now to Monseigneur's authority?" asked the Count after a moment's silence.

"Messire de Chateaubon is his lawful heir."

"Was the Viscount's claim allowed by your father?"

"No, my lord. He had taken a deep dislike to him."

"To his cousin ?"

"Yes. I know not why."

"But I can tell you, Seigneur Evan. Messire the Viscount is a coward."

ton Phoebus, and a Knight so brave as his Evan! raise your standard and in twentyson, I forgot the relationship."

Evan bowed to the Count.

"And the people of Foix and Bearne, what do they say to this Viscount."

"The Bearnese acknowledge his claim; the Foixiens are undecided."

"As I thought. The Bearnese are foxes, and the Foixiens wolves, who will not have a fox like the Viscount for their lord."

The King of France has a claim on Foix; they wish the Viscount first to discharge this claim."

four hours you will be at the head of an army!"

"An army!" said the young knight, the blood mounting to his forehead, his eyes sparkling; "at the head of an army !”

"An army of such chivalry," continued the Count, observing his advantage, "as all the rest of France cannot equal; and all these valorous Knights will look to you as their leader and obey you as their prince. Is it not a glorious prospect?"

The words were uttered with such spirit"It is politic. But allow me to return the picture was so dazzling that Evan for a to Gaston de Foix. Whom did he mention moment was carried away by its glitter.

on his death bed for his successor ?"

"Myself," said Evan.

"I knew it."

How so, my lord ?"

That is to say I guessed it. There is

He involuntarily raised his head; his cheeks became purple, and his quivering nostrils seemed, like those of the war-horse, to snuff up the breeze of the battle.

"Come-come!" said the Count, "all no such immense acuteness in judging that this will be yours. With the treasures of the Count should desire his own son rather the Count you may purchase the services of than a kinsman who is his enemy, to succeed all the free companies in France, and these him.” will sweep opposition from your path as the But, Messire, you forget that I am not north wind scatters the brown leaves of winhis son in a lawful manner. The bar-sin-ter!"

ter."

The Count awaited Evan's reply in tri"A sinister, what is that? A trifle? If umph. It came upon him like an electric I got my clerk Comine to read you all the shock. instances of sinisters founding dynasties, it would take up your time for a week."

"And you, my Lord," said Evan, calmly, "what have you decreed for yourself in case "My lord I want no usurped authority." I become monarch of the country from Per"Look at Henry de Transtamare and pignan to Dan? To be my chief counsellor! William of Normandy!" continued the Have you reflected that in sweeping my eneCount: "what prevents you from being one mies from my path, I must begin with the of these great men of history. The want of house of Armagnac as the oldest, the worst money? You have your father's resources. and the most powerful of all?-the only one The want of lawful title? The Viscount is at all able to withstand such an army?" hated; you are beloved;-or is it the want of bravery?"

"Messire!"

Why there you stand, a thousand feet above this Lord of Chateaubon."

Evan could not help feeling that these words did him nothing more than simple justice.

The Count turned crimson and fire seemed to dart from his eyes, they became so brilliant.

"Monseigneur Bernard," continued Evan, "let us lay aside all false reasoning and come to the heart of the proposal which you make me. I am to assert a claim to the Countship of Foix on the ground that the "I know," continued the Count, becom- true heir was distasteful to my father, whose ing more excited as he proceeded-" I know intention, expressed to me on his death bed, from my emissaries in Bearne and Foix that was to leave his authority to no other than your opponent is distasteful to a majority of myself. I am further to take advantage of the people, from his enmity to the late Count, the dislike borne towards my cousin by the and for his pride, his want of courage and people, to deprive him of his just rights." his insulting arrogance to the commons. "Well, well, god's death, what then?'

"I refuse unconditionally," said Evan, mourners. rising from his seat; "I wish to remain a simple Knight."

There giving his horse to Molart he pushed forward and made his way into the church.

The Viscount, the Knignt of Espagne and two other lords of high rank, received the leaden coffin and bore it to the spot where the grave had been hollowed out in the pave

The Count frowned, remained an instant silent and then gradually lapsed into a smile. "You are a noble gentleman, Messire Evan," he said. "I admire you." Again it was impossible to say if this was ment. spoken truly or artfully.

"I have made you a magnificent proposal," continued the Count. "You have not accepted it. So much the worse. Do not think I am not as much your friend as ever I swear to you I am more so than before, and in proof of it here is my hand and with it I offer you hospitality for as long as you can stay at Auch."

Evan remained with the Count more than a week, thereby causing inexpressible torment to the Viscount de Chateaubon.

At the end of that time, he took leave of the Count and departed with Molart for Or

thez.

CHAPTER XXIX.

HOW THE HAWK ENDED THE COMBAT.

The travellers reached a hill overlooking the town of Orthez just as the sun was setting behind a mass of clouds, one rolled above another and opening like the entrance to heaven, or the garden of Paradise as we see it illumined by the glare of the flaming sword.

Then mass was said, and the Knights charged with the duty, advanced to the altar and made the offerings of the Count's war-horse, shield, helmet and sword. When this ceremony had been performed, the Viscount assisted by three others lowered the coffin into the grave.

"And now Messieurs," he said, "to business! To-morrow at noon an assembly of barons and chevaliers will be held at the castle. Be pleased to give your attendance."

"Sacrilege, sacrilege!" said a hollow. voice near and every one turning round, they saw Evan who seemed to be going mad. He advanced to the edge of the grave, extended his hands above it, and God knows what terrible apostrophe against the Viscount might have proceeded from his lips, had not two Knights led him away almost by force.

This incident seemed to have affected the Viscount de Chateaubon inconceivably. He trembled and turned deadly pale, but as Evan's words had been so violent, no one was much surprised except those who knew his nature, usually so cold and immovable.

The service for the dead was then heard and the crowd retired, leaving no one but the watches who all night long stood torch in hand around the grave.

Noon had come and the assemblage proclaimed by the Viscount had met at the cas

An unusual stir was visible in the town, where a large crowd had gathered together. While Evan was looking down, without finding much difficulty in divining its meaning, the distant sound of a dozen clarions tle. was heard and a long line of monks appeared When the room was full the Viscount who at the gate of the castle bearing in their was seated on a platform above the rest, midst the Count's body. Behind these rose up and addressed the assembly in the marched four Knights bearing aloft as many midst of a deep silence. banners, and preceding the Count's black warhorse, who advanced with difficulty beneath his gorgeous battle-harness. The sword, the shield, and the helmet followed, and the whole procession defiling through the crowd entered the cathedral.

He began by saying that Count Gaston had left no lawful sons, that further he had died so suddenly as not to have time for declaring his wishes in regard to his successor, and that he the Viscount was beyond all doubt the nearest by lineage to the Count. "Barons and Knights, just men and loyal

At its first appearance Evan had put his horse to a gallop, and entered the town in chevaliers," continued he, "have I in the time to join the end of the long line of least presumed in asserting myself the only

heir! Neither Monseigneur's unlawful brothers or son can ever reign. The assertion of their claim will raise a civil war in Bearne, for its nobles are too great to be governed by such. My own claim is undoubtedly the best, but it is right that I first ask the sanction of the honorable chevaliers whom I see before me."

The Viscount had made such good use of Evan's gold with some, of soft words, promises and flatteries with others, and an unheard of condescension to all, that when he ceased a long murmur testified the effect of his words.

"My Lord," said a Knight of Bearne, who the day before had received a present from the Viscount of ten thousand francs, "we acknowledge your claim to the county of Bearne as just and rightful. What say you gentlemen, yes?"

"Yes," said the Bearnese.

And we, my lord," said a Foixien lord, who had received twenty thousand francs, "we also."

Before he could finish, a vibration ran the crowd, and through an opening made for him a courier, covered with dust advanced into the middle of the apartment. A pair of golden spurs which clanked upon the pavement declared him a Knight.

"Sire Chevalier," said the Viscount, without being able to restrain a frown, "what is your business here?"

To forbid any further proceeding in the name of the King of France, my lord!" "The King of France!"

"Who has a mortgage upon the lands of Foix and, as his sovereign right, now incorporates them with his empire !"

THE MUSIC OF NATURE.

There's music in the gentle breeze
That whispers softness through the trees,
Wafting upon its balmy wing,
The sweetest odors of the spring.

There's music in the dirge-like wail
Of autumn winds and winter's gale,
When roaming o'er the lovely flowers,
That bloomed so fair in summer bowers.

At early morn when Sol's bright ray,
Kindles the dew-drops in the spray,
The lark begins his matin song,
And Nature's choir the hymn prolong.

And when the sun is sinking low,
There's sweetest music in the flow
Of falling waters far away,
Lulling to rest the dying day.

The tinkling rill that ripples by,
Makes, o'er the pebbles, melody,
Soft murm'ring notes that scarce are heard,
Soft as the song of fairy-bird.

When angry tempests heave the main,
There's highest grandeur in the strain
Of billows dashing on the shore,-
A solemn anthem in that roar.

But let the storm-king ride the blast,
And clouds come rolling thick and fast-
The lightning's crash, the thunder's boom,
Make awful music through the gloom.
Univ. of Va. Oct. 28, 1853.

THE ANGELS OF EPIC POETRY.

It is comparatively easy for man to delineate his fellow man, and in the wide range of fiction almost every variety of character, and every shade of passion, has been portrayed. But when the human mind leaves And the Knight, with his hand on his the dark confines of earth, and soars upward sword, looked haughtily around. to depict the bright intelligences of the ce"The hawk ends the combat!" muttered lestial world, we become conscious that finite D'Arthor: "so passes the House of Foix-powers are unequal to this task. Angels its last day and last Count are dead!"

have ever been favorites with both the poet

And D'Arthor pushed his way through the and the painter, but how seldom have they roaring crowd and disappeared.

been worthily represented by either. Persons privileged to look upon the master-pieces of Europe may sometimes find their ideas of angelic perfection satisfied upon canvas, but in

The sequel to the events just narrated, is the copies familiar to us in this new world, properly reserved for another occasion.

we do not recollect an instance, in which the portraiture of angels was entirely pleasing. They are generally fine specimens of physi