Connecticut western news., 1872-01-26
LUCE DE COURVAL.

LUCIE DE COURVAL.'
 The time of my story is the year ITO. King Louis, the Bien-Aime, is still alive, with a year or two before him yet. The great Revolution, mother Of the nineteenth century, IS twenty years distant.
 Two gentlemen, in the prime and spring time of life, are dining together in Paris. Both are young-both are aristocrats- both are of advanced opinions. And though but newly married, both agree in finding season in Paris-after long and extremely fatiguing honeymoon-an agree able relaxation.
 Presently servant interrupted them in their talk by candles and two letters.
 ''From '' my place-and, curiously, not from my wife," said the first
 From my place, too and, singularly enough, not from my wife," continued the other.
 "This grows interesting Let us read our letters"
 The faces of each assumed an expression of astonishment and interest.
 'Congratulate me, my friend"
 Congratulate me-" said the other. "I I am father of son."
 ''AndI of daughter. Charles: cham pagne and glasses. We must drink the health of the poor little ones.
 And then over the wine, they solemnly agreed to ally the two families by means of the children; and if both lived, they promised each other that the two should marry.
 Next day M. de le Liraye heard that his wife was dead; and went into the country in order to attend her obsequies This done, he put the boy into the hands of a nurse, and came back to town.
 Tln,e'went on. M. de Courval, the father of the girl, got himself killed. Alfred was taken from the hands of his nurse, and given to priest who endeavored to give his pupil some ideas beyond those of the polite world. He knew nothing of his betrothal-wbich, indeed, his father had well-nigh forgotten.
 When Alfred came at the age of twenty, to join his father in Paris, he found him, whom he had not seen for ten or twelve years, worn-out, shrunken old man, prematurely old-for he was not yet fifty cold, cynical, selfish, and confirmed libertine. There could be no sympathy between the young man-and his father.
 The young man bored and irritated his father; there was nothing between them AO No"lAiUh uO CuOTO w H1Cu might be struck in both their hearts. Aud NJ. de le Liraye, bethinking him how best to get rid of his son, resolved to take advantage of the cid family compact, and send his son to Cour7al
 He wrote courtly letter to Madame dc Ccurval.
 Madame de Courval eoldly wrote back to say that she would be ready to wei come M. Alfred de la Liraye whenever he should be able to honor her poor house with visit. And then, calling her daugh- ter, she told her for the first time, and with many tears, of the sacred promise made by her father. Alhed's father told his tale without any tears at all. He ex- piafned to his son that marriage had been agreed upon, years be:ore; that he had no reason to doubt that Mademoiselle de Courval was lovely and accomplished that there was no time to lose and that the sooner he packed up his things. made his arrangements, and went down to Courval to begin his wooing for himself, the better.
 Alfred started, changed color and laugh eo. But he knew that no good was to be got by resistance.
 "Whcn am to go, sr?"
 |" You had better start tomorrow. I will write to Madame de Courval, then, and tell her you are following the lettAr''
 eff you please, sir-or, no'-a sudden thought striking him-s' perhaps you would simply give me letter of intro duction."
 Just as you please"
 Alfred started on his journey the next morning with suddened heart. It seem- ed as if the beauty and brightness of life had suddenly gone. He was going, in the character of lover, to pay court to and profess admiration for a lady he had never seen he was to urge the almost immedi- ate performance of a promise as cid as himself, which neither of them had con sented to; Ee was to make VOWS as dis taseful to himself as, he believed, they would be to her.
 At Orleans, they changed positions as we'll as horses. He stayed there night and in the morning, before starting, sent for his valet.
 "Franeois," he asked. "wbat is my name ?'
 The man started.
 "My name is the Chevalier de St Aubin.n
 Franeois started but being valet, anc therefore we'll versed in all the arts o intrigue, he imagined Athat, for the first time in his life, his young master was go ing to employ him in the higher walks o valetage, and quickly took the hint.
 "Monsieur is the Chevalier de St. Aubin Why does monsieur travel?"
 Con account of the unquiet state c Paris, and to visit the old friend of hi: mother"
 Towards the close of lovely July even ing, Alfred drove up to the gates of the Chateau de Cowval. It stood in.its owl park-a square, solid building. Madame de Courval was walking in the avenue when Alfred's carriage drove up. H. stopped, and alighted, and introduced him self
 Travelling as I am, madame, felt could not pass this house without stopping to call upon the friend of my motho' Madame de St. Aubin."
 "You are indeed the son of Genevieve Lucie, my daughter, assist me to welcome my oldest friends only son. You ar' welcome, monsieur, in this house."
 And taking his arm, Madame de Cour val led the treacherous deceiver to tn door of the chateau, and, in stately fash ion, asked him to make it his home 50 lon! gthe wolld,