The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1844-03-12 00:00:00

LOCAL NEWS.

The packet-ship Rochester, advertised to leave New
York on the 21st ultimo, is now due. The Boston steamer,
of the Ist instant, may also be expected to arrive here
about Thursday or Friday next.
STEAMERS FOR BOSTON AND HALIFAX.—The Cale-
donia. Captain Lott, sailed, on Tuesday last, with fifty-
six passengers and a heavy mail. The next mail will be
despatched on the 4th of April, after which time the pac-
kets will be despatched twice a month, on the 4th and
19th, from each port.

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the sum of £2 15s. in copper was abstracted. Dur-
ing the same evening, Mr. W Gill, one of the most active
inspectors in the police force, apprehended Bernard
M`Mahon , a well-known thief, who was disguised at the
time, and on his person 6s. 7d. in copper were found. No
evidence, however, could be found to bring the charge
home to him, and be was discharged.
INQUESTS.—On Saturday two inquests were held be-
fore the Borough Coroner. The first was on the body of
a newborn female child, the daughter of Eliza Osborne, a
single woman. A post mortem examination was held by
Mr. a J, Everest, surgeon, who was of opinion that it had
been etillborn.—The second was on the body of William
Hamilton, a young man, who received a severe injury in
the thigh from one of the spikes at the Corporation Baths,
on the 28th ult., and died of the effects, in the Northern
Hospital, on Friday last. Verdicts in accordance with
the evidence were returned in both cases.

QUARRELS AMONGST ATTORNEYS.—An attorney,
named Grace, was summoned before Mr. Rushton, on
on Friday, on the charge of having assaulted Mr. E. G.
Deane, solicitor. The case having been proved, Grace
was ordered tQ pay a fine of £5, and to give sureties
to keep the peace : and before the order was pronounced,
a very sharp lecture was given to him by the magistrate
for his improper conduct. He was taken into custody
until the required sureties were brought forward ; but it
was not till he had given some signifiicant hints that he
surrendered himself into the charge of the officers.

THE HUBARD GALLERY.-Mr. Norman, having com-
pleted and disposed of the " Exchange picture," has closed
his establishment, leaving to Liverpool a lasting token
of his talents. During his sojourn here he has executed
upwards of 3,000 likenesses, the receipts for which he
estimates at nearly £l,OOO, and this in the short space of
six months. Air. N. is now about to visit Preston, and
we can only say that if he be there as eminently success-
ful in catching the peculiarities of every visage, as he has
been here, he is deserving of that patronage we feel confi-
dent a town already eminent for its encouragement of
arts will award him.

REFUSAL TO MAINTAIN A WIFE.--On Wednesday
last, Mr. Gray, the overseer, appeared to substantiate a
charge against Henry Robinson, under the following cir-
cumstances i—He stated that, about Christmas last, Ro-
binson was held to bail for an assault on his wife, and an
agreement was entered into by which he was to allow her
the sum of 10s. per week, which had been regularly paid
until now, the ground of refusal being that she had been
guilty of adultery ; he had, however, notwithstanding this,
offered to take her home, but she objected, urging that he
would ill use her, and she could not live with him ; she
had, consequently, been relieved by the parish. Mr.
Snowball, on behalf of Robinson, said the latter was wil-
ling to provide for her at his own home. Mr. Rushton
observed that it was a difficult case to deal with, and
wished her to consent to his proposal, adding that he (Mr.
R.) would take care, if he did not treat her kindly, that
the law should speak to him in a manner which he would
be made to understand. The complainant said she would
rather take a situation than live with him. Mr. Rushton
said he was unable to deal with the case, and the parties
then left the court.

THE MAGAZINE LIFE-BOATMEN.—We have to notice
another act of adventurous exertion on the part of several
of the crew of the Magazine life-boat which redounds to
to their additional honour. On Saturday last, the wind
blowing a gale from the N.W., the flat Ellen, from Run-
corn, drove from her anchor against the pier at New
Brighton, when the sea broke furiously over her. The
two men on board of her clung to the pier, and the ves-
sel immediately sunk. The captain was washed off the
stage, but fortunately got hold again. Both waved to a
Liverpool boat at a short distance to assist them. The
crew of the boat made a praiseworthy effort to get to
them, but the sea was running so high that they could
not. Fdur of the Magazine life-boat men, William
Whittle, William Bell, Thomas Whittle, and John
Hughes, being on the shore. put off immediately in one
of their own boats, and at great risk of their own lives
rescued them, and brought them to the house of Wm.
Roberts, at the Magazines, where they were humanely
attended to, and supplied with everything necessary to
their recovery from their almost fatal state of exhaustion.

HOUSEBREAKIN G.—Between three and four o'clock on
Sunday morning, the house of a gentleman residing in
West Derby-street was broken open by a gang of bur-
glars. They first attempted to effect an entrance through
the panel of one of the doors, by means of a centre-bit,
but finding it too thick for their purpose, they next tried
the kitchen window, and soon succeeded in getting access
to the premises by cutting away part of the shutter.
Having done this, they began to search for plunder, but
fortunately, with very little success, all the plate having
been removed up stairs. Whilst rumaging the dining-
room they made a slight noise, which disturbed the lady
of the house, who after going down a few steps of the
stairs, saw a man standing in the passage. She immedi-
ately gave the alarm, on which the thieves fled through
the open kitchen window, closely followed by the master
of the house. Two of the three sprung over the garden
wall, and got clear off, and the third concealed himself in
an outhouse, where he remained nearly an hour, when he
was seen by one of the neighbours to• jump over the wall
and escape. The theives carried off a few articles of no
great value, and left behind them a hat, and several house-
breaking implements. This is the second robbery. of a
similar kind, that has been effected in the same street
during the last fortnight.
NORTH WALES AND DUBLIN RAILWAY AND HAR.•
DOUR COMPANY.—We have received a printed statement,
dated 26th ultimo, addressed by this company to the
Lords Commissioners of the Treasury, setting forth the
comparative merits—as affording a more speedy and fre-
quent mail communication between London and Dublin
than now exists—of the Chester and Holyhead and the
Chester and Ormshead line of railway, and their pro-
posed respective harbours. From this it appears that
both lines leave Chester at nearly the same point, but
that the Holyhead line passes, at the north end of the city,
by a tunnel, and cutting, and crossing the Ellesmere canal
and the Dee by a viaduct over the navigable part of the
river; and the Ormshead line passes with a tunnel under
Eastgate-street, thence crossing the river on an archway,
above the old bridge, at the south entrance of the city,
avoids interfering with the navigation. About a mile be-
low the new bridge, it unites with the Holyhead line, and
both lines become identical to the 41st mile, on nearly a
water level the whole way. At their point of separation
the Ormshead line still keeps the seabound, until it reaches
the terminus at the western side of the bay, formed by
the Great and Little Ormshead, the whole length of rail-
way being 46 miles. The Holyhead line, after diverging
from the Ormshead line, passes along a level couniry to
the estuary of the Conway, which it is proposed to cross
by an embankment, and the -navigable part of a bridge,
near the suspension bridge. From Conway it takes the
precipitous, rocky, and uneven line of coast to Bangor
and the Menai Bridge, the distance from which to Con-
way is upwards of 36 miles, with much rock cutting and
steep gradients. At the bridge it is proposed to draw the
train across by horses, which, it is stated, would obstruct
or retard for the time the passage of private carriages,
&c. From the bridge to Holyhead the line is circuitous
and will be expensive. It will terminate half a mile
from the mouth of the present harbour—(which has but
14 feet at low water, and into which a large class steamer
cannot enter)—and it is assumed that passengers will
have to walk that distance. The length of the Holyhead
line is 84 miles 71 chains ; the Ormshead line is 46 miles
5 chains. Allowing an equal speed on both lines, it is
stated that from a parallel line drawn from the 46th mile
of the Holyhead line to the Ormshead, the distance to
Holyhead is 381 miles, and that taking the curves and
that taking the curves and stoppages into account, it can-
tot be accomplished in less than two hours. From the
Ormshead to a parallel line northward of Holyhead is
distance by sea 30 miles, which a first class steamer will
accomplish in three hours, and would reach Dublin only
by one hour behind the packet starting from Holyhead.
The difference in the greater size and power of the
s►eamers that might be employed from the Ormshead
would also considerably reduce this difference of time,
by half an hour, or less. The distance, it is assumed,
from Ormshead, to Kingstown-91 miles—would be ac-
complished in 84 hours. There is a plan of St. George's
Harbour prefixed to the statement, from which it ap-
pears it is proposed to enclose the bay between the two
Ormsheads so as to form an extended harbour of refuge
of 800 acres by a sea wall running (with the exception of
the entrances) almost direct from one promontory or head
to the other—the steam harbour to be at the western ex-
tremity, and a quarantine station for Liverpool at the
other—both sheltered by an elbow of the wall. The
space, however, as yet proposed to be enclosed is 90
acres only of the bay, with a depth of from 17 to 33 feet.
Some objections as to the probability of the bay being
sanded up are met by opposite opinions—and it is stated
that Holyhead Bay, which is not so easy of ingress and
egress, would be more liable to such obstruction. The
capital required for the Holyhead Railway and Harbour
is stated to be £2,500,000; while that required by the
Ormshead Company is but £700,000. To complete the
Holyhead line would require three years; to complete
Ormshead line one year. After stating several other
advantages of the latter as regards the return mails from
Dublin, &c.. the directors state that the distance from
London to Ormshead by rail is 234 miles, and if a speed
of 31 miles per hour were adopted, the whole distance to
Dublin would be accomplished in 15 hours. They state
that they would be willing to contract for the conveyance
of the mail at that speed on their railway, and its convey-
ance twice a day, by approved packets, from Ormshead
to Kingstown, within the time specified. They conclude
'by stating that should the standing orders of the House
of Commons be suspended in their behalf, the rail-
way will be completed within twelve months—" and
and should it be found, on the termination of the contract,
that the communication with Ireland was still incomplete,
the railway may be continued to Holyhead without loss
to the public, as 41 miles of the line will have been com-
pleted." We should add that the Holyhead company re-
quire, in addition to their capital stated, the sanction of
the legislature to a rate cf £400,000 for the construction
of a harbour at Holyhead, and that there would be a
saving to the public on the respective capitals required of
£90,000 per annum, by preferring the Ormshead line.
We, cf course, give all those statements as we find them,
without expressing any opinion cf our own.

ittraturt.

POETRY.

TO MR. RICHARD OASTLER.

THE POOR MAN AND HIS PARISH CHURCH.

(B. 1) the Vicar of Morwenstow, Cornwall.)
The poor have hands, and feet, and eyes,
Flesh, and a feeling mind ;
They breathe the breath of mortal sighs—
They are of human kind !
ep such tears as others shed,
A now and then they smile ;
For sweet to them is that poor bread
They win with honest toil!

The poor men have their wedding-day,
And children c imb their knee,—
They have not many friends, for they
Are in such misery.
They sell their youth, their skill, their pains,
For hire, in hill and glen ;
The very blood within their veins,
It flows for other men !

They should have roofs to call their own
When they grow old and bent,
Meek-houses built of dark grey stone
Worn labour's monument
There should they dwell beneath the thatch !
With threshold calm and free,—
No stranger's hand should lift the latch
To mark their poverty.

Fast by the church those walls should stand,
Her aisles in youth they trod,
They have no l'ome in all the land
Like that old house of God !
There ! there ! the s,icramerit was shed
That gave them heavenly birth,
Anti lifted up the poor man's head
With princes of the earth.

There in the chancel's voice of praise
Their simple vows were pour'd ;
And angels look'd with equal gaze,
On Lazarus and his Lord !
There too, at 'ast. they cstlmly sleep
Where hallow'd blossoms bloom,—
And eyes as fond and faithful weep,
As o'er the rich man's tomb !

They told me of an ancient home
Beside a churchyard wall,
Where roses round the porch would roam,
And gentle jasmines fall :
There, dwelt an old man, worn and blind,
Poor, and of lowliest birth;
lie t.eern'd the last of all his kind,
Hs had no friend on earth I

Men saw him, till his eyes grew dim,
At morn and evening-tide,
Pass 'mid the graves with tottering limb
To the gray chancel's side :
There knelt he down, and meekly pray'd
The prayers his youth had known—
Words, by the Old Apostles made,
In tongues r f ancient tone !

At matin•time, at evening hour,
He bent with reverent knee,
The dial carved upon the tower
Was not more true than he.
This lasted till the blindness fell
In shadows round his bed
And on those walls he lov'd so well
He look'd—and they were fled !

Then would he watch and fondly turn,
If feet of men were there,
To tell them how his soul would yearn
For the old place of prayer :
And some would lead him on, to stand
While fast their tears would fall,
Until he felt bent ath his hand,
The long-accustom'd wall

Then joy in those dim eyes would melt,
Faith found the for.,Ler tone—
His heart, within his bosom, felt
The touch of every stone!
He died—he slept beneath the dew
In his own grassy mound—
The corpse within the coffin knew
That consecrated ground !

I know not why—hut when they tell
Of houses fair and wide,
Where troops of poor men go to dwell
In chambers side by side,—
I dream of that old cottage door
With garlands overgrown,
And wish the children of the poor
Had flowers to call their own.

And when they vaunt, that in those walls
They have their Worship Day,
Where the stern signal coldly calls
The prison'd poor to pray :
I think upon that ancient home
Beside the churchyard wall
Where roses round the porch would roam,
And gentle jasmines fall.

I see the old man of my lay,
His gray head bow'd and bare,
He kneels by one dear wall to pray—
The sunlight in his hair .
Well, they may strive as wise men will,
To work with wit and gold,
I think my own dear Cornwall still
Was happier of old.

0, for the Poor Man's Church again,
With one roof over all,
Where the true hearts of Cornish men
Might beat beside the wall ;
The Altars, where in holier days
Our fathers were forgiven ;
Who went with meek and faithful ways
Through the old aisles to Heaven.

CARDINAL DE RETZ,

OR
THE COURTIER'S PLOT.

BY PETER POPJOY, Esq.

(For the Liverpool Standard.)

CHAPTER XV.—(Continued.)

DURING this terrific scene, Fabien had suffered the
most intense torture. Many times the Scholar endea-
voured to drag him away, but he seemed rivetted to the
spot by some invisible power.
" Here, then," said he at length, "is the result of
all his intrigue and ambition ! A prey to the hate of
both parties ! Nothing is left for him but to die de-
spised. My poor father ! what would you have said to
have seen your much-loved son thus covered with igno-
miny and opprobrium ! "

" Come, cOme," said the Scholar impatiently ; " think
of yourself ; think of Madame de Croissi. Her fate
and yours depend upon our success this day, and we are
losing precious moments. Come, sir."
Fabien sighed • casting about him his mantle, he al-
lowed himself to be led away. The young men tra-
versed the ante-room leading to the Grand Chamber,
and then turned into a narrow passage, at the extremity
of which they found a man armed to the teeth, standing
as a sentinel at a low doorway. The Scholar pronounced
a few words in a whisper, when the man, opening the
door, motioned them to enter a sort of glazed gallery,
where they could see all that passed in the great hall of
parliament.
At each extremity of the Grand Chamber were two
cabinets of light woodwork, which were called " the
lanterns," from the glass windows which closed them in
on the side of the hall. It was in one of these lanterns
that the Scholar and Fabien now took their places. In-
side the windows were curtains, which might be drawn
or withdrawn at pleasure, so that those within could or
could not be seen, yet still be able to observe all that
was going forward below. These places were generally
occupied by the noble ladies of the court, when they
wished to be present on occasions of interest.
When the two young men entered the cabinet, they
found themselves in perfect obscurity, and they were
several minutes before they could distinguish surrounding
objects. The " lantern " was divided into two parts by
a low balustrade, like those in the boxes of our theatres.
They found themselves alone in one of these divisions,
but in the other was seated a lady, clad in black, wear-
ing a mask, who gazed intently down into the hall
through an aperture in the curtain.
As it was generally understood and believed that this
sitting would be the forerunner of some great event be-
tween the contending factions, it required no little cou-
rage in a woman to risk her person so near the scene of
the anticipated conflict. The lady did not seem to
,entertain any fear of personal danger, but continued
to observe with intense interest all that passed before
her eyes. She was agitated at intervals, and her breast
heaved with emotion, as some well-known voice caught
her ear ; and such was her intentness, that she took no
notice of the entrance of the Scholar and his companion.
The former examined the lady with some attention,
when he made a sign to Fabien to advance to the 'bal-
cony, to observe the proceedings. This assembly usually
possessed an air of simplicity, grandeur, and majesty, of
which our modern legislative gatherings can afford us
but little idea. Oh ! there were illustrious men in that
assembly—bright names that will glow for ever upon the
page of history. But, unfortunately, at this period the,
at other times, grave assembly was agitated by passions
the most violent and debasing At the moment that
Fabien stepped down to the balcony of the lantern, a
violent altercation was taking place between the Prince
de Condt and the Coadjutor. The Prince was passion-
ate, haughty, and hasty in his language, like all men
quick in action ; and he made the hall resound with his
voice. De Gondi was cool, polite, skilful, insinuating,
and satirical; but firm and opinionative, replying with
all the forms of respect, hut without ceding to his oppo-
nent a single point. The younger councillors of the
Chamber of Inquiry appeared to take a warm part either
on one side or the other, following the opinions of either
leader ; but the older members and the presidents
only regarded these contentions with profound grief,
and deeply to regret that so disorderly a scene should
take place in the sacred temple of the law.
" Sir," cried the Prince in a loud voice, "it is posi-
tively disgraceful that an ambitious ecclesiastic should
thus dare to profane the sanctuary of justice. The pa-
lace is surrounded by your troops ; your people have
passwords, and rallying signs, and arms. Truly, Mons.
le Coadjutor, this is intolerable."
Paul de Gondi smiled, and bowed profoundly. "I do
not deny," said he, with ironical politeness, " I do not
deny having brought with me many friends to maintain
the liberty of thought, and perhaps to defend my life.
But will your highness inform me why, if I am consi-
dered thus guilty, you have yourself come here with so
numerous and gallant a company ? "
The Prince drew up with a haughty air.

" Gentle-

men," said he, addressing th•,se around him, " did you
ever hear such a question? A Coadjutor of an Arch-
bishop of Paris dares to put himself in comparison with
myself, Louis de Bourbon ! Whence is this insolence
Des Paul de Gondi dispute the right cf precedence with
the first prince of the blood ? "
A profound silence, the silence of dismay, reigned
throughout the hall ; but Gondi did not appear moved
by this vehement apostrophe.
" I have never thought to dispute the right of prece-
dence with your highness," replied Gondi in a silky
voice ; " and I do not believe that there is throughout
the kingdom a man so bold or insolent as to say so; but
there are persons, in this hall even, who, by their sta-
tinn, cannot nor will not cede precedence but to the
King; and your highness ought not to be ignorant of
that, nor forget it."
The model ation, but artfulness, of this reply drew forth
a murmur of applause, and the noise interrupted the
proceedings several minutes ; but such was the attention
which Fabien and the Scholar paid to what was passing
before them, titia they did not remark at the moment the
singular emotion of their unknown neighbour. Her head
was stretched forward, she held her breath, and lifted
up a corner of the curtain before her, as if to examine
more clearly the countenance of the chief of his party.
When Paul de Gondi stopped, she let the curtain hastily
fall, and said with agitation, throwing herselt back on
her seat, as if she could no longer contain her satisfac-
tion, " Well said, Paul de Gondi ; thou bast not given
way an inch." These words, pronounced in a muttering
tone, did not distinctly reach the ears of Fabien ; but
the Scholar, who knew well who the lady was, touched
Fabien in a significant manner. The lady, the moment
her agitation was over, leant once more on the balcony,
and was again in deep attention to the scene.
In the meanwhile silence was re-established, and the

Prince de Conde replied with
disdain—
" You have heard that, gentlemen. M. de Gondi
thinks that he is of that dignity that he can only give
way to the King. He perhaps will be good enough to
explain to us how the Coadjutor to the Archbishop of
Paris can assume this position ? "
" I did not dare to say so," replied the prelate ; " but
if it were the case, I believe iew persons would not but
cede it to me at this present moment."
" It is a defiance hurled at me by this proud-souled
priest," cried the Prince, making a movement as if to
throw himself upon his antagonist. A hundred cries
arose from all parts of the hall ; every one arose ; the
presidents—Mathew Mole at the head—cast themselves
between the two rivals, and, with tears in their eyes,
supplicated them to put an end at once to this terrific
scene, which could not but prove disastrous to all. It
was a most imposing spectacle to see these illustrious
old men, in their n'.ajestic costume, prostrating them-
selves at the feet of the prelate and the prince, exhorting
them to take pity on the state.
" Reflect, sir," said Omer Talon to the Coadjutor, in
a pathetic tone, " that you are the minister of our altars ;
that you cannot wish to see contention and blood. Oh,
my lord ! the first arquebus discharged will be echoed to
the very limits of France ; the first drop of blood spilled
will be the springs of an ocean that will inundate the
country."

.
" My lord ! " said the first president in another group
to the Prince de Conde, "your highness is the nearest
heir to the throne : pray give way to him. You have
saved France in twenty battles : would you plunge us
in a civil war ? Prince of the royal blood, ought you
to profane the temple of the laws ? "
But these words were lost. The peers and heads of
_ . _

the two parties surrounded their chiefs to support them.
The younger councillors did not fail to suspect that the
daggers hidden in their robes would be required. At
length the voice of the Prince was heard above all.
" Gentlemen," said he proudly, " I am called Louis
de Bourbon ; and say what they will, it is not I that will
be the ruin of the state. I beg M. La Rocbefaucault
will give orders to my friends without to retire peacably
home."

" In that case," said the Coadjutor, " I will go myself
and dismiss my adherents. lam a man of peace ; and
say what they will, I have a horror of shedding blood."

A murmur of satisfaction rewarded this wise determi-
nation ; a smile soon lit up the most austere faces ; and
while the Coadjutor and the Duke de Rochefaucault
went out to dismiss their partisans, the presidents retook
their places. Conversation commenced : it was like a
moment of calm between two tempests. In the mean.
time the unknown lady leant her face upon her hand,
continuing to indulge in the most profound meditations.
The Scholar drew towards Fabien, and said in a low
voice, while he noiselessly drew aside the curtain of the
lantern, " M. de Croissi, it is not necessary now to hide
yourself, and you can throw off that cloak, which must
almost suffocate you. But tell me, do you not recognise
the lady who sits near us, and who seems to take so
much interest in the proceedings P"
" How should I know her ?" said Fabien,
" You know well, Eustache, that I cannot be acquainted
with any ladies in Paris."

" You must nevertheless speak to her," replied the
Scholar, with a mysterious air; " for, to hide nothing
from you, it is entirely on her account that you have
been brought here—"

The Scholar was interrupted by a new event, the in-
terest of which absorbed the faculties of both.

We have said that a sort of comparative calm was esta-
blished in the Great Chamber, as soon as the Coadjutor
and M. de La Rochefaucault had left it to dismiss their
friends. Suddenly the most piercing cries were
heard without, and all listened attentively. The next
moment a councillor on the side of De Gondi ran in,
crying in a voice of lamentation, " To the rescue—to
the rescue ! They have assassinated the Coadjut.r "
This news emptied the great ball at once. Cries of
despair and shouts of joy were at length heard on all
sides. Mole cast his eyes to heaven ; he pushed for-
ward, and implored the crowd to let him pass. The
next moment bright swords and sharp poignards were
flashing on all sides.

Expecting to hear of the death of the Coadjutor, the
masked lady seemed struck with a sort of delirium. She
cried in a choking voice, wringing her hands, " They
have killed him ! It is for my sake.and in my service
he has died. Fly, sirs, fly ! " continued she, addressing
two gentlemen who stood silent and motionless at the end
of the lantern ; " haste❑ to his aid ! Revenge him ! I
swear that he shall be avenged ! "
A person whom Fabien had not till now perceived in
the recess of the lantern, stepped forward, and
spoke to her in a low voice, but with some warmth.
Fabien on his part was completely paralysed for a
moment by the announcement of this event, but uttering
a piercing cry, he cast his mantle from him, and rushed
towards the door, exclaiming, " The Coadjutor is my
friend, my benefactor ; the man who has braved all to
save me. Open—open the door ! " he shouted, striking
the panels with the pummel of his sword.
The Scholar rushed towards him, and held him by the
arm. " Whither would you go ? " said he. " Mad-
man ! think of your safety."
"My safety ! What care I for life if l can but re-
venge my protector? Did he think of his own, when
he saved me from the anger of the Queen ? "
" Silence, in the name of all the saints !

" Open, open ! " repeated Fabien, still battering at
the door, the guardian of which had fled,i alarmed at the
disturbance.

" You have no one to deliver, nor vengeance to take
upon any person," said Eustace, looking suddenly into
the hall; " he is here unharmed."
" Who ?"

" The Coadjutor ; it was a false report."
Fabien retook his seat quickly near the balcony,
whence he beheld the Coadjutor entering the Great
Hall, leaning on M. Champlatreux, the son of the Pre-
sident Mole. He was pale, and had really run conside-
rable danger. The Duc de la Rochefaucault, who had
left with him, and who was a mad partizan of the Prince,
seized him by the throat as they went out, and would
have strangled him had it not been for Champlatreux,
who ran to his assistance.

At the sight of the Coadjutor safe and without wound,
the masked lady uttered a cry of joy ; and Fabien, in
the transports of his delight, congratulated the Scholar
on his escape in a manner almost amounting to frenzy.
But from this moment the lady did not seem to concen-
trate all her attention upon the hall : she now and
then turned to look at De Croissi, and several times
she fixed upon him her piercing eyes, which sparkled
through the apertures in her mask.
Paul de Gondi, having reassumed his seat, made a
sign to obtain silence.
" Sir," said he, addressing the first president with a
firm tone of voice, " I have believed till now that you
were my enemy ; but the immense service your son has
just rendered me proves to me how much I have been
deceived. I declare publicly that I owe my life to M.
de Champlatreux, and I tender to you, as well as to him,
my sincere thanks."
Mole was greatly touched. He beheld his son near the
Coadjutor, and he made a sign that he could not speak.
Thus began the friendship between Paul de Gondi and
the first president that never afterwards was broken.
The Prince de Conde, in the meantime, conversed with
considerable warmth, amongst the counsellors and peers
of his party. It was necessary for him to make some ap-
propriate reply to the speech of the Coadjutor, and he
did not appear willing altogether to blame the action of
Larochefoucault, who was one of his most devoted adhe-
rents.
" Gentlemen," said he, at length, " I deeply regret
that the zeal of one of my friends should have thus been
the cause of annoyance to M. le Coadjutor ; but M. le
Coadjutor should recollect that he has not always felt so
much horror at my death as I have this day when his
seemed near."
" I know to what your highness alludes," replied the
prelate, calmly ; " your highness is deceived, if you
believe me capable for a minute of entertaining a thought
of harm towards you. You perhaps," continued he,
casting his rapid glance on the lantern, " are not awarethat I could, if I chose, produce here to-day a witness—
an undoubted witness—whose avowal of the truth would
force you to do justice to the loyalty of my sentiments to-
wards your highness ?"
" Lean forward !" whispered the Scholar quickly to
Fabien ; " do not hide yourself."
The lady in the mask appeared agitated and ill at