grand harvest," he says, conclusively; and then he rises, and goes over to the window where Nenuphar sits, and for a few moments watches her in silence. Indeed a silence seems to have fallen on the whole party. One might have said there was an angel pausing overhead, but Mr Clermont breaks it. "What are you thinking of, Nenuphar?"

She raises her great eyes to his, and half sighs, as she says, "Thinking of Really I do not know."

As she thus looks up, you can see that in this month-since that day when Sebastian's shadow fell across her-a change has come over her, though wherein the change exactly lies it would be hard to say. But it is there nevertheless-a half-troubled look in the blue eyes, which gives them a depth they did not possess in the days when no sorrow or joy seemed to have any power over her.

And what is it, then, that has come over her? Not jealousy of Heather, surely; for Nenuphar is a beautiful woman, and has seen so many men bow down and do homage to her, that it is impossible for her to grudge Heather her one conquest. And as to love, why, she herself acknowledged not so very long ago that the very meaning of the word was incomprehensible to her.

At first, after his return home, Mr Long had believed, as so many men had done before him, that in Nenuphar Clermont he had found his ideal of all that was perfect and lovely in womanhood. But after the first few days it seemed to his passionate Southern nature there was something almost repulsive in the cold beauty, that nothing could stir out of its unnatural calm. Then he had begun to think of the other girl, so full of fire, and life, and activity; of whom his dreams had been the first night of his

home-coming, and whose voice had once welcomed him back so warmly, and whose eyes had now learnt to brighten at his approach; and this vision gradually blotted out that other one that had stirred his fancy for a little while with the wonderful fascination of its beauty.

"Do you think," asked Mr Clermont, after another little pause, spent by him in speculating as to the likeliest question to gain him an insight into Nenuphar's thoughts -"do you think that those two," with a half movement in the direction of the chess-players, "are likely to make a match of it?"

"Do you?"

"Yes, it would not surprise me." Nenuphar lifted her eyes then, and looked in the direction indicated. "What makes you think it?" she said; and though she spoke quietly, the very faintest tinge of pink passed over her cheeks —a very unusual show of emotion for her.

"It seems like it," said old Mr Clermont. "To think that my little, rough, careless Heather should have lived to be preferred to a beautiful woman like you-for you are a beautiful woman, Nenuphar, there is no denying that. 'Eyes, and no eyes,' is it not?"

"Beauty is not everything."

"Perhaps not. But it is nearly everything or rather, it is a royal road to nearly everything."

"Beauty only turns heads; it does not win hearts," said Nenuphar, softly. "Oh, I wish I knew,” she went on, almost appealingly, "what it is that is wanting in me

what it is that makes me so different to every one else! why he," looking towards the far-off players, "finds something almost repulsive in me. What can it be?"

"His bad taste," retorted Mr Clermont. "Be satisfied with yourself just as you are- -it is the

vividness with which two distinct mental processes were presented by the varied action of a single organ: and Vizard then began to suspect that a creature stood before him with a power of discerning and digesting truth, such as he had not yet encountered either in man or woman. She entered on her British adventures in her clear silvery voice; it was not, like Ina Klosking's, rich, and deep, and tender: yet it had a certain gentle beauty to those who love truth, because it was dispassionate, yet expressive, and cool, yet not cold: one might call it truth's silver trumpet.

On the brink of this extraordinary passage I pause to make no less than three remarks in my own person. 1st, Let no reader of mine allow himself to fancy Rhoda Gale and her antecedents are a mere excrescence of my story: she was rooted to it even before the first scene of it-the meeting of Ashmead and the Klosking-and this will soon appear. 2d, She is now going into a controverted matter; and though she is sincere and truthful, she is of necessity a partisan. Do not take her for a judge. You

be the judge. 3d, But, as a judge never shuts his mind to either side, do not refuse her a fair hearing. Above all, do not underrate the question. Let not the balance of your understanding be so upset by ephemeral childishness, as to fancy that it matters much whether you break an egg top or bottom, because Gulliver's two nations went to war about it; or that it matters much whether your Queen is called Queen of India or Empress, because two parties made a noise about it, and the country has wasted ten thousand square miles of good paper on the subject. Fight against these illusions of petty and ephemeral minds. It does not matter to mankind whether any one woman is called Queen, or Empress, of India; and it matters greatly to mankind whether the whole race of women are to be allowed to study medicine, and practise it, if they can rival the male, or are to be debarred from testing their scientific ability, and so outlawed, though taxed in defiance of British liberty, and all justice human and divine, by eleven hundred lawgivers-most of 'em fools.

2 G

VOL. CXX.-NO. DCCXXXII.

THIS is a most interesting and valuable book. Its different chapters appeared in successive numbers of the Revue des Deux Mondes' in 1875, and, translated by Mrs Tait, now appear in the form of a separate volume. They are written by M. Julian Klaczko, an ex-deputy of the Parliament of Vienna, who in 1871 retired from politics, but who, nevertheless, quotes in this volume only such documents and despatches as have hitherto, by fair means or by foul, found their way before the public eye, rightly deeming himself "bound by the obligations laid upon him by professional secrecy, and by the elementary rules of state service." The object is to trace out the workings and the results of a ten years' partnership between the two famous Chancellors of Russia and Germany, Prince Gortschakoff and Prince Bismarck; and these are delineated with considerable artistic power, and in a manner which betokens considerable political insight, and an intimate acquaintance with the diplomatic world. The momentous partnership or understanding between these powerful statesmen, to which is traced the downfall of Austria and France, the unification of Germany, the eclipse of Europe, and the quiescence of Russia, is said to have lasted from the occasion of the Schleswig-Holstein question down to the Emperor William's journey to Russia in the spring of 1873 to pay his debt of gratitude to the Czar. M. Klaczko approaches the recital of these

marvellous events, if to some extent from an Austrian, before all things from a European, point of view. "Taking a broad view," he exclaims, "it is in truth a matter of congratulation that the sceptre of the West has slipped from the hands of a turbulent volcanic nation, always engaged in some propaganda, now Jacobin, now Ultramontane, but ever revolutionary, to fall into the grasp of the most orderly, most hierarchical, and bestdisciplined State in Europe." Sadowa and Sedan were Protestant victories over the two chief Catholic Powers, fitly followed by the struggle into which Prince Bismarck has plunged against the Vatican. But upon the part which Russia has played during this portion of European history M. Klaczko is remarkably severe. He traces it entirely to a policy of spite against Austria for imaginary wrongs during the Crimean War-against France for its interference with regard to Poland, to a policy which was totally opposed to the traditions of Russian diplomacy, which has substituted along the whole line of frontier, in place of "a purely and exclusively defensive combination," in which Russia had the paramount influence, a gigantic military power, ambitious, full of enterprise, and obliged by its very position to undertake the championship of what are called "Western interests." He declares that the same Power which struck down Austria at Sadowa and France at Sedan, could at will deal Russia a mortal

Translated from the French by

a

blow through the gates of Poland; and that a proposal to do so was warmly discussed in 1871 by group of Hungarian statesmen supposed to be to some considerable extent in Prince Bismarck's confidence." He points to the views held by Prussia in 1863 as to the left bank of the Vistula, "the natural frontier," and argues that Teuton aspirations are ever on the increase in Courland and Livonia. The grateful disposition of the Emperor William may influence destiny for a time; yet even he is capable of resigning himself, with grief in his heart and tears in his eyes, to a sanguinary sacrifice, when either the voice of Germany, or his mission from on high, may summon him to arms.

M. Klaczko insists that whatever Europe may have gained by the rise of Germany, Russia has lost in security, power, and relative influence, by her persistent support of Prussian policy. Napoleon's loss of his throne is traced to the shortsighted policy and confused ideas which led him to urge Prussia forward in her aggressive path after having thrown up the cause of Denmark from a feeling of ill-temper against England. On the other hand, Prince Gortschakoff, although he made a skilful use of the goodwill of France to restore Russia to her old ascendancy within four years of the treaty of 1856, nevertheless refused, from the motives here attributed to him of rancour and ill-nature, to entertain the idea of any alliance but that of Prussia; actively aided that ally in wreaking his vengeance on France and Austria; rejected in 1867 ample concessions offered by both those Powers; refused in 1871 to take the initiative in the work of peace, though urged thereto by both Austria and England. The recent conquests in Asia are, it is urged, wholly inade

quate as a compensation, since they are of doubtful value, and at the best are embarrassing possessions, and Russian hopes on the Bosphorus are but shadowy contingencies. A vague presentiment is declared to have already taken possession of the Russian public, conscious that the ancient traditions of the empire have been set aside, that the balance of power between Austria and Prussia is gone, that the friendship of the secondary States has disappeared, that the work of revolution and annexation has obliterated the treaties and public law of Europe. It is clear, as has been constantly urged during the progress of the recent phase of the Eastern question, that Russia is far weaker, relatively to the rest of Europe, than she was twenty years ago, and that a policy of singlehanded aggression no longer lies within her power.

Prince Gortschakoff, born in 1798, the present Chancellor of the Russian empire, was initiated into the language of Voltaire by the brother of Marat, the infamous conventionalist. Of varied classical acquirements, he was the co-disciple, and remained the steadfast friend, of Pouchkine, the great national poet, who foretold his splendid destinies, hailing him as "Fortune's favoured son." The favours, however, were tardily conferred; for the future chief, although at an early age he entered the Foreign Office, and became attached to the suite of Count Nesselrode from the time of the Laybach and Verona Congresses, continued to fill a secondary appointment till he was over fifty years of age. first attracted the attention of the Emperor Nicholas as plenipotentiary at Stuttgart, where, "by dint of skill and dexterity, he succeeded in establishing the Grand Duchess Olga (the daughter of Nicholas) in the royal family of Würtemberg;"

He

one who could amuse himself by laughing at the slips and falls of those who passed him by, and never heed the cries of distress from those who needed help,-even he, watching Heather's eyes as they rested on Sebastian's face, would half wonder whether he had gone quite the right way to work to forget the grief that had so bowed him down; whether, if he had mingled more with those around him, and had not tried so long to stand above them, he would not perhaps have hushed his grief to a gentler sleep.

And when thus perplexed, a glance at Nenuphar would cause his conscience to prick him afresh. The study that had interested him so long was almost completed now. He knew it; the human soul he had so often laughed at her for lacking, was coming to her at last coming slowly and surely, and bringing with it grief immeasurable, such as only those quiet self-contained natures can feel.

Sometimes as he looked at her, and saw her watching Sebastian and Heather as they walked together in the garden, he would see come into her wide blue eyes an expression of such intense and bitter pain, that, startled and horrified, he would turn away. At such moments he would seem to hear his dead wife's voice; his dead wife's figure would rise before him, pleading by her motherhood for the motherless girl-reproaching him for the years of selfishness that were now bearing such bitter fruit. Then Mr Clermont would answer the accusing voice by saying that, after all, he could not attach any blame to himself. He had acted most generously by her, and so the world must acknowledge.

He had saved her from certain death as a child-he had brought her up in his own home-he had

denied her nothing; and now, was he to blame himself because the girl, when she was grown up, had chosen to fall in love with a man who had no thought for her?

It was nonsense-so he argued ; but, all the same, the voice would make itself heard at times. He had left her alone: he had not, indeed, biassed her for evil; but, unfortunately, the mind has to be strongly biassed for good, not left to find its own way out of the evil that surrounds it.

So poor Nenuphar-for surely she needs pity now, if she never needed it before-had grown up quietly and calmly, with never a quicker pulse-beat than was strictly healthy; never a flush of pleasure at any one's appearance; never a feeling of pain at any one's departure just living, that was all, calmly and evenly from day to day, hearing from John Clermont, or rather seeing from his manner to her, that there was something about her dif ferent to all other women; until at last, so firmly did she become imbued with the idea that she was different to those around her, that she began in a manner to feel that she ought to act up to the character assigned to her. All this till that June evening when she first saw Sebastian Long's face, and Sebastian's shadow fell across her. Then, into her tranquil mind was borne a feeling that there was something greater to be got out of life than the mere pleasure of living from. day to day, and also the knowledge that there was something essential to a perfect woman wanting in her; and whatever it was, she felt that it was making her, despite her beauty, less pleasant in Sebastian's eyes than Heather.

So she asked him that question in the moonlit garden, and from his own lips she had the answer; and then she saw him go away into the light of Heather's smiles, leaving