Chapter V: Part IV: The Twilight of the Gods (4)

The story of Marie's life was a strange one. When quite an infant, she had been discovered by Sergeant Sulpizio on the battlefield; and since no one came to lay claim to her, the Regiment had unanimously decided that she should be adopted by them, and brought up in their camp. She was given the name of Marie; and as the years went on, she quickly won the hearts of all by her winning ways, so that she was tenderly cherished by her numerous adopted fathers, and entitled by them the Daughter of the Regiment.

Marie had a loving and loyal heart, and returned the affection lavished on her with interest; and as she grew up to womanhood, she determined to repay her friends' kindness by serving them in the capacity of a vivandière. Nor was there ever a merrier or more light-hearted maiden than Marie, the vivandière; and she was toasted everywhere as the truest comrade, the gentlest nurse, and the tenderest of comforters in time of woe.

When Marie had been first discovered on the battlefield by Sulpizio, he found pinned to her clothing a letter, evidently written by her father, and addressed to the Marchioness of Berkenfeld; but not having the means of delivering this letter at that time, the Sergeant had carefully hidden it away amongst his own possessions. Now, however, as this same Marchioness had at last so strangely and unexpectedly come into his life, he felt it to be his duty to give the document into her hands.

As this thought began to trouble him, he glanced tenderly towards the pretty Marie; and noticing that she looked somewhat sad, and remembering that she had appeared less lively of late, he questioned her as to the reason. Marie, who loved Sulpizio with the most filial affection, soon made a full confession to him; and the Sergeant was astonished to learn that she had not only fallen in love, as he had rather suspected, but that the object of her affection was one whom she ought to have regarded as an enemy.

The girl related that one day quite recently she had been saved from a great danger by a young Swiss named Tonio, to whom she had very quickly lost her heart; and that her love was as ardently returned was proved by the fact that this young man had followed the Eleventh Regiment in all its movements ever since, in spite of the risk he thus ran by haunting the neighbourhood of his country's enemies.

Even as the fair vivandière spoke, there came the sound of a commotion, and a party of soldiers dragged into the camp a young man, whom they had just captured and apprehended as a spy; and, to her surprise and joy, Marie recognised in the prisoner her beloved Tonio.

To the astonishment of all she ran to embrace him; and when she had presently related the story of the service he had rendered her a short time ago, the men released him and welcomed him as a friend.

Tonio now boldly declared his love for Marie, and asked her hand in marriage; and when the elders of the Regiment saw that their beloved Daughter's happiness was bound up in this youth, they gave their consent, declaring, however, that Tonio must join their ranks and serve Napoleon in future. Tonio willingly agreed to this condition, and thus became a soldier of the Grand Army; but he was not yet destined to enjoy the happiness he thought he had secured.

As he entered into sweet converse with his beloved sweetheart, the Marchioness of Berkenfeld came out from the tent where she had been resting; and Sulpizio, unable to stifle the calls of his conscience, now entered into conversation with her on the subject of Marie, and handed to her the letter which he had found pinned to the child's clothing.

When the Marchioness had read this letter, she became much agitated; and hurrying forward, she clasped Marie in her arms, declaring that the document proved the vivandière to be her own lost niece, and the daughter of her sister, who had contracted a secret marriage with a young French captain.

As the soldiers listened to this declaration with dismay, the Marchioness next calmly announced that Marie must now return with her to her château, that she might be properly educated to fill the high position of her birth; and though the poor girl, horrified at the thought of leaving her beloved friends, entreated to be left with them, declaring that she had no desire to be a fine lady, her new relation was adamant in her resolve to remove her niece from such surroundings.

The elders of the Eleventh Regiment were also compelled to admit that they had no right to keep the weeping girl from her own family; and, though they were heart-broken at being thus compelled to part with their darling, they gently persuaded her that she must leave them.

The Marchioness, afraid that further opposition might arise with delay, declared it was necessary for her to continue her journey at once, and that she must certainly take her niece with her; and at last, Marie, on the advice of her friends, agreed to go. So the weeping vivandière took a tender farewell of her lifelong friends, and kissed them all for the last time. When she came to Tonio, she embraced him passionately, declaring that in spite of her altered position, she should always remain faithful to him; and as the sorrowful young man watched his sweetheart drive away with her aristocratic relation, he vowed that he would do great deeds, and win for himself such an honourable name and position that he might be worthy to claim her yet.

On reaching the Château Berkenfeld, the Marchioness engaged masters and teachers to instruct her niece in dancing, music, foreign languages, and all the accomplishments she considered necessary for the education of a young lady of high rank; and Marie, though finding such a life very cramping and irksome after the unrestrained freedom of the camp, endeavoured to please her aunt to the best of her ability.

But the girl's heart was with her military friends; and every now and again she would break out into enthusiastic reminiscences of her childhood, and indulge in snatches of the merry regimental songs, to the horrified dismay of the decorous Marchioness, who was much shocked at such unladylike proceedings.

At the end of a year, Marie was declared by her masters to be vastly improved in her social demeanour; and the Marchioness, eager to establish her niece more firmly in her aristocratic circle, now arranged a marriage for her with the son of a Duchess. However, Marie could not forget her soldier sweetheart, Tonio, whom she still loved as dearly as ever; but in spite of her declarations that she could never wed with another, the Marchioness still continued her negotiations with the ducal suitor, and even arranged the day on which the marriage contract was to be signed.

It was about this time that Sergeant Sulpizio was wounded in an engagement not many miles distant from the Château Berkenfeld, and was sent to the Marchioness to crave her hospitality for awhile until he should be better. The Marchioness received the Sergeant with much kindness, bestowing the utmost attention upon him; and when he had recovered somewhat from his wounds, she even permitted him free intercourse with Marie, and told him of her plans with regard to the grand marriage she had arranged for her.

Sulpizio at first could scarcely recognise the merry little Daughter of the Regiment in the richly-gowned and elegant young lady whom he was now bidden by his hostess to admire; but when Marie, forgetful of her recent lessons in deportment, rushed enthusiastically into his arms, and hugged him with the most unmistakable joy, he knew that her faithful heart had not changed amidst her new surroundings.

The Marchioness was eager to show off her niece's accomplishments to the Sergeant, and desired her to sing to him a sentimental French ballad she had just received from Paris; but she was greatly scandalised when Marie, half-way through the ballad, suddenly broke out into the old rollicking song she had always loved so well, and roguishly went through a number of military evolutions as accompaniment.

But though Marie was cheered for a while by the arrival of the Sergeant, she soon grew unhappy again; for she could not prevent her aunt from carrying out the scheme of the grand marriage.

At last the day arrived upon which the marriage contract was to be signed; and Marie went out into the grounds of the château early in the morning with despair in her heart, feeling that she would certainly be forced to carry out her aunt's wish. However, as she stood there with the sympathetic Sulpizio, she suddenly heard the sound of distant drums and fifes; and as the merry "rataplan" drew nearer, she recognised with joy that it was the marching tune of her brave soldier friends.

It was indeed the Eleventh Regiment on their way from the war; and as they had to pass the Château Berkenfeld, they made a halt there in order to greet their adopted Daughter.

Marie was delighted at this happy meeting with her old comrades; but her crowning joy was the moment when she was clasped in the strong arms of her beloved Tonio, who was now the commanding officer of the Regiment, having been thus rapidly promoted for his gallantry on the battlefield.

Tonio soon boldly announced that his military rank now rendered him a fit suitor for Marie; and he at once asked her hand in marriage of the Marchioness, a request in which he was loyally supported by the whole Regiment, who were eager that their darling should wed the man she loved, and not be forced into a marriage she detested.

But the Marchioness haughtily refused to give her consent, being bent upon her niece wedding into an aristocratic family; and since the notary had already arrived (although the prospective bridegroom had been detained at Court), she declared that Marie must sign the marriage contract without further delay.

On hearing this cruel resolve Tonio stoutly declared that, contract or no contract, he should certainly carry off his sweetheart by force; and then the Marchioness, in order to avoid such a scandal, revealed to Marie that she was not merely her niece, but actually her own daughter, the child of a marriage she had contracted with a poor Savoyard Captain, at whose death she had concealed the whole affair, lest the knowledge of such a mésalliance should injure her in the good graces of her aristocratic relatives.

She therefore now claimed parental authority over her daughter; and Marie, feeling that she could not refuse to obey her own mother, consented to sign the marriage contract, declaring, however, that it would break her heart to part from her beloved Tonio.

The gentle submission of the despairing girl, however, at last overcame the hard resolve of her mother; and the sight of Marie's deep affection for her humbly-born lover brought back to the proud Marchioness the remembrance of happy days when she herself had loved. With tear-dimmed eyes and softened heart, she now called the lovers to her side; and placing Marie's hand in that of Tonio, she gave her consent to their union.

The contract with the son of the Duchess was thus promptly broken off; and whilst Marie and her lover rejoiced together, the delighted soldiers raised mighty cheers for the happiness of their beloved Daughter of the Regiment.

MARTHA

The Lady Henrietta was dull. She sat one summer morning in the gilded boudoir of her fine house at Richmond and heaved sigh upon sigh, for although Maid-of-Honour to Queen Anne, and the loveliest and most fascinating of all the Court beauties, she found no satisfaction in life. She was wearied to death of balls and routs, of the ceaseless flatteries of her many admirers, and of the tiresome monotony of Court life; and, satiated with pleasure, she had retired to her own home for a few days' respite, to indulge in vapours to her heart's content.

Her merry little waiting-maid, Nancy, sat watching her mistress with anxious eyes, not knowing what to make of this new mood; and at last she said: "Surely, my lady, you are to be envied, with your high position, your dazzling beauty and social success! Why, then, mope, when such joys are still to be had?"

"But I am weary of just those very joys, Nancy!" answered the pleasure-sated Court lady, pettishly. "And unless I can find some new interest or excitement soon, I shall die of dulness!"

Just then a footman announced "Lord Tristan Mickleford!" and a stout, middle-aged gentleman of foppish manners, dressed in the extreme of the fashion, entered the room. He was a cousin and would-be admirer of the handsome Maid-of-Honour; and bowing elaborately before her, he began to make courtly speeches in exaggerated language, putting himself at her service for the day, and offering to escort her to any amusement she wished to indulge in. But the spoilt beauty turned away impatiently, declaring heartlessly that his society only bored her; and then, hearing sounds of merriment coming from without, she ran to the open window to see what was going on.

A group of gay country maidens and youths were passing by on their way to the statute fair at Richmond, where they would stand in ranks to be hired as servants for the ensuing year, according to a local custom; and the sight of these merry rustics suddenly suggested a daring frolic to the bored Henrietta, who sprang to her feet and exclaimed: "No more dulness to-day! We will dress ourselves in peasant garb, Nancy, and go to the fair as country wenches seeking a master! 'Twill amuse us vastly, and perhaps someone will hire us as servants. Oh, what a frolic! And you shall come too, my good Tristan, as our protecting brother."

The foppish Lord Tristan was shocked and dismayed at the scheme, protesting pompously that it was quite beneath his rank and dignity to mingle in the motley crew of a fair; but upon Henrietta declaring she would never speak to him again unless he obeyed her sovereign will in this matter, he gave a feeble consent, and grumblingly allowed himself to be garbed as a country bumpkin. By the time he was ready, his mischievous cousin joined him again with Nancy, both of them attired in homespun, with short bright skirts, neat bodices, and quaint head-dresses, certainly the prettiest and smartest peasant maidens ever seen in those parts; and full of gaiety and eager excitement, the two girls dragged off their unwilling swain to the fair.

When they arrived upon the scene, the business of the day was at its height; and quickly noting the long row of country wenches standing at one side waiting to be hired as domestic servants, Henrietta determined to join their ranks. She adroitly invented an excuse for getting rid of the disgusted Lord Tristan for a short time, and then, bubbling over with mirth, the two saucy girls took up their stand amidst the serving-maids.

Amongst the busy crowd were two handsome well-to-do young farmers, by name Plunket and Lionel, who owned a joint-farm; and being in need of domestic help, they had come to the statute fair in order to hire a couple of wenches. These two, though loving each other as such, were not brothers, but had lived together since early childhood. Neither could recollect much of their first acquaintance, knowing little beyond the fact that Plunket's parents had rescued Lionel's father, a stranger and fugitive, from danger and destruction, and that the mysterious stranger, before dying, had bequeathed a ring to his orphan son, with the injunction that should he ever be in distress, to send it to the Queen, when his whole fate might be changed. Not being able to discover anything further about the birth or rank of the orphan left to their charge, the honest farmer and his wife brought him up with their own son; and when the farm at length came into the hands of the young Plunket, he made Lionel share his inheritance with him.

As the young farmers passed down the rows of country wenches, they presently caught sight of Lady Henrietta and Nancy; and being greatly struck with their good looks and smart appearance, they went up to the two girls at once, and began to bargain with them, offering considerably higher wages than they had ever paid before. Henrietta, enjoying the frolic more and more, and delighted to see that the handsome Lionel was struck with her beauty, threw him a roguish glance, and recklessly accepted his offer, giving her name as Martha; and the merry Nancy, willing enough to follow where her lively mistress led, gave her word also.

The young farmers, pleased at having secured two such attractive serving-maids, at once paid over the earnest-money, by which they were bound to them for a whole year's service, and then, having no further business at the fair, they desired the girls to follow them to the farm, that they might begin their duties at once.

Then Henrietta and Nancy, more amused than ever, broke out into peals of laughter, declaring that they had only given their word in a joking manner, and never intended to hire themselves out at all; but their merriment soon ended when the two young farmers, indignant at such conduct, calmly informed them that, having taken earnest-money, they were bound by law to render service for a whole year, according to the custom of the district. The local sheriff who presided over the statute-hiring ratified what they said, and ordered the girls to follow their new masters at once; and then Henrietta, seeing that she had carried her escapade too far, was in great distress, not daring to disclose her true name and rank for fear of the scandal coming to the ears of the Queen.

Lord Tristan returned at this juncture, and full of wrath at what had happened, tried to withdraw the frightened girls from the fair; but the country folks, indignant at the statute rule being broken, set upon him at once, and quickly dragged him to the other end of the field.

Meanwhile the two young farmers bore their newly-hired servants off to the farm without more ado; for Henrietta now thought it best for the present to submit quietly to the indignity she had brought on herself, hoping to escape later on.

On arriving at the farm, the triumphant masters soon discovered that they had made a very bad bargain as to the working capabilities of their new maids; for neither of the girls could do a stroke of domestic work, and were extremely indignant on being bidden to perform the smallest service. Nancy, indeed, went further still, being bent on mischief, for she soon developed a destructive tendency; and Plunket, who had undertaken to instruct her in her duties, had his hands full in preventing her from breaking all his domestic goods and chattels.

Whilst these two were squabbling in the kitchen, Henrietta condescended to receive a lesson in spinning from the handsome Lionel, whose gentle manners and naturally aristocratic bearing had impressed her pleasantly from the first; and Lionel, whose enthusiastic admiration for the supposed "Martha" was developing into love at a most alarming rate, found the task a very pleasant one. The touch of the soft white hand thrilled him as he guided it through the intricacies of the spinning-wheel; and the beautiful girl made such a charming picture as she sat there, playing at work, that he was filled with delight.

Elated at having made such an easy conquest of the young farmer, whose ardent glances soon betrayed the state of his susceptible heart, Henrietta quickly recovered her good spirits; and later on she was even persuaded to sing by the indulgent master, who was already recklessly encouraging his new handmaid in idleness.

So the bewitching Martha sang "The Last Rose of Summer," in a voice so soft and sweet that Lionel was enthralled; and when the song came to an end, he flung himself impetuously at her feet, intoxicated with delight, declaring passionately that he loved her, and that, so far from being his servant, he now desired to make her his wife. Lady Henrietta, astonished and dismayed at the quick development of the passion she had so carelessly excited, took refuge in laughter, and poor Lionel, seeing his raptures thus treated with lightness, was plunged into wretchedness.

Plunket now returned with the saucy Nancy, whose outrageous behaviour had by this time nearly driven him frantic, though her tantalizing charms had already won his heart; and ordering the two unsatisfactory servants to bed, he declared to Lionel he feared they had made a bad bargain.

When Lady Henrietta and Nancy found themselves alone in their chamber they had no intention of going to rest, and as soon as they made sure that the two young farmers had also retired for the night, they began to think of some way of escape. Just as they were laying their plans, they heard a voice calling to them from outside, and quickly throwing up the window, beheld with much relief the portly form of Lord Tristan Mickleford standing below. He hastily explained in a nervous whisper that he had a carriage waiting for them beyond the farmyard; and eagerly clambering down from the low windowsill, Henrietta soon made her way to the welcome vehicle. Nancy quickly followed, and the movements of the fugitives were so silent that it was not until the carriage was driving off that the defrauded masters were aroused.

Then, when they found that their pretty maids had flown, the two young farmers were full of indignation; and next day they searched the whole country-side for news of the runaways. Their efforts, were however, in vain, for by this time, Henrietta had returned gladly to her Court life. But a strange sadness now frequently came over her spirits, for her heart had been more deeply touched by the honest affection of the manly Lionel than she was willing to admit, and she longed to see him again, even though she knew the difference in their rank forbade her to give him hope.

Lionel was now filled with despair, the loss of his beautiful Martha only increasing his passion; and he still continued to make inquiries for her, accompanied in his search by the faithful Plunket, who also desired to find Mistress Nancy, whose mischievous glances had bewitched him.

Then, at last, the two lovers met their charmers once again.

One day a grand royal hunt took place in Richmond forest, and Lady Henrietta, as one of the Maids-of-Honour, joined the ranks of the huntresses, together with her maid, Nancy. Soon after the hunt had commenced, however, Henrietta withdrew a little apart from the gay company, and wandering down a lonely glade, soon gave herself up to the melancholy thoughts that had lately taken possession of her.

But Nancy, merry and lively as ever, went on with the rest of the party; and presently, to her surprise and utter consternation, she came suddenly face to face with the young farmer, Plunket, who happened to be strolling through Richmond forest that day, on his way from the village.

No sooner did Plunket set eyes on Nancy than he recognised her instantly as his runaway maid; and accosting her without ceremony, he ordered her to return to his service at once. At first Nancy tried to put him off by laughing and pretending not to know him; but when Plunket seized her arm gently, but firmly, insisting that she should follow him, the girl was alarmed for her mistress's sake, and turning to the surprised ladies and gentlemen, she called on them to come to her rescue.

Immediately the indignant party closed about Plunket, buffeting and belabouring him with their hunting-crops, and the unfortunate farmer was obliged to beat a retreat as best he could.

Meanwhile Lionel, who was also walking in the forest not far away, had wandered unconsciously into the very same glade that Henrietta had selected for her lonely ramble, and presently approaching a lady of quality garbed in the rich habit of a fashionable huntress, he recognised, to his utter astonishment, the beautiful features of his beloved Martha. In great delight, he hurried forward with outstretched arms to greet her, and at first, Henrietta, overjoyed in spite of herself, uttered an exclamation of pleasure. Then, recollecting that she would be disgraced should the knowledge of her escapade become known at Court, and seeing that her companions in the chase were already approaching her, she suddenly turned cold, and haughtily denied the young farmer's acquaintance.

But Lionel, his passion enhanced at again beholding the object of his affection, determined to assert his rights as a master, and commanded her eagerly to return to his employ; and then Henrietta, afraid of what might follow, called out to her companions for help, declaring that Lionel was a madman.

Instantly the rest of the hunting party crowded around, and when Lionel heard Henrietta addressed on all sides as "My Lady," he saw in a flash that a trick had been played upon him at the statute fair, and that this fine Court beauty had only been amusing herself at his expense. Knowing now that his love could never hope to be requited, he was filled with disappointment and despair, and he began to pour forth such scornful, passionate reproaches, that the huntsmen, thinking him mad indeed, closed around and attempted to drive him away.

At this moment Plunket appeared on the scene once more, and quickly joining in the fray, he at length managed to drag his friend away, and returned with him to the farm.

Here poor Lionel, overcome by grief and refusing to be comforted, feeling that his beloved one was now lost to him for ever, quickly fell into a delirious state bordering on frenzy, and Plunket, fearing for his friend's life, at length sent a message to Lady Henrietta (whose true rank and name he had quickly discovered), entreating her to visit the farm at least once again. With this message he also sent the ring that had been bequeathed to Lionel by his mysterious father, requesting the Maid-of-Honour to place it in the hands of the Queen; for he felt that this was a fitting time for the token to be presented, since his poor friend could not well be in greater distress, nor in more urgent need of help.

When Lady Henrietta received the message, she was conscience-stricken and filled with grief, for she had instantly regretted her cruel treatment of Lionel in the forest, and could no longer hide from herself the fact that she loved him with her whole heart. She determined to go to the farm at once, and humbly accept the love of this honest, faithful wooer; but before starting she sought an interview with her royal mistress, into whose hands she delivered the ring that Plunket had sent.

A wonderful surprise was now in store for all; for the carefully-hoarded ring brought back a long-forgotten incident to the Queen, and proved to her that the young farmer, Lionel, was in reality the only son of the unfortunate Earl of Derby, who, wrongfully accused of treason, had been forced to flight, and had died in exile.

The royal lady determined to heal the wrongs inflicted on the father by restoring the son to his rightful rank and possessions; and the joyful tidings of this happy change in his fortunes was carried to Lionel by the fair Henrietta herself.

The young Earl was duly reinstated to the proper rank, wealth, and Court favour to which he was entitled; but, to the utter grief of Henrietta, the sufferings to which her thoughtless conduct had subjected him had unhinged her lover's mind, and rendered his memory of all the incidents connected with her a blank.

Henrietta was in despair, for by this time Plunket and the merry Nancy had already made up their minds to marry, and she longed to follow their example. At length a gleam of hope came to her, for having read that when a sudden shock unhinges a person's reason the mind can sometimes be restored to its proper balance by repeating the incidents that first caused the calamity, she determined to try the experiment with Lionel.

Easily prevailing upon her friends to help her in the scheme, she caused an impromptu fair to be held in her own gardens, setting up stalls and booths in exact imitation of the Richmond statutes, with a rank of serving-maids waiting to be hired; and when all was ready, she dressed herself in peasant garb once more, and took up her stand with Nancy amongst the country girls.

Then Plunket led Lionel through the show and down the ranks of pretty maids as he had done on the actual day of the fair; and, as all had hoped, the light of memory gradually brought back the wandering reason of the young Earl, and restored his mind to its normal state.

The moment he beheld Henrietta in her dainty peasant dress, he recognised the beautiful Martha whose charms had won his heart; and a clear recollection of all the events succeeding the statute fair coming suddenly upon him, he hurried forward and clasped her in his arms with great joy, knowing now that there was no further obstacle to their union.

So the mock fair had served its purpose, and a short time afterwards the young Earl of Derby, restored to reason and happiness, was married to Lady Henrietta, whom he had learned to love so dearly as Martha the serving-maid.

FAUST

In a certain city of Germany, during the early years of the sixteenth century, a lonely student sat in his laboratory late one night, musing on the vanity of all human knowledge, and railing at the powerlessness of man to unravel the secret mysteries of Nature.

He was an old man who had spent the whole of his life in the quest of learning; and not without considerable success, for Faust the Alchemist, the laborious student of magic and mystery, the seeker-out of hidden wonders, had gained much repute amongst his fellows, and was even looked upon with awe.

But the accumulation of knowledge had brought no satisfaction to his soul, for the magic powers he sought were still withheld from him; and now, as the old man sat in his silent chamber, lonely and unloved, he felt that his ceaseless toil had been in vain, since in the pursuit of learning he had let the joys and beauties of life pass him by, and nothing but disappointment remained. Of what use, he thought despairingly, was all his vaunted knowledge, when it could not bring back to him his lost youth, with its faith, its enthusiastic glow, its raptures, its ambitions, and its fond dreams of hope and happiness?

Filled with sudden rage at the impotency of the vain learning he had sacrificed his precious youth to attain, the old man seized a goblet containing a poisonous draught, and, determined to live no longer, he was just about to drain its contents, when the song of a band of merry peasants on their way to the fields--for the day was now dawning--arrested him in the fatal act.

Faust put down the goblet with a shaking hand and listened to the fresh young voices of the peasants, which unconsciously brought back to him the desire to live; but finding that their song was all of love, hope, and prayer, he fell into another paroxysm of rage, and called wildly on the powers of evil to come to his aid.

Instantly there was a flash of unearthly light, and a terrific crash of thunder, and the Prince of Evil himself stood before him!

Affrighted at this sudden answer to his rash invocation, Faust shrank back in horror; but the Demon, who, clad in brilliant red garments, with a flashing sword at his side, had taken on the form of a gallant of the period, under the name of Mephistopheles, approached his intended victim, and demanded of him in mocking tones what he desired. Did he want gold? Or glory? Or a kingdom?

The old man shook his head, for none of these things had any charm for him, and he still feared his awful visitor; but at last, tempted by the one fierce desire still left to him, he could restrain himself no longer, and passionately implored the Demon to bring back to him his lost youth, with all its entrancing delights and capacities for sweet enjoyment.

Mephistopheles replied that he had power to grant his wish, and could instantly restore him to a glorious youth; but for one price only would he do this thing--the price of Faust's own soul! As he spoke, the Demon drew forth a parchment, and requested the old man to sign it, that it might be an agreement between them; but Faust hastily drew back, hesitating to enter into such a dreadful compact.

Then Mephistopheles, seeing that further temptation was needed before he could gain his ends, caused by his supernatural power a wonderful vision to appear; and it seemed to Faust that the walls of his chamber suddenly melted away, and that in their place he beheld, as in a picture, a beautiful village maiden, who sat spinning beside a cottage door. The angelic looks of this lovely maiden filled the heart of Faust with a passionate desire to possess her, and upon the Demon assuring him that this wish should also be gratified if he would agree to his terms, the old man seized his pen and recklessly signed the parchment.

The vision slowly faded away, and then the Demon, taking from the table the discarded poison goblet--the contents of which he hastily changed into a magic potion--bade his now secured prey to swallow the draught.

Faust eagerly did so, and immediately he was transformed from an old man into a handsome youth of noble appearance, with quick young blood flowing through his veins, and a heart throbbing with impulsive feeling and enjoyment of life. He found himself splendidly clad in the rich garments of a noble, and plentifully supplied with gold; and, determined to make the most of the pleasures now brought once again within his grasp, the rejuvenated Faust sallied forth with his evil companion. For Mephistopheles had no intention of leaving his victim until the time came to claim him for his own; and upon Faust impatiently desiring to make the acquaintance of the lovely maiden shown to him in the vision, the cunning Demon, eager to lead him further astray in the paths of evil, took him at once to the picturesque old city of Nuremburg, where the fair object of his passion dwelt in innocence and peace.

As the two strangers made their way into Nuremburg, they found that a fair was being held there, and in the fair ground at the entrance to the town a very lively scene was taking place. Gay students, pretty maidens, old men, and prim matrons, all clad in holiday attire, were laughing, chattering, and bargaining on every side; and a group of soldiers, just about to depart for the wars, were standing under the trees outside a quaint old inn, drinking a gay farewell to their citizen friends.

Amongst these soldiers was a young man named Valentine, who alone appeared grave amongst the merry throng; and on being rallied by his careless companions for his dull spirits, he told them that his heart was heavy at the thought of leaving behind him his orphan sister, Margarita, a beautiful and virtuous young maiden, who, though placed in the charge of a worthy woman, would be left many months without a brother's loving care. Upon hearing this, a fair youth named Siebel, who, though scarcely more than a boy, had already the dauntless spirit of a man, came forward and declared enthusiastically that he would guard and watch over Margarita as a brother, in his stead; and Valentine, somewhat comforted by this assurance, pressed his young friend's hand gratefully, and joined in the parting merriment of his companions.

Whilst the soldiers were thus singing songs together and drinking their farewell bumpers, Mephistopheles suddenly joined the group, and declared that he would sing them a song also; and though the revellers shrank back instinctively from the evil-looking stranger, they felt themselves powerless to resist his mocking tone of command.

When the song came to an end, Mephistopheles began to foretell certain events in the lives of those present, and seeing a look of scorn and horror in the eyes of young Siebel, who unconsciously felt the dark stranger to be an enemy, he seized the youth's hand, and pronounced that every flower he touched henceforth should instantly wither and die.

Then, declaring that the wine offered to him was not worthy of the name, he struck with his sword a little cask surmounted by an effigy of Bacchus, which served as a sign to the inn, and instantly there gushed forth a stream of rich wine, with which the revellers quickly filled their cups.

But no sooner had they swallowed the strange fluid than they felt it coursing through their veins and mounting to their brain like liquid fire, and Mephistopheles, laughing sardonically at their amazement and discomfiture, filled a goblet himself, and drank it off to the health of "Fair Margarita!"

Enraged at hearing the name of his pure young sister thus lightly uttered by the sinister, fortune-telling stranger, Valentine resentfully drew his sword and rushed upon him, followed by Siebel and the other gallants standing about; but Mephistopheles quickly drew a circle around him with the point of his weapon, and his assailants then found themselves powerless, since their swords instantly snapped in half when thrust within the magic circle. Seeing that infernal powers were being used against them, the gallants held up aloft the hilts of their swords; and before the Sign of the Cross, the Demon cringed abjectly, and was compelled to retire.

The soldiers now made their final farewells, and went off to join the departing regiment; and soon after they had gone, Mephistopheles again appeared with Faust, who was by this time all eagerness to see the fair object of his vision. In answer to his oft-repeated impatient demand, Mephistopheles at last pointed to a fair-haired maiden now approaching them with a slow step and downcast eyes--a maiden of exquisite beauty, with all the charms of guileless innocence and perfect faith.

It was Margarita, the beloved sister of Valentine; and as Faust gazed upon her, he recognised with rapture the form and features of the lovely maiden shown to him by the Demon in his laboratory.

Hurrying forward with delight, he bowed gracefully, and begged to be allowed to escort her to her home; but Margarita was accustomed to treat the advances of gallants with coldness, and so, though her heart throbbed with sudden joy as she met the ardent gaze of the handsome stranger, she replied modestly that she was but a humble maiden who needed no such escort. She then passed quietly on her way; and the discomfited Faust gazed after her with eyes of passionate admiration and tender longing, for an uncontrollable love for the sweet maiden was already surging in his heart.

Mephistopheles determined to foster and encourage this passion, hoping to secure by means of it a second victim in the unconscious Margarita, whose innocent soul he longed to destroy; and late that evening, when darkening shadows were beginning to fall, he led the willing Faust to the humble cottage where the fair maiden dwelt.

As they approached the flower-laden garden, the young Siebel came forth and passed down the street; for this enthusiastic youth also loved Margarita, and came to leave flowers for her every evening. On this particular evening, however, he had had a strange experience, for each flower he plucked had withered in his hand, and remembering the words of the mysterious stranger he had met that afternoon, he had been filled with dismay. But suddenly he bethought himself to dip his fingers in a little bowl of holy water that was placed within the porch of Margarita's cottage; and then, to his joy, he found that the curse was powerless, and that the blossoms he gathered after this act remained fresh. So laying his offering as usual upon a seat outside the porch, he came away; and immediately afterwards Faust and Mephistopheles entered the garden.

Noticing Siebel's flowers upon the rustic seat, Mephistopheles produced a casket of valuable jewels and placed it beside them; and then he withdrew with Faust, into the shadows, to watch the result.

Presently the lovely Margarita came forth into the garden with a pensive air; for she was thinking of the handsome young cavalier who had accosted her in the afternoon, and whose passionate glances of admiration had thrilled her through and through, and set her maiden heart throbbing so wildly. She soon noticed poor Siebel's flowers, and tenderly laid them aside with an indulgent smile; and then seeing the strange casket, she took it up wonderingly and opened it.

An exclamation of childish delight escaped her on beholding the dazzling jewels within, and unable to resist the temptation of adorning herself with them, she tremblingly clasped the pretty baubles about her snowy neck and arms. A little mirror had been artfully laid within the casket, and as she gazed at the reflection of herself thus loaded with glittering gems and ropes of priceless pearls, she wondered what her noble gallant would think if he could behold her now, adorned as a princess.

Just then Dame Martha, the worthy, but not very vigilant, guardian in whose charge Margarita had been left during her brother's absence at the wars, came forth from the cottage; and admiring the sparkling jewels--which Margarita, now ashamed of her momentary vanity, endeavoured to remove--she declared that they must have been sent by some noble adorer.

At this moment Faust and Mephistopheles came forth from the shadows to which they had retreated, and the latter, declaring to Martha that he had important news for her, soon enticed the dame, with many flattering phrases, to leave her precious charge and wander with him to one side.

Left alone with Margarita, Faust approached the beautiful maiden eagerly, and, unable to control his feelings any longer, passionately declared his love for her; and Margarita, though she resisted his advances for some time, at length gave way to the answering love in her own heart, and resigned herself to the tender embraces of the handsome cavalier.

After this the enraptured lovers frequently met; for the fiendish Mephistopheles continually encouraged and aided Faust in his passionate but lawless pursuit of Margarita, never once relaxing his demoniacal temptations until the ruin of the poor girl was assured, and her innocence destroyed.

The joys of a rapturous love were not long permitted to the betrayed Margarita, for as the months went on, and her dishonour became known, she had to submit to the scorn and sneers of her old companions, who showed little pity for the frailty of one whose virtue had always been held up to them as a pattern; and all avoided her, except the faithful Siebel, who still sought to bring comfort to the gentle maiden whom a true and tender love had led astray.

Full of grief and remorse, Margarita sought refuge in prayer and repentance; but even in the church, the mocking Demon, whose cruel temptation she had been unable to resist, would find her out, and fill her heart with fear and despair.

It was whilst Margarita was praying one evening in the church near her humble cottage home that the soldiers returned from the wars; and the brave Valentine--who had covered himself with glory in the campaign--upon arriving in the town, at once set off to receive the praises and greetings of his beloved sister.

At the door of the cottage, however, he was met by the unhappy Siebel, from whose agitated words he quickly learnt of what had happened during his absence; and full of grief and anger, he rushed within, to pour forth reproaches upon the erring sister who had thus brought a stain upon his name.

Siebel ran to the church to acquaint Margarita with her brother's return; and no sooner had he gone than Mephistopheles appeared with Faust, who was still unable to keep away from the fair maiden he had betrayed.

He was, however, sad and remorseful, and it was his evil companion who, to entice Margarita from her chamber, struck a guitar and sang a light serenade beneath the window.

When the song came to an end, Valentine rushed out from the cottage, sword in hand, and knowing that the betrayer of his sister stood before him, he challenged Faust to combat. Instantly their blades clashed together, and Faust, aided by the diabolical intervention of Mephistopheles, quickly overcame his opponent, and Valentine fell to the ground mortally wounded.

At this moment, Siebel and Margarita came forth from the church; and seeing what had happened, the wretched maiden, with a loud cry of woe, flung herself upon the prostrate body of her brother, beseeching him to have mercy, and pardon her. But Valentine roughly flung her from him, declaring that her sin had slain him; and with his last breath he cursed her passionately as he fell back lifeless.

Horror-stricken at this awful calamity, of which she was the cause, the unhappy Margarita was filled with unutterable grief and despair; and her already harassed mind giving way under the weight of woe now fallen upon it, in a sudden fit of mad frenzy she took the life of the poor babe who was soon afterwards born to her. For this terrible, though unconscious act, she was immediately flung into prison and condemned to death; but even as she lay in the gloomy cell awaiting her execution, her weary soul, worn out with suffering and grief, was already preparing to leave its earthly abode.

Faust was now filled with remorse and despair for the sad fate the gratification of his selfish passion had brought upon the beautiful maiden who had loved him so tenderly; and on the night before the execution, aided by Mephistopheles, he gained access to her cell, and eagerly besought her to fly with him.

But at first, Margarita, whose mind was still wandering, scarcely heeded what was said to her; and then, as her thoughts grew clearer, and her gaze suddenly fell on the sinister form of Mephistopheles, who looked upon her exultingly with eyes like coals of fire, she realised the danger of this new temptation to return to a life of sin, and spurned her lover's offer.

Before the return of Valentine she had begun to place her reliance in prayer and repentance, and now these holier feelings once more gained the ascendancy over her, and she fell upon her knees to pray. It was in vain that the despairing Faust implored her to escape with him, and the exulting Demon tempted her to yield; and at last, with a final prayer for pardon and mercy, she fell back upon her wretched couch, and expired at their feet.

Mephistopheles uttered a cry of fiendish triumph; but at that moment a chorus of angelic voices was heard proclaiming forgiveness for the repentant sinner, whose faithful prayers had reached the Mercy-Seat on High.

Faust, awed and overcome with sorrow, sank to his knees in prayer, and as the Evil Spirit, thus balked of his expected prey, shrank back defeated, the prison walls opened, and the released and ransomed soul of Margarita was borne upwards to its celestial home.

PHILEMON AND BAUCIS

One stormy evening, long ago, in the mythical days of the gods and heroes of the Ancients, a poor peasant named Philemon and his wife, Baucis, were resting peacefully in their humble cottage, where they had lived together for many years of happy wedded life. They were now growing old; but although the shadows of life's eventide were fast deepening around them, they did not waste their remaining days in uttering vain regrets after departed youth, because the love in their hearts was as fresh and green as ever, and happiness was still theirs, in spite of poverty and old age.

As they sat together in the twilight this evening, whilst the sound of the gathering storm without came every now and again to their ears, they were rejoicing with each other because of the joy that yet remained to them. Though they could no longer join in the merry dances and wild pleasures of the gay young folks around them, that fact did not trouble them at all, since contentment was theirs; and they declared to one another that even in the days of their youth they were not happier than now in their old age, for, as the years went on, the love in their faithful hearts grew deeper and stronger than ever. Since they enjoyed such perfect love and harmony, they did not envy the careless youths and maidens, but resigned themselves cheerfully to old age, knowing well that life would be sweet to the very end whilst love remained to them.

Thus did the contented old couple talk happily together until darkness fell; and not even a band of merry Bacchantes who presently danced past the cottage door, on wildest revels bent, could draw from either a sigh of regret for the lost pleasures of youth.

When, however, the song of the Bacchantes had died away in the distance, Baucis declared that it was now time for the evening meal, and went into an inner room to prepare the humble food that was sweeter to them than the luxuries of the rich, since it was procured by their own honest labour, and seasoned with love.

When she had gone, Philemon busied himself by making the fire burn more brightly; and whilst engaged in this homely task, he was interrupted by an imperative knock at the cottage door. By this time the storm was raging with great violence; and when, upon opening the door, he was accosted by two strangers who craved shelter from the wind and rain, Philemon at once invited them to enter, being distressed that travellers should be out on such a wild night.

Now, though the poor peasant little guessed it, these two strangers were in reality Jupiter, the Father of the Gods, and Vulcan, the God of Fire and master of the workers in metal, who were visiting the earth thus disguised in order to bring punishment upon certain disobedient mortals who had offended them. Having, however, been overtaken by this terrible storm, brought about by Jupiter's own commands as his means of punishment, they had sought refuge at the first homestead they came to, hoping that the owner might grant them shelter, and thus prove himself to be more worthy than his neighbours, upon whom the angry god's vengeance was now about to fall.

Their hopes were realised; for Philemon received them with great kindness and hospitality, leading them to the warm hearthstone, where he proceeded to divest them of their wet cloaks, declaring it was a delight to him to welcome guests whom the gods must surely have sent.

Jupiter was very well pleased at this reception; but Vulcan, being in an exceeding ill-humour, and still smarting from the recent intrigues of his beautiful wife Venus with the gods Mars and Mercury, only grumbled and growled at having been dragged from his accustomed work against his will, and even called down curses upon the gods who were the cause of his domestic woes and of his present plight. Upon hearing this, Philemon, being a devout upholder of the honour of the gods whom he served so faithfully, sternly reproved the stranger for thus speaking irreverently of the great Immortals; but Jupiter laughingly bade the peasant not to heed the ill-humour of his companion, who was in a strange mood that night.

Philemon, having thus extended a hearty welcome to his unexpected guests, retired to the inner room to help his wife prepare a repast for them; and when he had departed on this hospitable errand, Jupiter began to rally Vulcan on his gloomy looks and sulky temper. But the cross-grained, deformed god was not to be pacified, and declared that he preferred to be left working with his faithful Cyclops in his subterranean forges, where no one dared to poke fun at him for his ill-humours and ugly appearance, and where he was not plagued by the sight of his faithless wife bestowing her bewitching smiles on other admirers.