ed since last I saw it! I was a young man, then, and the
Marchioness was alive and in her bloom; many other persons were here,
too, who are now no more! There stood the orchestra; here we tripped in
many a sprightly maze--the walls echoing to the dance! Now, they resound
only one feeble voice--and even that will, ere long, be heard no more!
My son, remember, that I was once as young as yourself, and that you
must pass away like those, who have preceded you--like those, who, as
they sung and danced in this once gay apartment, forgot, that years are
made up of moments, and that every step they took carried them nearer
to their graves. But such reflections are useless, I had almost
said criminal, unless they teach us to prepare for eternity, since,
otherwise, they cloud our present happiness, without guiding us to a
future one. But enough of this; let us go on.'

Ludovico now opened the door of the bed-room, and the Count, as he
entered, was struck with the funereal appearance, which the dark arras
gave to it. He approached the bed, with an emotion of solemnity, and,
perceiving it to be covered with the pall of black velvet, paused; 'What
can this mean?' said he, as he gazed upon it.

'I have heard, my Lord,' said Ludovico, as he stood at the feet, looking
within the canopied curtains, 'that the Lady Marchioness de Villeroi
died in this chamber, and remained here till she was removed to be
buried; and this, perhaps, Signor, may account for the pall.'

The Count made no reply, but stood for a few moments engaged in thought,
and evidently much affected. Then, turning to Ludovico, he asked him
with a serious air, whether he thought his courage would support him
through the night? 'If you doubt this,' added the Count, 'do not be
ashamed to own it; I will release you from your engagement, without
exposing you to the triumphs of your fellow-servants.'

Ludovico paused; pride, and something very like fear, seemed struggling
in his breast; pride, however, was victorious;--he blushed, and his
hesitation ceased.

'No, my Lord,' said he, 'I will go through with what I have begun; and
I am grateful for your consideration. On that hearth I will make a fire,
and, with the good cheer in this basket, I doubt not I shall do well.'

'Be it so,' said the Count; 'but how will you beguile the tediousness of
the night, if you do not sleep?'

'When I am weary, my Lord,' replied Ludovico, 'I shall not fear to
sleep; in the meanwhile, I hav