sane.

"Your life henceforth," he said, "will be embittered as mine is, and haunted by her memory, and saddened by penance. Ah, Fanni, Fanni, what have you done? You have undone us both."

said Lucetta, "was more than she could an extraordinary degree, but perfectly bear. She had prayed, she had suffered penance. Every day she lived his sin was the greater, she said. She would live no longer. She sent him a last, last, last farewell. She would fain see him once again, and should stand at the door of his palace when he drove by, and then, she said, her life's dream would be ended. She should die for him, and she felt that it was no crime to hide herself for ever in the flowing river."

Underneath, in a different hand, was written::-"Opened by me, Sibilla di Mangiascudi-disgraced, insulted, and de

ceived."

Fanny had not been mistaken when she heard carriage-wheels, and voices coming along the rooms.

"Listen! they are coming. It is the Marquis," cried Anne, desperate and running to the door of the room, and pushing it.

Fanny did not lose her presence of mind.

"Go down into the garden," she said, "through the bed-room. Quick! I will follow."

She was quite calm. She felt that the crisis had come. She hastily threw back the things, closed the box, locked it, and stood there with quivering lips as the door opened and Barbi came in. He looked darker and more gloomy than ever.

66

"Yes," said Fanny, trembling very much. "You are right. I cannot marry you now. I beg your pardon. I should not have read your letters. I am an ungrateful little creature, forgive me. Goodby."

66

Good-by!" shouted Barbi, who seemed half out of himself-in a sort of frenzy. "You know my secrets-you are mine! You have promised—you are mine! I do not let you go! Do you think you deserve no punishment for your treachery?”

He was in a fury, and stamped and looked so wild and so terrible that Fanny, frightened out of her wits, started away.

"I do not let you go! I do not let you out of my sight till we are married!" said Barbi, striding after her; but, with a sudden spring, she ran into the bed-room, the door of which Anne was holding open, and the two girls banged it in his face. He seemed to them capable of killing Fanny on the spot.

66

Anne, Anne! What are we to do? Can we get out by the garden? said Fanny, pointing to the staircase door. "What are you doing here?" he said, "It is locked. The lower door is abruptly. But Fanny did not answer. locked," said Anne, wringing her hands. "What have you there?" he asked again, | A tremendous thundering blow upon the advancing. door made the two girls start again. "Let us call for help," said Fanny. yes, I'm here," she cried to Barbi, to quiet him, for every minute she thought the door would come down. "Go to the staircase-window, Anne, and see if you can get at any help."

Fanny answered nothing, but slowly raised her hand and gave him the keys, without a word. Then she gave a scream, for he seized her little wrist with such a grip that the blood came starting where the diamond-ring cut her fingers, and as he took the keys into his hand he saw that the double heart handle was stained.

"What is that?" he said, almost wildly. "Who gave them to you? Who are you that you pry into my secrets, and throw my sacred relics under foot?" And he pointed to the peasant's handkerchief that Fanny, in her haste, had left upon the

floor. He seemed half beside himself.

"Yes,

"Let me in!" said Barbi, with another tremendous blow.

"I beseech you be calm," cried Fanny. "I will come if you will be calm. You frighten me."

"You deserve it!" shouted Bluebeard, furiously.

66

Anne, do you see any one?" said Fanny, running to the head of the stairs. "I see a cloud of dust. They are heat

You, too, shall die," he said. "She did not deserve it, but another woman be-ing carpets in the garden," said Anne. fore you burst open my sacred past, and "But, oh! they won't look up." she died of shame and a broken heart. Ah, Fanni, Fanni, I thought you at least would have obeyed me."

His eyes were so strange that Fanny thought his reason must be affected, but it was not so he was superstitious to

Again the door shook on its hinges.

66

Anne, I shall die," said Fanny, crying. "Do call out scream! he will kill us.

"Here are two Brothers of the Pietà," cried Anne, "coming slowly along the terrace-walk. If I could but make them

hear... That bell will drown my voice. Help! help!" she cried. Then she came running in, pale and trembling. "They hear me! They have got the key of the garden-door," she said.

Suddenly the door opened wide - the two members of the confraternity stood before him. "Do you not hear

"Come!" they said. the summons?"

Barbi hastily pulled his blue mask over

At the sound of the bell, Barbi's blows his face. And while Anne and her sister had suddenly increased. stood clinging to each other in tears, the

Let me through, let me through!" he three walked slowly away. cried violently.

From The Examiner.

GAMBETTA'S RESIGNATION.

other eloquent men, but more honestly than most, he has not been careful as to the words with which he has urged on his followers. He has mis-stated facts, and drawn from actual events impossible inferences. It would hardly be too much to say that in every speech and proclamation that has issued from him since last September there has been some perversion of the truth, some reckless exaggeration, or some frivolous incredulity. But it is certainly not too much to say that in all this he was perfectly honest. Visionaries and enthu

M. GAMBETTA has promptly made a full atonement for his false step in opposition to the arrangements of the Paris Government of Defence. For a few days it seemed as if he were about to undo all the good work he had rendered to his country, and by one move to strengthen the power of Germany and to ruin the true interests of Republicanism. We may rejoice that his impulsive patriotism has not taken that turn. It is clear that he could not have worked well, during these weeks of ex-siasts are somewhat rare nowadays, and treme embarrassment, with M. Jules Favre and his other colleagues in Paris; and his resignation is, therefore, very satisfactory. He frees himself from all charge of sacrificing France to his own ambition, and makes it easier for him to enter the service of the country when his help will be useful.

Let us do justice to this fiery patriot. There seems risk that Englishmen who two or three months ago lauded him to the skies, will now turn against him, and that his own countrymen, all but the few who share his enthusiasm, will for a time, at any rate, be yet louder in their condemnation. Violent and headstrong he certainly has been; but a man like him was needed to stir up the energies of France, and his work therein is none the less praiseworthy because it has been all in vain. The same spirit that induced him, when a youth, to maim his body as the only way open to him of release from the priestly life ordained by his father, has marked his career as a public man in France. Daring in all things, he denounced Napoleonism when at its height with uncurbed eloquence, and with like eloquence he has guided timid millions and rival factions from the day when Napoleon was deposed. Like many

we are apt to believe that every man who does not speak the truth is a liar. M. Gambetta's action should incline us to be more charitable. Under the Empire he yearned to restore the true life of the nation. When the Empire was overturned he could not believe that that life was impaired. He thought it would be easy for France to rise as one man and drive out the invader. As each little victory was gained it seemed to him a great triumph. As each terrible defeat was experienced he regarded it as only a momentary reverse. He had such abounding faith in his cause, the cause of French Republicanism, that he could not believe in failure. Of course clear-sighted statesmen are the best; but there is something very noble in the blind zeal of this determined man, and something very pathetic in that view of him, weeping in the streets of Bordeaux when the bitter news of the surrender of Paris gave the lie to his long-cherished hopes. Nearly 40,000,000 French people are now in distress, and the agony of any one man among them seems too slight to be singled out from the whole mass of misery; but if one Frenchman more than another deserves the sympathy of others just now, it is Léon Gambetta.

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From The Quarterly Review.
MODERN WHIST.*

our pages to an intellectual occupation of such high and universal interest; and we propose, first, to offer a concise history of the game; next to describe the chief characteristics of its most modern and improved form; and, lastly, to add a few remarks on whist playing.

THE game of whist, after two centuries of elaboration, has now become a favour ite amusement in all ranks of society, and especially with persons of great intelligence and ability. Numerous societies have been established expressly for its The early history of whist is involved practice, and at many of the West End in some obscurity. It is not to be supclubs it is played daily, particularly in the posed that a game of this high character afternoon when the mental faculties are should have sprung at once perfect into more active than in the evening. At these being; it has been formed by gradual delittle gatherings may be seen men of high velopment from elements previously exrank, sitting at the same tables with others isting. As early as the beginning of the eminent in literature, science, art, or the sixteenth century a card game was in compublic service-all testifying, by the ear-mon use, of which both the name and the nestness with which their attention is fixed chief feature enter prominently into the on the game, to its great intellectual at- construction of whist. This was called tractions. In the best private circles, too, triumph-corrupted into trump-and the and in domestic society generally, its high character is becoming better appreciated, although the style of play is still far from what it ought to be.

essence of it was the predominance of one particular suit, called the triumph or trump-suit, over all the others. It was of Continental origin, like most of the Whist is of English origin, but its popu- card games in use at that period. A work larity is not confined to this country. On published in Italy in 1526 speaks of it unthe Continent it has become fully natural-der the name of Trionfi, and it is menized; the finest player that ever lived was tioned by Rabelais as la Triumphe, among a Frenchman, and the most elaborate works on whist are by foreign authors. It has, in fact, extended over the whole earth; there is not a spot where European civilization prevails, where whist is not practised and prized. A published collection of "Whist Studies" dates from the tropics; in the rigour of the North American winter whist forms the occupation of the frozen-up inhabitants for months together; and in the wilds of Australia the farmers play at whist for "sheep points, with a bullock on the rubber."

We need not hesitate to give a place in

A short Treatise on the Game of Whist, containing the Laws of the Game, and also some Rules whereby a Beginner may, with due attention to them,

attain to the Playing it well. With Calculations

and Cases. By a Gentleman [Edmond Hoyle] Bath printed, and London reprinted. For W. Webster, near St. Paul's. 1743.

2. The Principles of Whist stated and explained, and its Practice illustrated on an Original System, by means of hands played completely through. By Cavendish. London, 1862.

the games played by Gargantua. From France it was imported into England, where it soon became popular in good society, as we find a reference to it in a quarter where it would hardly be looked for, namely, in a sermon preached by Latimer at Cambridge the Sunday before Christmas, 1529. He mentions the game under its corrupted as well as its original appellation, and clearly alludes to its characteristic feature, as the following extracts will show :

"And where you are wont to celebrate Christmass in playing at cards, I intend by God's grace to deal unto you Christ's Cards, wherein you shall perceive Christ's Rule. The game that we play at shall be called the Triumph, which, if it be well played at, he that dealeth shall win; the Players shall likewise win; and the standers and lookers upon shall do the same.

"You must mark also that the Triumph must apply to fetch home unto him all the other cards,

3. A Treatise on Short Whist. By James Clay, whatever suit they be of." M.P. London, 1864.

4. The Theory of the Modern Scientific Game of Whist. By William Pole, F.R.S., Mus. Doc. Oxon. London, 1865.

"Then further we must say to ourselves, What requireth Christ of a Christian man?