LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VI, Issue 692, 7 September 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE 13RIDA.L OF GUILLOTIERE,

Chapter I.

Raoul be St. Victor be la Guillotiere in the clays of Louis XII. built himself a castle on a rocky height in oncfl of the southern provinces of France. He called to his counsels an eminent Italian, named Lodovico Stresa, famous in engineering and in the skilful application of his art to his undertakings. Raoul was a morose and saturnine man, feared, but not loved ; a brave knight, a trusty soldier, but cursed with a temper never known to gain a friend or forgive an enemy. Rumours, after a while, began to circulate amongst the peasants of the estate that, in the centre of the pile of towers, frowning keep, and buttressed and embattled walls, a chamber was being constructed whence those who should be

introduced, the door being once closed, would never be able to find the outlet, but would, so these worthies averred, perish miserably in a forgotten solitude. Be this as it may, nothing was ever discovered of the interior arrangements of the gloomy castle; no object of the Count’s enmity was ever known to disappear, and the story descended as a fireside legacy, handed from one gossip to another to frighten the children withal, by a vague and mysterious threat of giving them to the Count to be put away so securely in his hiding-place, that their own mother should never be able to find them again. Raoul de St. Victor died, however, and was gathered to his fathers. The secret of the castle, if there was one, perished with him, or was hidden in his grave. The castle aud its demesne lapsed to a distant kinsman, in whose line it continued, till not long before the outbreak of the first French revolution, the lord of La Guillotiere, a handsome, blithe, and charming youth, lived alone with his mother, a hospitable pair, in the old grey walls, and chiefiy delighted to assemble around them the young and gay of all the country-side, to hold high revel, and to frolic through the formal gardens and the dark pine woods, throughout unwearied summer days. On one such day as this, amongst the guests, Albert de St Victor might have been observed bending with greatest interest over the dark head of Athenais de Brelancourt, the single beautiful and beloved daughter of her mother, whose chateau adjoined La Guillotiere at no great distance. The youthful chatelaine’s countenance, at once arch and dreamy, spoke of an enthusiastic and romantic soul; her lovely .face, lit up with the ardent warmth and passion of the South, glanced like a ray of sunshine through the gloomy halls. Her lithe limbs, buoyant steps, and graceful movements enchanted the young man, and before many weeks had expired a brilliant company met to celebrate the marrige of the youthful pair. The ceremony ended at the little church of the hamlet, the bride, a shade paler than her wont, the bridegroom, flushed with exultant gaiety, re-entered the bannered hall wherc.the wedding banquet was prepared. It was noticed that, during the feast, a portrait detached itself from the wall, and fell with a sudden crash ; the bride started aud turned pale, nor was she re-assured by observing that it was the founder’s picture, ill-favoured and saturnine, which had caused her the momentary alarm. As the feast went on, however, the untoward accident was forgotten, and the gaiety aud mirth increased as the generous wines began to circulate freely. The guests arose at length from the table, and wandered by twos and threes into the gardens amongst the clipped yew hedges and sundials, and stone flights of steps which adorned the stately pleasure grounds of the olden time. The splendid attire of the wedding company lent to the back-ground of the scene a special charm. Their silks and satins shimmered in the water of the formal basins and canals, aud glittered brightly in the sunlight, as the lords and ladies strolled and sauntered, or arranged themselves in Watteau-like s at the foot of some statue or antique vase, adorned with cactus and stiff-leaved aloes. But several hours must still elapse before supper ; many games were discussed aud proposed to while away the lagging flight of time. Hide-and-seek at length secured a majority, and ip a few minutes the bride disappeared like her of the £ Misletoe Bough.’ At a signal given, the company dispersed in search of her, with joyous cries of mirth and merriment.

The bridegroom, who had joined somewhat languidly in their amusement, as one after another came back unsuccessful from their search, threw himselfjwith energy into the game. Accompanied by two of his friends, they re-entered the castle. They separated in the great hall, and agreed to meet there again at the expiration of half an hour. They liew into one room after another on the ground lloor, looked behind the hangings of every window, lifted up each fold of the heavy tapestry which draped the walls, opened every buffet, every cabinet, every cupboard; they dived into the cellars, explored the buttery, the kitchen, the dairy, even the stabling and the rambling old coach-houses ; at the halfhour’s end each one re-appeared unsuccessful and alone. Edouard and Aime, his two companions, noticed with secret apprehension the pallor that had replaced the bridegroom’s ruddy hue, and the ill-repressed excitement of his manner. *No luck yet,’ he cried, as they approached. ‘Now let us take the next storey, and meet again as before in the corridor above the hall.’ They explored the sleeping-rooms ; Albert even rushed into that of his mother and that prepared for his bride, and into all those occupied by the servants. His friends did the same, and in the ardour of their search opened every clothes-press, every chest, every wardrobe, moved every piece of furniture which could conceal a living form, and presently met again, fatigued and discouraged, to report each his lack of success. By degrees the rest of the company, wearied with their efforts, joined them one by one. Madame de St, Victor beheld them return with ill-concealed alarm. The mother of Athenais made no attempt to dissemble Imr agitation. The bridegroom in vain attempted to smile, and reassure them by suggesting they had scarcely yet been two hours at their pastime. Athenais might have fallen asleep iu some alcove or shady spot, and forgotten the lapse of time, 'ihe company all redispersed for the third time, and cries were heard in the long galleries by way of signal that the game was over. The echoes seemed to multiply the sounds, and then to cause the silence to be more deeply felt. Presently they all returned to th great saloon, and indulged in speculations, which, as the day wore on, assumed a darker cast. The evening was falling of the long summer’s day, when Albert returned from another and closer examination of every corner in the house. The servants were now despatched in every direction with torches and flambeaux through all the woods and gardens. She might, it was thought, have wandered beyond the precints, or perhaps got lost in the forest, stretching far beyond the domain. The half-dried-up moat was judiciously examined. Night was close on then, and every effort proved fruitless. 'J he joyous mirth of the morning had vanished. Who could suggest any word of comfort to the bridegroom on his very nuptial night ? Who could frame any words of consolation to the mother of the bride ? who, as if half stupilied, sat silently wringing her hands, and vainly trying to bring words to her parched lips, which refused to articulate.

{To be contained.)