uth which had been wonderfully elicited by the sole witness who
could declare the crime.

But a few hours passed, and Martel lay in a gloomy dungeon of the
Conciergerie, whilst in a public place, not far from the prison, were
made the preparations for execution; for at this period the scaffold
followed the sentence so rapidly, that a condemned man never beheld
the morrow's sun. Ere nightfall all was over. The wretched man died
penitent, confessing his crime, and denouncing the cupidity and
thirst of gold which had led him on to murder.

In fifty years from this period, Laurence Bigot had been long dead.
Emerie his son had succeeded him in his office. Etienne Pasquier had
become a learned and reverend old man, with silver hair. He was then
composing his curious and interesting _Recherches sur la France,_ and
there related the almost miraculous discovery of a murder long since
committed--of which discovery he had in his youth been an
eye-witness. It is from his statement that this history is taken.

THE BRIDAL WREATH.

FROM THE ITALIAN OF UESIGLIO.

'This wreath must be finished before the evening. Down with those
tiresome hands; you jumble together all my leaves; you give me one
colour instead of the other: you are spoiling all I have done. Be it
known to you, however, that I am determined you shall not leave Padua
until I have put the last leaf to our garland.'

These pettish words, qualified by the sweetest of smiles, were
addressed by a beautiful girl of sixteen to a young man who was
sitting beside her, and taking a mischievous pleasure in disturbing
her work; now catching hold of her hands; now removing out of her
reach something that she wanted; now playing with her long and
luxuriant hair, which floated negligently on her shoulders:
affectionate interruptions, which left a doubt whether the name of
brother or lover better suited them. But the light which flashed
from, the eyes of the youth, and seemed to irradiate the countenance
of the maiden, showed that his emotions were more rapid and ardent
than those inspired by fraternal love. They were seated at a table
strewed with shreds of cloth, gummed cotton, green taffeta, little
palettes of colours, small pencils, and all the necessary apparatus
of artificial flower-making.

'Well, then,' replied the youth, 'I will do as you wish; but what
haste with a wreath that is not to be used till Heaven knows when?
Ah! if you were to wear it tomorrow, I would the