we were unexpectedly _tete-a-tete_ with each other,
and that she was reproaching me for some severe words I had spoken the
preceding evening, she said, coldly, 'Have a care: you cannot contend
against my power; any such attempt will bring down certain ruin on your
head.' 'As it did upon that of my mother,' answered I. 'It is a pity,
madame, you have not M. Polidori by your side, to announce to you that
your vengeance can be satisfied--the day after to-morrow."

"And what reply did she make when you thus recalled those fearful
words?"

"She changed colour rapidly, her features were almost convulsed; then,
by a strong effort conquering her emotion, she angrily demanded what I
meant by the expression. 'Ask your own heart, madame,' answered I; 'in
the solitude of your chamber inquire of yourself to what I allude: your
conscience will find a ready explanation.' Shortly after that, a scene
occurred which for ever sealed my destiny.

"Among a great number of family portraits, which graced the walls of the
salon in which we usually spent the evening, was that of my mother. One
day I observed it had been removed from its accustomed place. Two
neighbours had dined with us. One of them, a M. Dorval, a country
lawyer, had always expressed the utmost veneration and respect for my
mother. When we reached the salon after dinner, I inquired of my father
what had become of my dear mother's picture. 'Cease!' cried my father,
significantly pointing to our guests, as though intimating his desire
that they should not hear any discussion on the subject; 'the reason of
the picture being taken away is that the sight of it continually
reminded me of the heavy loss I have sustained, and so prevented my
regaining my usual calmness and peace of mind.' 'And where is the
portrait at present?' inquired I. Turning towards Madame Roland, with an
impatient and uneasy air, he said, 'Where has the picture been put?' 'In
the lumber-room,' replied she, casting on me a glance of defiance,
evidently under the impression that the presence of witnesses would
prevent me from proceeding further in the matter. 'I can easily believe,
madame,' cried I, indignantly, 'that the recollection of my mother must
have been painful to you; but that was not a sufficient reason for
banishing from the walls the likeness of her who, when you were in want
and misery, kindly and charitably afforded you the shelter of her
roof.'"

"Excellent!" exclaimed Rodolph; "yours was, in