CHAPTER III.

"Be absolute for death; or death or life

Shall thereby be the sweeter!"

Shakspeare.

WHEN the Count and Winterfeldt arrived at the sorrowful abode of repentance and condemnation, many a ponderous bar was removed, and many a huge key grated in the lock, ere they reached the cell of the prisoner they came to liberate. From the hard and gloomy being who admitted them they learned that he had just parted from his confessor, and that an hour hence his sister, of whose fruitless application he had been apprized, would be allowed to confer with him a few minutes for the last time.

"I know not what ails me," said Casimir, as he approached the cell; "I feel as much agitated as if I was about to witness

the execution of this poor youth, instead of effecting his deliverance. Go in, Winterfeldt; I will remain for a moment without."

As the door heavily opened, the voice of the prisoner exclaimed, " Maria, I did not expect you yet! Ah! Winterfeldt, is it you? Have you the duke's permission? if not, begone! I will ruin no man but myself."

"Be satisfied, dear Desmond, my visit is licensed. Count Casimir of Vallensteïn arrived at Prague this morning, and interests himself in your fate, so that hope still glimmers."

"I am sorry for it," said Desmond; "it is Hope, that arrant cheat, that defrauds a man of his firmness; but I have done with her. My heart has been tossed like a foot-ball between her and her playfellow Fear, ever since the Duke's decree laid me in durance, but I have done with both. No, no, Winterfeldt, the pendulum is fixed, no breath shall stir it more.

To-morrow will hardly bring a more effectual sedative: in fact, what is death but the annihilation of hope and fear? The pang passes when they die, and they are dead, I can tell you, Winterfeldt."

Only a little stunned, perhaps." "No," said Desmond gravely, "I have left off trifling with myself, and will permit no man to trifle with me. I have made up my short account with a good father who is just gone hence, and he has put more courage into me than ever I imbibed from the juice of the Hungarian grape. I am but a boy, Winterfeldt, and have never committed a much more heinous crime than that for which my soul is banished. to the skies. It is my better angel, who, dubious to what amount this small sum might swell if I had time for sinning, will to-morrow assume the shape of an executioner, and sever my head from my body. I dare meet the hour, Winterfeldt; upon my soul, I do not shrink from it, and this is no time for gasconading; but

there is one pull yet,-I would that you, or your nephew, would prevail with Maria to spare it me--I dread my sister!"-and a tear sprang into his hollow eye.

"But you will see Count Vallenstein, and hear how far his hope of your pardon is authorized?"

"I must see him, I suppose; but, for his errand, I would I might escape the persecution of it."

The Count at that moment appeared: "Excuse my intrusion, lieutenant, for the sake of its motive. My friend Winterfeldt has of course announced me; although, perhaps, he has not acquainted you that I hold from my father a warrant for some days respite, during which space who knows how much farther we may succeed in obtaining from him ?"

"I thank you, my Lord," said the prisoner, in a firm and solemn tone, "but I reject the respite! I will die tomorrow!-at ten to-morrow,-so stands my sentence-does it not, Winterfeldt?

Excuse me, Count, if I be found deficient in due courtesy ; but my equipage waits, my credentials are sealed, and all is ready for my journey. I have a gulf to leap, and I will not stand trembling and shuddering on its brink."

"And do you positively reject my mediation, Mr. Desmond?"

"I do, my Lord. I respect the benevolence of your motives, but cannot consent to a renewal of my own suspense, even to gratify the goodness of your Lordship's heart. I will not be respited! I demand of the duke's justice either my death to-morrow, or my free pardon!"

"Will you at least consent to peruse this scroll, lieutenant ?"

He presented it to him, and lowered the dim lamp which twinkled against the wall. The two first lines acquainted him that his pardon had been granted to the intercession of Count Casimir of Vallenstein. A strong, deep flush suffused the prisoner's pallid cheeks; and, bent as he