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 SANTA BARBARA 
 
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 PRESENTED BY 
 
 Miss Marian 0. Hooker 
 
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 • OF 
 
 BY 
 

 
 THADDEUS 
 
 WARSAW. 
 
 Loin d'aimer la guerre, il I'abhorre ; 
 En triomphant mime il cK'plore 
 Les lii'sastres qu'elle produit : 
 Et couronne par la victoire, 
 11 giJmit de sa propre gloire. 
 Si la paix n'en est pas le fruit. 
 
 MISS JANE JPORTER. 
 
 REVISED, CORRECTED, 
 
 AND ILLUSTRATED WITH A NEW INTRODUCTION', NOTES, ETC. 
 
 BV THE AUTHOR. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 HENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY, 
 
 NEW BURLINGTON STREET : 
 
 BELL AND BRADFUTE, EDINBURGH; 
 AND GUMMING, DUBLIN. 
 
 1831.
 
 CRITIQUES ON THIS WORK. 
 
 " Miss Porter has availed herself of a very interesting period 
 in history for the foundation of her tale. Often have we felt 
 our heart rent by indignation and pity, at the dismemberment of 
 Poland and the cruel fate of Stanislaus. Truth and fiction are 
 blended vi'ith much propriety in these Volumes; and we have 
 turned with sincere pleasure to the pages that praise the valour of 
 Kosciuszko ; and recount, though but as a novel, the adventures 
 of Sobieski." — Critical Review, Sept. 1803. 
 
 " Thaddeus is a work of genius, and has nothing to fear at 
 the candid bar of taste : he has to receive the precious meed of 
 sympathy from every reader of unsophisticated sentiment and 
 genuine feeling." — Imperial Review, Feb. 1804.
 
 Pf{ 
 
 n°i 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 SANTA BARBARA COLLEJE LIBRARY 
 
 7 o U ^ 
 
 THE AUTHOR 
 
 HER FRIENDLY READERS, 
 
 Written for the New Edition of " Thaddeus of Warsaw," forming one of the 
 Series called " The Standard Novels." 
 
 Xo such readers alone, who, by the sympathy of a 
 social taste, fall in with any blameless fashion of the day, 
 and, from an amiable interest also in whatever may 
 chance to afford them innocent pleasure, would fain 
 know something more about an author whose works 
 have brought them that gratification, than the cold 
 letter of a mere literary preface usually tells ; to such 
 readers this — something of an egotistical — epistle is 
 addressed. 
 
 For, in beginning the republication of a regular series 
 of the novels, or, as they have been more properly 
 called, biographical romances, of which I have been the 
 author, it has been considered desirable to make certain 
 additions to each work, in the form of a few introduc- 
 tory pages and scattered notes, illustrative of the 
 origin of the tale, of the historical events referred to in 
 it, and of the actually living characters who constitute 
 its personages, with some account also of the really 
 local scenery described; thus giving, it is thought, a 
 A 3
 
 THE AUTHOR TO 
 
 double zest to the entertainment of the reader, by 
 bringing him into a previous acquaintance with the 
 persons he is to meet in the book, and making him 
 agreeably familiar with the country through which he 
 is to travel in their company. Indeed, the social taste 
 of the times has lately fully shown, how advantageous 
 the like conversational disclosures have proved to the 
 recent republications of the celebrated " Waverley 
 Novels," by the chief of novel-writers ; and in the new 
 series of the admirable naval tales, by the distinguished 
 American novelist, who paid to the mother-country the 
 gratifying tribute of making it their birth-place. 
 
 Such evidences in favour of an argument, could not 
 fail to persuade me to undertake the desired elucidating 
 task ; feeling, indeed, particularly pleased to adopt, 
 in my turn, a successful example from the once Great 
 Unknown — now the not less great avowed author of 
 the Waverley Novels, in the person of Sir Walter Scott ; 
 who did me the honour to adopt the style or class of 
 novel of which " Thaddeus of Warsaw " was the first : 
 — a class which, uniting the personages and facts of real 
 history or biography, with a combining and illustrative 
 machinery of the imagination, formed a new species of 
 writing in that day ; and to which Madame de Stael 
 and others have given the appellation of " an epic in 
 prose." The day of its appearance is now pretty far 
 back : for " Thaddeus of Warsaw " (a tale founded on 
 Polish heroism), and the " Scottish Chiefs ' (a romance 
 grounded on Scottish heroism), were both published in 
 England, and translated into various languages abroad, 
 many years before the literary wonder of Scotland 
 gave to the world his transcendent story of Waverley, 
 forming a most impressive historical picture of the last
 
 HER FRIENDLY READERS. VU 
 
 Struggle of the papist, but gallant, branch of the 
 Stuarts for the British throne.* 
 
 " Thaddeus of Warsaw " being the first essay, in the 
 form of such an association between fact and fancy, 
 was published by its author with a natural apprehension 
 of its reception by the critical part of the public. She 
 had not, indeed, written it with any view to publica- 
 tion ; but from an almost resistless impulse to embody 
 the ideas and impressions with which her heart and mind 
 were then full. It was written in her earliest youth ; 
 dictated by a fervent sympathy with calamities which 
 had scarcely ceased to exist, and which her eager pen 
 sought to portray ; and it was given to the world, or 
 rather to those who might feel with her, with all the 
 simple-hearted enthusiasm which saw no impediment 
 when a tale of virtue or of pity was to be told. 
 
 In looking back through the avenue of life to that 
 time, what events have occurred, public and private, 
 to tlie countries, and to the individuals, named in that 
 tale ! to persons of even as lofty names and excellen- 
 cies, of our own and other lands, who were mutually 
 affected with me, in admiration and regret, for the 
 virtues and the sorrows described ! — In sitting down 
 now to my retrospective task, I find myself writing 
 this, my second preface to the story of " Thaddeus of 
 Warsaw," just thirty years from the date of its first 
 publication. Then, I wrote when the struggle for the 
 birth-right independence of Poland was no more ; 
 when she lay in her ashes, and her heroes in their 
 
 * It was on the publication of these, her two first works, in the 
 German language, that the authoress was honoured with being 
 made a lady of the chapter of St. Joachim, and received the gold 
 cross of the order from Wirtemburg. 
 
 A 4
 
 Vlll THE AUTHOR TO 
 
 wounds ; when the pall of death spread over the whole 
 country ; and her widows and her orphans travelled 
 afar. 
 
 In the days of my almost childhood, — that is, eight 
 years before I dipped my pen in their tears, — I remem- 
 ber seeing many of those hapless refugees wandering 
 about St. James's Park. They had sad companions in 
 the like miseries, though from different enemies, in the 
 emigrants from France ; — and memory can never forget 
 the variety of wretched, yet noble-looking, visages 
 I then contemplated, in the daily walks which my 
 mother's own little family-group were accustomed to 
 take there. One person, a gaunt figure, with melan- 
 choly and bravery stamped on his emaciated features, 
 is often present to the recollection of us all. He was 
 clad in a threadbare blue uniform great coat, with a 
 black stock, a rusty old hat, pulled rather over his 
 eyes ; his hands without gloves ; but his aspect was 
 that of a perfect gentleman, and his step that of a mili- 
 tary man. We saw him constantly at one hour, in the 
 middle walk of the Mall, and always alone ; never look- 
 ing to the right nor to the left, but straight on ; with 
 an unmoving countenance, and a pace which told that 
 his thoughts were those of a homeless and a hopeless 
 man — hopeless, at least, of all life might bring him. 
 On, on, he went to the end of the Mall ; turned again, 
 and on again ; and so he continued to do always, as 
 long as we remained spectators of his solitary walk : 
 once, indeed, we saw him crossing into St. Martin's 
 Lane. Nobody seemed to know him, for he spoke to 
 none ; and no person ever addressed him, though many, 
 like ourselves, looked at him, and stopped in the path 
 to gaze after him. We often longed to be rich, to
 
 HER FRIENDLY READERS. IX 
 
 follow him wherever his wretched abode might have 
 been ; and then silently to send comforts to him 
 from hands he knew not of. We used to call him, 
 when speaking of him to ourselves, H Penseroso ; and 
 by that name we yet not unfrequently talk of him to 
 each other, and never without recurrence to the very 
 painful, because unavailing, sympathy we then felt for 
 that apparently friendless man. Such sympathy is, 
 indeed, right ; for it is one of the secondary means by 
 which Providence conducts the stream of his mercies 
 to them who need the succour of their fellow-creatures ; 
 and we cannot doubt that though the agency of such 
 Providence was not to be in our hands, that there were 
 those who had both the will and the power given, and 
 did not, like ourselves, turn and pity that interesting 
 emigrant in vain. 
 
 Some time after this, General Kosciuszko, the justly 
 celebrated hero of Poland, came to England, on his 
 way to the United States ; having been released from 
 his close imprisonment in Russia, and in the noblest 
 manner too, by the Emperor Paul, immediately on his 
 accession to the throne. His arrival caused a great 
 sensation in London ; and many of the first characters 
 of the times pressed forward to pay their respects to 
 such real patriotic virtue in its adversity. An old 
 friend of my family was amongst them ; and whose own 
 warm heart encouraging the enthusiasm of ours, he 
 took my brother Robert to visit the Polish veteran, 
 then lodging at Sabloniere's Hotel, in Leicester Square. 
 My brother, on his return to us, described him as a 
 noble-looking man, though not at all handsome, lying 
 upon a couch in a very enfeebled state, from the effects 
 of numerous wounds he had received in his breast by
 
 X THE AUTHOR TO 
 
 the Cossacs' lances after his fall, having been pre- 
 viously overthrown by a sabre stroke on his head. His 
 voice, in consequence of the induced internal weak- 
 ness, was very low ; and his speaking, always with 
 resting intervals. He wore a black bandage across his 
 forehead, which covered a deep wound there ; and, 
 indeed, his whole figure bore marks of long suffering. 
 
 Our friend introduced my brother to him by name, 
 and as " a boy emulous of seeing and following noble 
 examples." Kosciuszko took him kindly by the hand, 
 and spoke to him words of generous encouragement, 
 in whatever path of virtuous ambition he might take. 
 They never have been forgotten. Is it then to be 
 wondered at, that, combining the mute distress I had 
 so often contemplated in other victims of similar mis- 
 fortunes, with the magnanimous object then described 
 to me by my brother, that the first story of heroism 
 my young imagination should think of embodying into 
 shape, should be founded on the actual scenes of 
 Kosciuszko's sufferings, and moulded out of his 
 virtues ! 
 
 To have made him the ostensible hero of the tale, 
 would have suited neither the modesty of his feelings, 
 nor the humbleness of my OAvn expectation of telling 
 it as I wished. I therefore took a younger, and less 
 pretending agent, in the personification of a descendant 
 of the great John Sobieski. 
 
 But it was, as I have already said, some years after 
 tlie partition of Poland, that I wrote, and gave for pub- 
 lication, my historical romance on that catastrophe. It 
 was finished amid a circle of friends well calculated to 
 fan the flame which had inspired its commencement, 
 some of the leading heroes of the British army just
 
 IIEn FIUENDLY READERS. Xl 
 
 returned from the victorious fields of Alexandria and 
 St. Jean d' Acre; — and, seated in my brother's little 
 study, with the war-dyed coat in which the veteran 
 Abercrombie breathed his last grateful sigh, while, 
 like Wolfe, he gazed on the boasted invincible standard 
 of the enemy, brought to him by a British soldier, — 
 with this trophy of our own native valour on one side 
 of me, and on the other the bullet-torn vest of another 
 English commander of as many battles, — but who, 
 having survived to enjoy his fame, I do not name here, 
 — I put my last strokes to the first campaigns of Thad- 
 deus Sobieski. 
 
 When the work was finished, some of the persons 
 near me urged its being published. But I argued, in 
 opposition to the wish, its different construction to all 
 other novels or romances Avhich had gone before it ; 
 from Richardson's time-honoured domestic novels, to 
 the penetrating feeling in similar scenes by the pen of 
 Henry Mackenzie ; and again, Charlotte Smith's more 
 recent, elegant, but very sentimental love stories. But 
 the most formidable of all were the wildly interesting 
 romances of Anne Radclifie, whose indeed magical 
 wand of wonders and mysteries was then the ruling 
 style of the day. I urged, how could any one expect 
 that the admiring readers of such works, could con- 
 sider my simply told biographical legend of Poland, 
 any thing better than a dull union between real history 
 and a matter-of-fact imagination ? 
 
 Arguments w^ere found to answer all this ; and being 
 excited by the feelings which had dictated my lit.tle 
 work, and encouraged by the corresponding characters 
 with whom I daily associated, I ventured the essay. 
 However, I had not read the sage romances of our
 
 XU THE AUTHOR TO 
 
 elder times, without turning to some account the 
 lessons they taught to adventurous personages of either 
 sex ; showing that even the boldest knight never made 
 a new sally without consecrating his shield with some 
 impress of acknowledged reverence. In like manner, 
 when I entered the field with my modern romance of 
 Thaddeus of Warsaw, I inscribed the first page with 
 the name of the hero of Acre. That dedication will be 
 found, through all its successive editions, still in front 
 of the title-page ; and immediately following it is a 
 second inscription, added, in after years, to the 
 memory of the magnanimous patriot and exemplary 
 man, Thaddeus Kosciuszko, who had first filled me 
 with ambition to write the tale, and who died in 
 Switzerland, A. D. 1817, fuller of glory than of years. 
 Yet, if life be measured by its vicissitudes and its 
 virtues, we may justly say, " he was gathered in his 
 ripeness." 
 
 After his visit to old friends in the United States, — 
 where, in his youth, he had learned the art of war, and 
 the science of a noble, unselfish independence, from 
 the marvel of modern times. General Washington, — 
 Kosciuszko returned to Europe, and abode awhile in 
 France ; but not in its capital : he lived deeply retired ; 
 gradually restoring his shattered frame to some degree 
 of health, by the peace of a resigned mind, and the 
 occupation of rural employments. Circumstances led 
 him to Switzerland ; and the country of William Tell, 
 and of simple Christian fellowship, could not but soon 
 be found peculiarly congenial to his spirit, long turned 
 away from the pageants and the pomp of this world. 
 In his span, he had had all, either in his grasp, or prof- 
 fered to him. For when nothing remained of all his
 
 HER FRIENDLY READERS. Xlll 
 
 military glory and his patriotic sacrifices, but a yet ex- 
 isting fame, and a conscious sense within him of duty 
 performed, he was content to " eat his crust " with 
 tliat inheritance alone ; and he refused, though with an 
 answering magnanimity of acknowledgment, a valuable 
 property offered to him by the Emperor of Russia, as a 
 free gift fi-om a generous enemy, esteeming his proved, 
 disinterested virtues. He also declined the yet more 
 dazzling present of a crown, from the then master of 
 tlie continent, who would have set him on the throne 
 of Poland — but, of a truth, under the vassalage of the 
 Emperor of the French I Kosciuszko was not to be 
 consoled for Poland, by riches bestowed on himself; nor 
 betrayed into compromising her birthright of national 
 independence, by the casuistry that would have made 
 his parental sceptre the instrument of a foreign domi- 
 nation. 
 
 Having such a theme as his name, and the heroes 
 his co-patriots, the romance of " Thaddeus of Warsaw " 
 was no sooner published than it overcame the novelty 
 of its construction, and became universally popular. 
 Nor was it very long before it fell into General Kos- 
 ciuszko's hands, though then in a distant land ; and he 
 kindly, and promptly, lost no time in letting the author 
 know his approbation of the narrative, but qualified 
 with several modest expressions respecting himself. 
 From that period she enjoyed many treasured marks 
 of his esteem ; and she will add, though with a sad 
 satisfaction, that, amongst her several relics of the Great 
 Departed who have honoured her with regard, she pos- 
 sesses, most dearly prized, a medal of Kosciuszko, and a 
 lock of his hair. About the same time she received a 
 most incontestable proof of the accuracy of her story,
 
 XlV THE AUTHOR TO 
 
 from the lips of General Gardiner, the last British 
 minister to the court of Stanislaus Augustus. On his 
 reading the book, he was so sure that the facts it re- 
 presented could only have been learned on the spot, 
 that he expressed his surprise to several persons, that 
 the author of the work, an English lady, could have 
 been at Warsaw during all the troubles there, and he 
 not know it. On his repeating this observation to the 
 late Duke of Roxburgh, his grace's sister-in-law, who 
 happened to overhear what was said, and knew the 
 writer, answered him by saying, " The author had never 
 been in Poland," — " Impossible ! " replied the general ; 
 " no one could describe the scenes and occurrences 
 there, in the manner it is done in that book, without 
 having been an eye-witness." The lady, however, 
 convinced the general of the fact being otherwise, by 
 assuring him, from her own personal knowledge, that 
 the author of " Thaddeus of Warsaw " was a mere 
 school-girl in England at the time of the events of the 
 story. 
 
 How then, it has often been asked, did she obtain 
 such accurate information with regard to those events ? 
 and how acquire her familiar acquaintance with the 
 places and persons she represents in the work? The 
 answer is short. By close questioning every person 
 who came in her way, that knew any thing about the 
 object of her interest ; and there were many brave 
 hearts, and indignant lips, ready to open with the sad 
 yet noble tale. Thus every illustrious individual she 
 wished to bring into her narrative gradually grew upon 
 her knowledge, till she became as well acquainted with 
 all her desired personages as if they were actually 
 present with her ; for she knew their minds and their
 
 HER FKIEXDLY READERS. XV 
 
 actions ; and those compose the man. The features of 
 the country, also, were learned from persons who had 
 trodden the spots she describes : and that they were 
 indeed correct pictures of their homes and war-fields, 
 the tears and bursting enthusiasm of many of Poland's 
 long expatriated sons, have more than once borne testi- 
 mony to her. 
 
 As one instance, out of the number I might repeat, 
 of the inextinguishable love of those noble wanderers 
 for their native country, I shall subjoin the copy of a 
 letter addressed to me by one of these gallant men, 
 then holding a high military post in a foreign service; 
 and who, I afterwards learned, is of the family of Kos- 
 ciuszko, whose portrait he sent to me : for the letter 
 was accompanied with a curiously wrought ring of pure 
 gold, containing a likeness of that hero. The letter 
 was in French, and I transcribe it literally in the words 
 of the writer : — 
 
 " Madame! 
 
 " Un inconnu ose adresser la parole a I'auteur im- 
 mortel de Thaddeus de Warscnv ; attache par tant de 
 liens a I'heros que vous avez chante, je m'enhardis a 
 distraire pour un moment vos nobles veilles. 
 
 " Qu'il me soit permis de vous ofFrir, madame, riiom- 
 mage de mon admiration la plus exaltee, en vous pre- 
 sentant la bague qui contient le buste du General Kos- 
 ciuszko: — elle a servi de signe de ralliment aux patriots 
 Polonois, lorsque, en ITOt, ils entrepresent de secouer 
 leur joug. 
 
 " Les anciens deposoient leurs offrandes sur fautel 
 de leurs divinites tutelaires;— je ne fais qu'imiter leur 
 exemple. Vous etes pour tons les Polonois cette divi-
 
 XVI THE AUTHOR TO HER FRIENDLY READERS. 
 
 nite, qui la premiere ait elevee sa voix, du fond de 
 I'imperiale Albion, en leur faveur. 
 
 " Un jour viendra, et j'ose conserver dans mon cceur 
 cet espoir, que vos accens, qui ont retenti dans le cceur 
 de I'Europe sensible, produiront leur efFet celestial, en 
 ressuscitant I'ombre sanglante de ma chere patrie. 
 
 " Daignez agreer, madame, I'hommage respectueuse 
 d'un de vos serviteurs le plus devoue, 
 
 " &c. &c." 
 
 Probably the writer of the above is now returned to 
 his country, his vows having been most awfully 
 answered by one of the most momentous struggles she 
 has ever had, or to which the nations around have ever 
 yet stood as spectators ; for the balance of Europe 
 trembles at the turning of her scale. 
 
 Thus, then, it cannot but be, that in the conclusion 
 of this my, perhaps, last introductory preface to any 
 new edition of "Thaddeus of Warsaw," its author should 
 offer up a sincerely heai'tfelt prayer to the King of 
 Kings, the Almighty Father of all mankind, that 
 His all-gracious Spirit may watch over the issue of 
 this contest, and dictate the peace of Poland I 
 
 Esher, May, 1831.
 
 Dedication to the First Edition. 
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW 
 
 IS INSCKIBED TO 
 
 SIR SIDNEY SMITH; 
 
 IN THE HOPE THAT, AS 
 
 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY 
 
 DID NOT DISDAIN TO WRITE A ROMANCE, 
 
 SIR SIDNEY SMITH 
 
 WILL NOT REFUSE TO READ ONE. 
 
 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY CONSIGNED HIS EXCELLENT WORK, TO THE 
 AFFECTION OF A SISTER, 
 
 I, CONFIDE MY ASPIRING ATTEMPT, TO THE 
 
 URBANITY OF THE BRAVE ; TO THE MAN OF TASTE, 
 
 OF FEELING, AND OF CANDOUR J 
 
 TO HIM, WHOSE FRIENDSHIP WILL BESTOW 
 
 THAT INDULGENCE ON THE AUTHOR, WHICH HIS JUDGMENT 
 
 MIGHT HAVE DENIED TO THE BOOK ; 
 
 TO HIM, OF WHOM FUTURE AGES WILL SPEAK WITH HONOUR, 
 AND THE PRESENT TIMES BOAST AS THEIR GLORY ! 
 
 TO 
 
 SIR SIDNEY SMITH, 
 
 I SUBMIT THIS HUMBLE TRIBUTE OF THE HIGHEST RESPECT, 
 
 WHICH CAN BE OFFERED BY A BRITON, 
 
 OR ANIMATE THE HEART OF 
 
 HIS SINCERE FRIEND, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 a
 
 A subseqtient Inscription. 
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 TUE 
 
 TENTH EDITION 
 
 IS HUMBLY AND AFFECTIONATELY 
 
 INSCRIBED BY ITS AUTHOR, 
 
 TO THE MEMORY 
 
 OF THE LATE 
 
 GENERAL THADDEUS KOSCIUSZKO. 
 
 One view, in the original design of this work, having 
 been to draw a distinguishing hne between the spirit 
 of patriotism, and that of ambitious public disturbance ; 
 between the disinterested brave man, and a military 
 plunderer'; between true glory, which arises from bene- 
 fits bestowed, and the false fame which a captain of 
 banditti has as much right to arrogate as the invader of 
 kingdoms; to exhibit this radical difference between the 
 hero and the mere soldier of fortune, the character of 
 General Kosciuszko presented itself as the completest 
 a 2
 
 XX DEDICATION. 
 
 existing exemplar for such a picture. Enthusiasm sup- 
 plied the pencil of adequate genius. Though the written 
 portraiture be imperfectly sketched, yet its author has 
 been gratified by the sympathy of readers, not only of 
 her own country, but of that of her hero. The work 
 having gone through so many editions, proves that she 
 did not aspire quite in vain ; and the principles of 
 heroic virtue, which she sought to inculcate in her story 
 of Poland, having been pronounced by the great patriot 
 of Poland as not unworthy his approbation, seems, now 
 that he is removed from all earthly influences, to sanction 
 her paying that tribute to his memory, which delicacy 
 forbade during his life. 
 
 The first publicatioz^ of this work was inscribed to a 
 British hero, whose noble nature well desei'ves the title 
 bestowed upon it by his venerable sovereign — Cceur 
 de Lion. He fully appreciated the character of Thad- 
 deus Kosciuszko ; and the author of this sketch feels 
 that she deepens the tints of honour on each name by 
 thus associating them together. May the tomb of the 
 British hero be long of finding its place! That of Kosci- 
 uszko has already received its sacred deposit ; and, with 
 emotions far from a stranger's heart, this poor offering 
 is laid on the grave of him who fought for freedom under 
 the banner of a patriot King ; who, when riches and a 
 crown were proffered to himself, declined both, because 
 no price could buy the independence of an honest man I 
 Such was General Kosciuszko ! — Such was the model 
 of disinterestedness, valour, and of public virtue, which
 
 DEDICATION. XXi 
 
 I set before me in these pages ! — Such was the man 
 Avho honoured the writer of them with his esteem ; and 
 in that one word, she feels a sufficient privilege to de- 
 dicate, with humble and affectionate devotion, these 
 few inadequate pages to his memory ! — daring to catch 
 at some memorial of herself in after-times, by thus 
 uniting to the name of Thaddeus Kosciuszko, that of 
 his ever grateful 
 
 JANE PORTER. 
 
 Long Ditton, 
 Sept. 4. 1819.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 THE FIRST EDITION OF THIS WORK. 
 
 Having attempted a work of Four Volumes, it is natural 
 that the consideration of so much time and thought as 
 must have been spent in its execution, should occasion to the 
 Author some anxiety respecting its fate ; therefore, before 
 the Reader favours the tale itself Avith his attention^ I beg 
 leave to offer him an account of its design. 
 
 Observing the mistakes which my young contemporaries 
 make in their estimates of character and of life ; how 
 much they require that the difference between certain 
 splendid vices, and the brilliant order of virtues, should be 
 distinctly marked ; with perhaps a too daring hand^, I here 
 venture to sketch the sacred line. 
 
 Wishing to portray a character which prosperity could 
 not inflate^ nor adversity depress, I chose Magnanimity as 
 the subject of my story. I found the original of my por- 
 trait in Poland. — There is a powerful ray of the Almighty, 
 in truly great minds : it bums with equal splendour in 
 prosperity, and in adversity ; its purity, as well as its ar- 
 dour, declares its divine origin. — This is the talisman of 
 those achievements, which amaze every one but their ac- 
 complisher. — Wlien the eye is fixed on Heaven, '' Ossa 
 seems a wart." 
 
 W^hat flattered Alexander into a madman, and degraded 
 the high-souled Cssar into a tyrant, I have selected as the 
 first ordeal of Thaddeus Sobieski. — Placed at the summit 
 of mortal ambition, surrounded with greatness and glory, 
 he shows neither pride nor vanity. And when^ in the 
 progress of his second trial, he is plunged into the depths 
 of sorrow ; the weakness of passion, never sinks the chg- 
 nity of his fortitude, neither does the firmness of that vir- 
 tue, blunt the amiable sensibility of his heart.
 
 XXll PREFACE. 
 
 This being the aim to which every incident in the story 
 ought to tendj it became necessary to station my hero 
 amidst scenes, where events might probably arise that were 
 proper to excite his valour and generosity, and to put his 
 moderation to the test. — Poland seemed the country best 
 calculated to promote my intention. Her struggles for in- 
 dependence, and her misfortunes, afforded me situations 
 exactly fitted to my plan : — and, preferring a series of in- 
 cidents, which are true and interesting, before a legend of 
 war fabricated by my own hand, I have made no hesi- 
 tation to accept truth as the helpmate of fiction. 
 
 I have now described my plan ; if it be disapproved, let 
 the Work be neglected : but, should the Reader be so can- 
 did as to wish to proceed, I must beg him to peruse the 
 whole of the First volume. Aware that war and poUtics 
 are not promising subjects of amusement, it is requisite to 
 assure liim that he needs not to be alarmed at its battles ; 
 they are neither frequent, nor do they last long : and, I 
 request him, not to pass over any scene as extraneous, 
 which, though it begin like a state-paper or a sermon, 
 always terminates by casting some new light on the portrait 
 of the hero. — As the three remaining volumes are totally 
 confined to domestic events, they have none of these pre- 
 judices to encounter ; but if the Reader do not approach 
 them regularly through all the developement of character 
 opened in the First volume, what they exhibit will seem a 
 mere wilderness of incidents, without interest or end.-— 
 Indeed, I have designed nothing in the personages of this 
 story beyond the sphere of Uving evidence. I have sketched 
 no virtue that I have not seen, nor painted any foUy from 
 imagination. I have endeavoured to be as faithful to re.« 
 ahty in my pictures of domestic morals, and of heroic life, 
 as a just painter would be to the existing and engaging 
 objects of nature ; and, on these grounds, I have attempted 
 steadily to inculcate, " That virtue is the highest proof of 
 understanding, and the only solid basis of greatness ; and 
 that vice is the natural consequence of narrow thoughts ; 
 which begin in mistake, and end in ignominy." 
 
 J. P. 
 London, J SOS.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The large and magnificent palace of Villanow^ whose vast 
 domains stretch along the northern bank of the Vistula^, 
 was the favourite residence of John Sobieski^, King of 
 Poland. That monarchy after having delivered his country 
 from innumerable enemies^ rescued A'ienna^ and subdued 
 the Turks, retired to this place at certain seasons, and 
 thence dispensed those acts of his luminous and benevolent 
 mind, which rendered his name great and his people happy. 
 
 "When Charles the Twelfth of Sweden visited the tomb 
 of Sobieski, at Cracow, he exclaimed, " "What a pity that 
 so great a man should ever die !"* Another generation 
 saw the spirit of this lamented hero revive in the person of 
 his descendant, Constantine, Count Sobieski ; who, in a 
 comparatively private station, as Palatine of INIasovia, and 
 the friend, rather than the lord, of his vassals, evinced by 
 his actions that he was the inheritor of his forefather's 
 virtue, as well as of his b'.ood. 
 
 He was the first Polish nobleman who granted freedom 
 to his peasants. He threw down their mud hovels and 
 built comfortable villages ; he furnished them with seed, 
 cattle, and implements of husbandry ; and calling their 
 families together, laid before them the deed of their en- 
 
 * In the year 16S.$, this hero raised the siege of Vienna, then beleaguered by 
 the Turks ; and driving them out of Europe, saved Christendom from a Jlaho- 
 metan usurpation. 
 
 B
 
 Z THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 franchisement : but^ before he signed it^ he expressed a 
 fear that they would abuse this liberty, of which they had 
 not had experience, and become licentious. 
 
 " No," returned a venerable peasant ; " when we pos- 
 sessed no other property than the staffs which we hold in 
 our hands, we were destitute of all worldly motive for 
 discreet conduct : not having any thing to lose, we acted on 
 too many occasions in an intemperate manner. But now 
 that the fruits of our labours are absolutely our own, the 
 care of protecting them will be a sufficient restraint upon 
 our actions." 
 
 The good sense and truth of this answer were manifested 
 in the event. On the emancipation of these people, they 
 became so prosperous in business, and correct in behaviour, 
 that the example of the palatine was speedily followed by 
 several of the principal nobility. The king's reforming 
 spirit moved in unison with that of Sobieski ; and a con- 
 stitution was given to Poland, to place her in the first rank 
 of free nations. 
 
 Encircled by his happy tenantry, and within the bosom 
 of his family, this illustrious man educated Thaddeus, the 
 only male heir of his name, to the exercise of all the virtues 
 which ennoble and endear the possessor. 
 
 But this reign of public and domestic peace was not to 
 continue. A formidable, and apparently friendly, state 
 envied the effects of a patriotism it would not imitate ; and 
 in the beginning of the year 1792, regardless of existing 
 treaties, broke in upon the unguarded frontiers of Poland ; 
 threatening, with all the horrors of a merciless war, the 
 properties, lives, and liberty of the people. 
 
 The family of Sobieski had ever been foremost in the 
 ranks of their country ; and at the present crisis, its vene- 
 rable head did not hang behind the youngest warrior in 
 preparations for the field. 
 
 On the evening of an anniversary of the birth-day of 
 his grandson, the palatine rode abroad with a party of 
 friends who had been celebrating the festival with their 
 presence. The countess his daughter, and Thaddens, were 
 left alone in the saloon. She sighed as she gazed on her 
 son, who stood at some distance, fitting to his youthful thigh
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 6 
 
 a variety of sabres^ which his servant, a little time before, 
 had laid upon the table. She observed with anxiety the 
 eagerness of his motion, and the ardour that was flashing 
 from his eyes. 
 
 '' Thaddeus," said she, '' lay down that sword ; I wish 
 to speak with you." Thaddeus looked gaily up. "^ j\Iy 
 dear Thaddeus ! " cried his mother, and tears started to her 
 eyes. The blush of enthusiasm faded from his face ; he 
 threw the sabre from him, and drew near the countess. 
 
 " ^Vhy, my dear mother, do you distress yourself? 
 "VVTien 1 am in battle, shall I not have my grandfather 
 near me ; and be as much under the protection of God as 
 at this moment ?" 
 
 " Yes, my child," answered she, '^' God will protect 
 you. lie is the protector of the orphan, and you are 
 fathei'less." The countess paused — " Here, my son," said 
 she, giving him a sealed packet, "^ take this ; it will reveal 
 to you the history of your birth, and the name of your 
 father. It is necessary that you should know the truth, 
 and all the goodness of your grandfather." Thaddeus re- 
 ceived it, and stood silent with surprise. " Read it, my love," 
 continued she, ^' but go to your own apartments ; here you 
 may be interrupted." 
 
 Bewildered by the manner of the countess, Thaddeus, 
 without answering, instantly obeyed. Shutting himself 
 within his study, he impatiently opened the papers ; and 
 soon found his whole attention absorbed in the following 
 recital : — 
 
 ^' To my dear Son, Thaddens Consfantine Sobie.sla. 
 
 " You are now, my Thaddeus ! at the early age of 
 nineteen, going to engage the enemies of your country. 
 Ere I resign my greatest comfort to the casualties of war, 
 ere I part Avith you, perhaps for ever, I would inform you 
 who your father really was — that father whose existence 
 you have hardly known, and whose name you have never 
 heard. You believe yourself an orphan ; your mother a 
 widow : but, alas ! I have now to tell you, that you were 
 made fatherless by the cruelty of man, not by the dispens- 
 ation of heaven. 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THADDEVS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " Twenty years ago I accompanied my father in a tour 
 through Germany into Italy. Grief for the death of my 
 mother had impaired his health ; and the physicians ordered 
 him to reside in a warmer climate: accordingly we fixed 
 ourselves near the Arno. During several visits to Florence, 
 my father met, in that city, with a young Englishman of 
 the name of Sackville. These frequent meetings opened 
 into intimacy, and he was invited to our house. 
 
 " i\Ir. Sackville Avas not only the handsomest man I had 
 ever beheld, but the most accomplished; and his heart 
 seemed the seat of every graceful feeling. He was the 
 first man for whose society I felt a lively preference. I 
 used to smile at this strange delight, or sometimes weep ; 
 for the emotions which agitated me were undefinable : but 
 they were enchanting ; and unheedingly I gave them in- 
 dulgence. The hours which we passed together in the 
 interchange of reciprocal sentiments ; the kind beaming of 
 his looks ; the thousand sighs that he breathed ; the half- 
 uttered sentences ; all conspired to rob me of myself. 
 
 " Eight months were spent in these delusions. — During 
 the last three, doubts and anguish displaced the blissful 
 reveries of an infant tenderness. The attentions of Mr. 
 Sackville died away. From being the object of his constant 
 search, he now sedulously sought to avoid me. "\^^hen my 
 father withdrew to his closet, he would take his leave, and 
 allow me to walk alone. Solitary and wretched were my 
 rambles. I had full leisure to compare my then disturbed 
 state of mind with the comparative peace I had enjoyed in 
 my own country. Imm.ured within the palace of Villanow, 
 watching the declining health of my mother, I knew nothing 
 of the real world ; the little I had learned of society being 
 drawn from books, and uncorrected by experience, I was 
 taught to believe a perfection in man, which, to my affliction, 
 I since found to be but a poet's dream. "When I came to 
 Italy, I continued averse to public company. In such 
 seclusion, the presence of Sackville, being almost my only 
 jileasure, chased from my mind its usual reserve ; and 
 gradually, and surely, won upon the awakened affections of 
 my heart. Artless and unwarned, I knev/ not the nature
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 5 
 
 of the passion which I cherished, until it had gained an 
 ascendancy that menaced my Hfe. 
 
 " On the evening of one of those days in which I had 
 not seen this too dearly-beloved friend, I strolled out, and, 
 hartUy conscious of my actions, threw myself along the 
 summit of a flight of steins that led down to the Arno. 
 My head rested against the base of a statue, which, because 
 of its resemblance to me, Sackville had presented to my 
 father. Every recollected kindness of his now gave me 
 additional torment ; and, clinging to the pedestal, as to the 
 altar of my adoration, in the bitterness of disappointment, 
 I addressed the insensible stone : ' O ! were I pale as thou 
 art, and this breast as cold and still, would Sackville, wdien 
 he looked on me, give one sigh to the creature he had 
 destroyed?' INIy sobs followed this adjuration, and the 
 next moment I felt myself encircled in his arms. I 
 struggled, and, almost fainting, begged to be released. He 
 did release me, and, falling on his knees, implored my 
 pardon for the misery which I had endured. ' Now, 
 Therese,' cried he, ' all is as it ought to be ! you are my 
 only hope. Consent to be mine, or the world has no hold 
 on me !' His voice was hurried and incoherent. — Raising 
 my eyes to his, I beheld them wild and bloodshot. Terrified 
 at his look, and overcome by my own emotions, my head 
 sunk on the marble, "\rith increased violence, he exclaimed, 
 ' Have I deceived myself here too } Therese, did you not 
 prefer me .'' Did you not love me ? — Speak now, I conjure 
 you, by your own happiness and mine ! Do you reject 
 me .''' He clenched my hands with a force that made me 
 tremble, and I hardly articulated, ' I will be yours.' At 
 these words he hurried me down a dark vista, which led 
 out of the gardens to the open country. A carriage stood 
 at the gate. I fearfully asked what lie intended. ' You 
 have given yourself to me,' cried he; ' and by that vow, 
 written in Heaven, no power shall separate us until you are 
 mine beyond the reach of man ! ' Unnerved in body, and 
 weak in mind, I yielded to his impetuosity; and, suffering 
 him to lift me into the chariot, was carried to the door of 
 the nearest monastery, where in a few minutes we were 
 married.
 
 6 
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " I am thus particular in the relation of every incident, 
 in the hope that you, my dear son, will see some excuse for 
 my great imprudence, — in the circumstances of my youth, 
 and in the influence which a man who seemed all excel- 
 lence had gained over my heai't. HoAvever, my fault went 
 not long unpunished. 
 
 " The ceremony passed, my husband conducted me in 
 silence back to the carriage. My full bosom discharged 
 itself in abundance of tears, while Sackville sat by me, 
 unmoved and mute. Two or three times 1 raised my eyes, 
 in hopes of discerning in his some consolation for my hasty 
 compliance. But no ; his gaze, vacant and glaring, was 
 fixed on the window ; and his brow scowled, as if he had 
 been forced into an alliance with one he hated, rather than 
 had just made a voluntary engagement Avith the Avoman he 
 loved. My soul shuddered at this commencement of a 
 contract which I had dared to make unsanctioned by my 
 father's consent. At length my sighs seemed to startle my 
 husband ; and, turning suddenly round, ' Therese,' cried 
 he, ' this marriage must not be told to the palatine.' — I de- 
 manded a reason for so unexpected a prohibition. ' Because 
 I have been precipitate. It would ruin me with my family. 
 'A\''ait, only for one month ; and then I will publicly ac- 
 knowledge you.' The agitation of his features, the stern- 
 ness of his voice, and the feverish burning of his hand, 
 which held mine, alarmed me. Trembling from head to 
 foot, I answered, ' Sackville ! I have already erred enough 
 in consenting to this stolen marriage. I will not transgress 
 further, by concealing it. I will instantly throAV myself at 
 my father's feet, and confess all.' His countenance dark- 
 ened. ' Therese,' said he, ' I am your husband. You have 
 SAVorn to obey me, and I command your silence. Till I 
 alloAV you, divulge this marriage at your peril.' This last 
 cruel sentence, and the more cruel look that accompanied 
 it, pierced me to the heart, and I fell senseless on the seat. 
 
 " V^hen I recovered, I found myself at the foot of that 
 statue beneath which my unfortunate destiny had been 
 fixed. My husband was leaning over me. He raised me 
 with tenderness from the ground ; and conjured me, in the 
 mildest accents, to be comforted ; to pardon the severity of
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. J 
 
 those words which had arisen from a fear tliat, hy an im- 
 prudent avowal on my part, I should risk both his happiness 
 and my own. He informed me that lie was heir to one of 
 the first fortunes in Enj^land ; he had pledged his honour 
 with his father never to enter into any matrimonial engage- 
 ment, without first acquainting him with the particulars of 
 the lady and her family. Should he omit this duty, his 
 father declared, that though she were a princess, he would 
 disinherit him, and never again admit him to his presence. 
 
 " ' Consider this, my dear Therese,' continued he ; ' could 
 you endure to behold me a beggar, and stigmati ed with a 
 parent's curse, when a little forbearance on your part would 
 make all right ? I know I have been hasty in acting as I 
 have done, but now I cannot remedy my error. To-morrow 
 I will write to my father, describe your rank and merits, 
 and request his consent to our immediate marriage. The 
 moment his permission arrives, I will cast myself on the 
 palatine's friendship and reveal what has passed.' The 
 tenderness of my husband blinded my reason ; and with 
 many tears, 1 sealed his forgiveness^ and pledged my faith 
 on his word. 
 
 " My dear deceived parent little suspected the perfidy of 
 his guest. He detained him as his visitor ; and often rallied 
 himself on the hold which his distinguished accomplish- 
 ments had taken on his esteem. Sackville's manner to me 
 in public was obliging and free ; it was in private only that 
 I found the tender, the capricious, the unfeeling husband. 
 Night after night I have washed the memory of my want 
 of duty to my father with bitter tears ; but my husband 
 was dear to me, was more precious than my life : one kind 
 look from him, one fond word, would solace every pain, and 
 make me wait the arrival of his father's letter with all the 
 gay anticipations of youth and love. 
 
 " A fortnight passed away. A month, a long and linger- 
 ing month. Another month, and a packet of letters was 
 presented to Sackville. He was at breakfast with us. At 
 sight of the superscription he coloured, tore open the paper, 
 ran his eyes over a few lines, and then, pale and trembling, 
 rose from his seat and left the room. My emotions were 
 almost uncQjitroUable. I had already half risen from my 
 B 4
 
 8 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 eliair to follow him, when the palatine exclaimed, ' What 
 can be in that letter? Too plainly I see some afflicting 
 tidings/ And without observing me, or waiting for a reply, 
 he hurried out after him. I stole to my chamber, where, 
 throwing myself on my bed, I tried, by all the delusions of 
 hope, to obtain some alleviation from the pangs of suspense. 
 
 " The dinner bell roused me from my reverie. Dreading 
 to excite suspicion, and anxious to read in the countenance 
 of my husband the denunciation of our fate, I obeyed the 
 summons, and descended to the dining-room. On entering 
 it, my eyes irresistibly wandered round to fix themselves on 
 Sackville. He was leaning against a piUar, his face pale 
 as death. My father looked grave, but immediately took 
 his seat, and tenderly placed his friend beside him. I sat 
 down in silence. Little dinner was eaten, and few words 
 spoken. — As for myself, my agitations almost choked me. 
 I felt that the first word I should attempt to pronounce must 
 give them utterance, and that their vehemence would betray 
 our fatal secret. 
 
 " When the servants withdrew, Sackville rose, and taking 
 my father's hand, said, in a faltering voice, ' Count, I must 
 leave you.' — '^ It is a wet evening,' replied the palatine; 
 'you are unwell — disturbed — stay tiU to-morrow!' — '1 
 thank your excellency,' answered he, 'but I must go to 
 Florence to-night. You shall see me again before to-morrow 
 afternoon : aU will then, I hope, be settled to my wish.' 
 Sackville took his hat. Motionless, and incapable of speak- 
 ing, I sat fixed to my chair, in the direct way that he must 
 pass. His eye met mine. He stopped, and looked at me, 
 abruptly caught my hand ; then as abruptly quitting it, 
 darted out of the room. I never saw him more. 
 
 " I had not the power to dissemble another moment. I 
 fell back, weeping, into the arms of my father. He did not, 
 even by this imi)rudence, read what I almost wished him to 
 guess ; but, with all the indulgence of perfect confidence, 
 lamented tlie distress of Sackville, and the sensibihty of my 
 nature, which sympathised so painfully with his friend. I 
 durst not ask what was the distress of his friend ; abashed 
 at my duplicity to him, and overwhelmed with a thousand 
 dreads, I obtained his permission to retire to my chamber.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSA\r. 9 
 
 " The next day I met him with a serene air, for I had 
 schooled my heart to endure the sufferings it had deserved. 
 The palatine did not remark my recovered tranquillity; 
 neither did he appear to think any more of my tears; so 
 entirely was he occupied in conjecturing the cause of Sack- 
 ville's grief, who had acknowledged having received a great 
 shock, but would not reveal the occasion. This ignorance 
 of my father surjjrised me; and to all his suppositions I said 
 little. My soul was too deeply interested in the subject to 
 trust to the faithfulness of my lips. 
 
 '' The morning crept slowly on, and the noon appeared 
 to stand still. I anxiously watched the declining sun, as 
 the signal for my husband's return. Two hours had elapsed 
 since his promised time, and my father grew so imj)atient 
 that he went out to meet him. I eagerly wished that they 
 might miss each other. I should then see Sackville a few 
 minutes alone, and by one word be comforted or driven to 
 despair. 
 
 " I was listening to every footstep that sounded under the 
 colonnade, when my servant brought me a letter which had 
 just been left by one of Mr. Sackville's grooms. I tore 
 open the seal ; and fell senseless on the floor, ere 1 had read 
 half the killing contents — " 
 
 Thaddeus, with a burning cheek, and a heart all at once 
 robbed of that elastic spring Avhich till now had ever made 
 him the happiest of the happy, took up the letter of his fa- 
 ther. The paper was worn, and blistered with his mother's 
 tears. His head seemed to swim as he contemplated the 
 handwriting, and he said to himself, " Am I to respect or 
 to abhor him ? " He proceeded in the perusal. 
 
 " To Therese, Countess Sobieski. 
 
 " How, Therese, am I to address you } But an attempt 
 at palliating my conduct would be to no purpose, indeed it 
 is impossible. You cannot conceive a viler opinion of me 
 than I have of myself. I know that I forfeit all claim to 
 honour ; that I have sacrificed your tenderness to my dis- 
 tracted passions : but you shall no more be subject to the 
 caprices of a man who cannot repay your love with his
 
 JO THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 own. — Toil have no guilt to torture you; and you possess 
 virtues which will render you tranquil under every calamity. 
 I leave you to your own innocence. Forget the ceremony 
 which has passed between us : my wretched heart disclaims 
 it for ever. Your father is happily ignorant of it ; pray 
 spare him the anguish of knowing that I was so completely 
 unworthy of his kindness ; I feel that I am more than un- 
 grateful to you and to him. Therese, your most inveterate 
 hate cannot more strongly tell me, than I tell myself, that 
 I have treated you like a villain. But I cannot retract. I 
 am going where all search will be vain ; and I now bid 
 you an eternal farewell. May you be happier than ever can 
 be the wretched, self-abhorring 
 
 '' Florence, " R. S ." 
 
 Thaddeus went on with his mother's narrative. 
 
 " When my senses returned I was lying on the ground, 
 holding the half-perused paper in my hand. Grief and 
 horror locked up the avenues of complaint, and I sat as 
 one petrified to stone. My father entered. At the sight 
 of me, he started as if he had seen a spectre. His well- 
 known features opened at once my agonised heart. With 
 fearful cries I cast myself at his feet, and putting the 
 letter into his hand, clung, almost expiring, to his knees. 
 
 " When he had read it, he flung it from him, and drop- 
 ping into a chair, covered his face with his hands. I 
 looked up imploringly, for I could not speak. INIy father 
 stooped forward, and raising me in his arms, pressed me to 
 his bosom. * My Therese,' said he, ' it is I who have done 
 this. Had I not harboured this villain, he never could 
 have had an opportunity of ruining the peace of my child.' 
 In return for the unexampled indulgence of this speech, 
 and his repeated assurances of forgiveness, I promised to 
 forget a man who could have so little respect for gratitude, 
 or his own honour. The palatine replied, that he expected 
 such a resolution, in consequence of the principles which 
 he had taught me ; and to show me how far dearer to him 
 was my real tranquillity tiian any false idea of impossible 
 restitution, he would not remove even from one prin- 
 cipality to another, were he sure by that means to discover
 
 THADDEUS op WARSAW. II 
 
 Mr. Sackville, and to avenge my wrongs. My understand- 
 ing assented to the justice of all his reasoning ; but long 
 and severe were the struggles before I could erase from 
 my soul the image of that being who had been the lord of 
 all its joys and sorrows. 
 
 " It was not until you, my dear Thaddeus, were born 
 that I could repay the goodness of my father with the 
 smiles of cheerfulness. — He would not permit me to give 
 you any name which could remind him^ or myself, of the 
 cruel parent who gave you being ; and by his desire I 
 christened you ThadJcus Constantine, after himself, and 
 his best-beloved friend General Kosciuszko. — You have 
 not yet seen that illustrious Polander, whose prescient 
 watchfulness for his country has always kept him on the 
 frontiers. He is now with the army at AMnnica, whither 
 you must soon go : in him you will see a second Sobieski. 
 In him you may study one of the brightest models of pa- 
 triotic and martial virtue that ever was presented to man- 
 kind. It may well be said of him, — ' That he would have 
 shone with distinguished lustre in the ages of chivalry.' 
 Gallant, generous, and strictly just, he commands obedi- 
 ence by the reverence in which he is held, and attaches 
 the troops to his person by the affability of his manners 
 and the purity of his life. He teaches them discipline, 
 endurance of fatigue, and contempt of danger, by his 
 dauntless example ; and inspires them with confidence, by 
 his tranquillity in the tumult of action, and the invincible 
 fortitude with which he meets the most adverse strokes of 
 misfortune. His modesty in victory shows him to be one 
 of the greatest among men ; and his magnanimity under 
 defeat confirms him to be little less than a god. 
 
 " Such is the man whose name you bear : how bitterly 
 do I lament that the one to which nature gave you a claim, 
 was so unworthy to be united with it, and that of my no 
 less heroic father ! — 
 
 " On our return to Poland, the story which the palatine 
 related, when questioned about my apparently forlorn state, 
 was simply this: — 'My daughter was married, and 
 widowed in the course of two months. — Since then, to 
 root from her memory as much as possible all recollection
 
 12 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 of a husband who was only given to be taken away, she 
 still retains my name ; and her son, as my sole heir, shall 
 bear no other.' This reply satisfied every one : the king, 
 who was my father's only confidant, gave his sanction to 
 it, and no further enquiries were started. 
 
 " You are now, my beloved child, entering on the event- 
 ful career of life. God only knows, when the venerable 
 head of your grandfather is laid in dust, and I, too, have 
 shut my eyes upon you for ever, where destiny may send 
 you ! perhaps to the country of your father. Should you 
 ever meet him — but that is unlikely ; so I will be silent 
 on a subject which nineteen years of reflection have not 
 yet deprived of its sting. 
 
 " Not to embitter the fresh spring of your youth, my 
 Thaddeus, with the draught that has poisoned mine ; not 
 to implant in your breast hatred of a parent whom you 
 may never behold, have I written this ; but to inform you 
 in fact from whom you sprung. My history is made plain 
 to you, that no unexpected events may hereafter perplex 
 your opinion of your mother, or cause a blush to rise on 
 that cheek for her, which from your grandfather can derive 
 no stain. For his sake as well as for mine, whether in 
 peace or in war, may the angels of Heaven guard my boy ! 
 This is the unceasing prayer of thy fond mother, 
 
 " Thekese, Countess Sobieski. 
 '' rUlanow, March, 1792." 
 
 When he finished reading, Thaddeus held the papers in 
 his hand ; but, unable to recover from the shock of their 
 contents, he read them a second time to the end : then 
 laying them on the table, against which he rested his now 
 aching head, he gave vent to the fulness of his heart. 
 
 The countess, anxious for the effect which her history 
 might have on her son, at this instant entered the room. 
 Seeing him in so dejected an attitude, she approached, and 
 pressing him to her bosom, mingled her tears with his. 
 Thaddeus, ashamed of his emotions, yet incapable of (hs- 
 serabling them, struggled a few moments to release himself 
 from her arms. The countess, mistaking his motive, said 
 in a melancholy voice, " And do you, my son, despise your
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 13 
 
 mother for the weakness which she has revealed? Is tliis 
 the reception that I expected from a chihl, on whose affec- 
 tion I reposed my confidence and my comfort?" 
 
 " No, my mother," rcpHed Thaddeus ; " it is your afflic- 
 tions which liave distressed me. This is the first unhappy 
 hour I ever knew, and can you wonder I shoukl be affected ? 
 Oh ! mother," continued he, laying his hand on his father's 
 letter, " wdiatever were his rank, had my fatlier been but 
 noble in mind, I Avould have gloried in bearing his name ; 
 but now, I put up my prayers never to hear it more." 
 
 " Forget him," cried the Countess, hiding her eyes with 
 her handkerchief. 
 
 " I will !" answered Thaddeus, "and allow my memory 
 to dwell only on the virtues of my mother." 
 
 It was impossible for the countess, or her son, to conceal 
 their agitation from the palatine, who now opened the door. 
 On his expressing alarm at a sight so unusual, his daughter, 
 finding herself incapable of speaking, put into his hand the 
 letter which Thaddeus had just read. Sobieski cast his eye 
 over the first lines ; he comprehended their tendency, and 
 seeing the countess had Avithdrawn, he looked towards his 
 grandson. Thaddeus was walking up and down the room, 
 striving to command himself for the conversation he an- 
 ticipated with his grandfather. 
 
 " I am sorry, Tliaddeus," said Sobieski, " that your 
 mother has so abruptly imparted to you the real name and 
 character of your father. I see that his villany has dis- 
 tressed a heart which heaven has made alive to the slightest 
 dishonour. But be consoled, my son ! I have })revented 
 the publicity of his conduct, by an ambiguous story of your 
 mother's widowhood. Notwithstanding this arrangement, 
 she judged it proper that you should not enter general 
 society Avithout being made acquainted with the true events 
 of your birth. I believe my daughter is right. But cheer 
 yourself, my child ! you will embitter the remainder of my 
 days, if you suffer the vices of a worthless man to prey 
 upon your mind." 
 
 " No, my lord," answered his grandson ; " you have been 
 more than a parent to me ; and henceforward, for your sake 
 as well as my own, I shall hold it my duty to forget that
 
 14 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 I drew my being from any other source than that of the 
 house of Sobieski." 
 
 " You are right," cried the palatine, with an exulting 
 emotion, " you have the spirit of your ancestors ; and I 
 shall live to see you add glory to the name ! " 
 
 The beaming eyes and smiling lips of the young count 
 declared that he had shaken sorrow from his heart. His 
 grandfather pressed his hand with delight ; and saw in his 
 recovered serenity the sure promise of his fond jirophecy. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The fearful day arrived when Sobieski and his grandson 
 were to bid adieu to Villanow and its peaceful scenes. 
 
 The well-poised mind of the veteran bade his daughter 
 farew"ell with a fortitude which imparted some of its 
 strength even to her. But when Thaddeus, ready habited 
 for his journey, entered the room, at the sight of his 
 military accoutrements she shudtlered ; and Avhen, with a 
 glowing countenance, he advanced, smiling tln-ough his tears, 
 towards her, she clasped him in her arms, and riveted her 
 lips to that face, the very loveliness of which added to her 
 affliction. She gazed at him, she wept on his neck, she 
 pressed him to her bosom. " O ! how soon might all that 
 beauty be mingled with the dust ! how soon might that 
 warm heart, which then beat against hers, be pierced by 
 the swoi'd ! be laid on the ground, mangled and bleeding, 
 exposed, and trampled on !" These thoughts thronged 
 upon her soul, and deprived her of sense. She was carried 
 away lifeless by her maids, while the palatine compelled 
 Thaddeus to quit the spot. ^ 
 
 It was not until the lofty battlements of Villanow blended 
 with the clouds, that Thaddeus could throw off his melan- 
 choly. The parting agony of his mother hung on his spirits ; 
 and heavy and frequent were his sighs as he gazed on the 
 rustic cottages and fertile fields, which reminded him tliat 
 he was yet passing through the territories of his grand-
 
 THADDEUS OP WAnSAU-, 15 
 
 father. The picturesque mill of Mariemont was the last 
 spot on which his si<;]it lingered. The ivy that mantled 
 its sides, sparkled with the brightness of a shower which had 
 just fallen ; and the rays of the setting sun, gleaming on 
 its shattered wall, made it an oliject of such romnatic 
 beauty, that he could not help pointing it out to his fellow- 
 travellers. 
 
 Whilst the eyes of General Butzou, who was in the 
 carriage, followed the direction of Thaddeus, the palatine 
 observed the heightening animation of his features; and 
 recollecting at the same time the transports which he 
 himself had enjoyed, when he visited that place one-and- 
 twenty years ago, he put his hand on the shoulder of the 
 veteran, and exclaimed, " General, did you ever relate to 
 my boy the particulars of that mill .'' " 
 
 " No, my lord.' 
 
 " I suppose," continued the palatine, " the same reasori 
 deterred you from speaking of it uncalled for as lessened 
 my wish to tell the ' story ? We are both too much the 
 heroes of the tale to have volunteered the recital." 
 
 " Does your excellency mean," asked Thaddeus, " the 
 rescue of our king from this place .^ " 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " I have a very indistinct knowledge of the affair. I 
 remember that it was told me many years ago ; but I have 
 almost forgotten it ; and can only account for my apparent 
 insensibility in never having enquired further, by pleading 
 the happy thoughtlessness in which you have hitherto per- 
 mitted me to live." 
 
 " But," said the palatine, whose object was to draw his 
 grandson from melancholy reflections, " what will you say 
 to me turning egotist ? " 
 
 " I now ask the story of you," returned Thaddeus, 
 smiling ; " besides, as soldiers are permitted by the fire- 
 side to ' fiylit their battles oer again' your modesty, my 
 dear grandfather, cannot object to repeat it to me on the 
 way to more." 
 
 " As a preliminary," said the palatine, " I must suppose 
 it is unnecessary to tell you that General Butzou was the
 
 l6 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 brave soldier who, at the imminent risk of his Hfe, saved 
 our sovereign." 
 
 " Of course, I know that," replied the young count ; 
 " and that you, too, had a share in the honour : for when 
 I was yesterday presented to his majesty, amongst other 
 things which he said, he told me, that he believed, under 
 Heaven, he owed his present existence to General Butzou 
 and yourself." 
 
 " So very little to me," resumed Sobieski, " that I will, 
 to the best of my recollection, repeat every circumstance of 
 the affair. Should I err, I must beg of you, general," 
 turning to the veteran, " to put me right." 
 
 Butzou, with a glow of honest exultation still painting 
 his face, nodded assent ; and Thaddeus bowing in sign of 
 attention, the palatine began. 
 
 " It was on a Sunday night, the 3d of September, in 
 the year 1771^ that this event took place. At that time, 
 instigated by the courts of Vienna and Constantinople, a 
 band of traitorous lords, confederated together, were laying 
 waste their country, and perpetrating all kinds of outrage 
 on their felloAV-subjects who adhered to the king. 
 
 " Amongst their numerous crimes, a plan was laid for 
 surprising and taking the royal person. Pulaski was one 
 of the most daring of their leaders ; and, assisted by Lu- 
 kawski, Strawenski, and Kosiriski, three Poles unworthy of 
 their rank, he resolved to accomplish this design or perish. 
 Accordingly, the three latter, in obedience to his orders, 
 with forty other conspirators, met at Czetschokow, and, in 
 the presence of their commander, swore with the most 
 horrid oaths to deliver Stanislaus, alive or dead, into his 
 hands. 
 
 " About a month after this meeting, these noblemen, at 
 the head of a band of assassins, disguised themselves as 
 peasants ; and concealing their arms in waggons of hay, 
 which they drove before them, they entered AVarsaw un- 
 suspected. 
 
 "It was about ten o'clock p.m., on the 3d of September, 
 as I have told you, that they found an opportunity to 
 execute their scheme. They placed themselves under cover 
 of the night in those avenues of the city through which
 
 TIIADDEUS or WARSAW. 17 
 
 they knew his majesty must pass in his way from Villanow, 
 where he had been diiiinj^ with me. His carriage was 
 escorted by four of his own attendants, with myself and 
 twelve of my guards. A\'e had scarcely lost sight of Vil- 
 lanow when the conspirators rushed out and surrounded us, 
 connnanding the coachmen to stop, and beating down the 
 men with the butt end of their musquets. Several shot 
 were fired into the coach. One j)assed through my hat, as I 
 was getting out sword in hand, the better to repel an attack 
 the motive of which I could not divine. A cut across my 
 right leg with a sabre laid me under the wheels ; and whilst 
 in that situation, I heard the shot pouring into the coach 
 like hail, and felt the villains stepping over my body to 
 finish the murder of the king. 
 
 " It was then that our friend Butzou (who at that period 
 was a private soldier in my service) stood between his sove- 
 reign and the rebels. In one instant he received several balls 
 through his limbs, and a thrust from a bayonet in his 
 breast, which cast him weltering in his blood upon me. 
 By this time all the persons who had formed the escort 
 were either wounded or dispersed ; and George Butzou, 
 our friend's only brother, was slain ; the last defender of 
 our trodden bodies, and of his outraged king. Secure then 
 of their prey, one of the assassins opened the carriage door, 
 and with shocking imprecations, seizing the king by the 
 hair, discharged his pistol so near his majesty's face that 
 he felt the heat of the flash. A second villain cut him on 
 the forehead with a sword ; whilst a third, who was on 
 horseback, laying hold of his collar, dragged him along the 
 ground through the suburbs of the city. 
 
 " During the latter part of this outi'ageous scene, some 
 of our affrighted people returned Avith a detachment, and 
 seeing Butzou and me apparently lifeless, carried us to the 
 royal ])alace, where all was commotion and distraction. The 
 foot guards followed the track which the conspirators had 
 taken. In one of the streets they found the king's hat 
 dyed in blood, and his pelisse perfectly reticulated with 
 bullet holes. This confirmed their apprehensions of his 
 death ; and they came back, filling all ^\'arsaw with dismay. 
 
 " The assassins, raeanwliile, got clear of tlie town. 
 

 
 18 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 Findings however, that the king, by loss of blood, was not 
 likely to exist much longer, if they continued their manner 
 of dragging him towards their employer, and that delay 
 might even lose them his dead body, they mounted him, 
 and redoubled their speed. W^hen they came to the moat 
 which surrounds Warsaw, they compelled him to leap his 
 horse across it. In the attempt the horse fell, and broke 
 its leg. They then ordered his majesty, fainting as he 
 was, to mount another and spur it over. The conspirators 
 had no sooner passed the ditch, and saw their king fall in- 
 sensible on the neck of his horse, than they tore from his 
 breast the riband of the black eagle, and its diamond cross. 
 Lukawski was so foolishly sure of his prisoner, dead or 
 alive, that, he quitted his charge, and repaired with these 
 spoils to Pulaski ; meaning to show them as proofs of his 
 success. Many of the other plunderers, concluding that 
 they could not do better than follow their leader's example, 
 fled also ; and left only seven of the party, with Kosinski 
 at their head, to remain over the unfortunate Stanislaus, 
 who shortly after recovered from his swoon. 
 
 " The night was now grown so dark, they could not be 
 sure of their way ; and their horses stumbling at every 
 step over stumps of trees and hollows in the earth, in- 
 creased their apprehensions to such a degree, that they 
 obliged the king to keep up with them on foot. He lite- 
 rally marked his path with his blood ; his shoes having 
 been torn off in the struggle at the carriage. Thus they 
 continued wandering backwards and forwards, and round 
 the outskirts of Warsaw, without any exact knoAvledge of 
 their situation. The men who guarded him, at last became 
 so afraid of their prisoner's taking advantage of these cir- 
 cumstances to escape, that they repeatedly called on Ko- 
 sinski for orders to put him to death. Kosinski refused ; 
 but their demands growing more imperious, as the intri- 
 cacies of the forest involved them completely, the king 
 expected every moment to find their bayonets in his breast. 
 
 'When I recovered from my swoon, my leg was bound 
 up, and I was able to stir. Questioning the officers who 
 stood about my couch, I fouiul that a general panic had 
 seized them. They knew not how to proceed ; they shud-
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 19 
 
 dered at leaving the king to the mercy of the confederates ; 
 and yet were fearful, by pursuing liini farther, to incense 
 them througli terror or revenge to massacre their })risoner, 
 if he were still alive. I did all that was in my power to 
 dispjl this last dread. Anxious at any rate to make aviother 
 attemj)t to preserve him, though I could not ride myself, 
 I strenuously advised an immediate pursuit on horseback ; 
 and insisted that neither darkness nor danger should be 
 permitted to impede their course. Recovered presence of 
 mind in the nobles, restored hope and animation to the ter- 
 rified soldiers ; and my orders were obeyed. But I must 
 add, they were soon disappointed ; for in less than half an 
 hour the detachment returned in despair, showing me his 
 majesty's coat, which they had found in the fosse. I sup- 
 pose the ruffians tore it off when they rifled him. It was 
 rent in several places, and so wet with blood, that the 
 officer who presented it to me thought they had mur- 
 dered the king there, and had drawn away his body ; for 
 by the light of the torches, the soldiers could trace drops 
 of blood to a considerable distance. 
 
 " Whilst I was attempting to invalidate this new evi- 
 dence of his majesty's being beyond the reach of succour 
 or of insult, he was driven before the seven conspirators so 
 far into the wood of Bielany that, not knowing whither 
 they went, they came up with one of the guard-houses, and, 
 to their extreme terror, were accosted by a patrol. Four 
 of the banditti immediately disappeared, leaving two only 
 with Kosinski ; who, much alarmed, forced his prisoner to 
 walk faster and keep a profound silence. Notwithstanding 
 all this precaution, scarce a quarter of an hour afterwards 
 they were challenged by a second watch ; and the other two 
 men taking to flight, Kosinski, full of dismay, was left alone 
 with the king. His majesty, sinking with pain and fatigue, 
 besecched permission to rest for a moment ; but Kosinski 
 refused, and pointing his sword towards the king, compelled 
 him to proceed. 
 
 " As they walked on, the unfortunate Stanislaus, who 
 
 was hardly able to drag one limb after the other, observed 
 
 that his conductor gradually forgot his vigilance, until he 
 
 was thoroughly given up to thought. The king conceived 
 
 c 2
 
 20 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 some hope from this cliange, and ventured to say, ' I see 
 that you know not how to proceed. You cannot but be 
 aware that the enterprise in which you are engaged, however 
 it may end, is full of peril to you. Successful conspirators 
 are ah\ays jealous of each other : Pulaski will find it as 
 easy to rid himself of your life, as it is to take mine. 
 Avoid that danger ; and I will promise you none on my 
 account. Suffer me to enter the convent of Bielany ; we 
 cannot be far from it ; and then, do you provide for your 
 own safety.' Kosinski, rendered desperate by the circum- 
 stances in which he was involved, replied, ' No ; I have 
 sworn ; and I would rather sacrifice my life than my 
 honour." 
 
 " The king had neither strength nor spirits to make an 
 answer. They continued to break their way through the 
 underwood, until they approached Mariemont. Here Stanis- 
 laus, unable to stir another step, sunk down at the foot of 
 the old yew-tree, and again implored for one moment's rest. 
 Kosinski no longer refused. This unexpected humanity 
 encouraged his majesty to employ the minutes they sat 
 together, in another attempt to soften his heart ; and to 
 convince him, that the oath which he had taken was atro- 
 cious, and by no means binding to a brave and virtuous 
 man. 
 
 " Kosinski heard him with attention, and even showed 
 he was affected. ' But,' said he, ' if I should assent to 
 what you propose, and reconduct you to Warsaw, what 
 will be the consequence to me ? I shall be taken and ex- 
 ecuted.' — ' I give you my word,' answered the king, 'that 
 you shall not suffer any injury. But if you doubt my 
 honour, escape while you can. I shall find some place of 
 shelter, and will direct your pursuers to take the opposite 
 road to that which you may choose.' Kosinski, entirely 
 overcome, threw himself on his knees before his majesty; 
 and, imploring pardon for what he had done, swore, that 
 from this hour he would defend his king against all the con- 
 spirators, and would trust confidently in his word for future 
 preservation. Stanislaus repeated his promise of forgiveness 
 and protection, and directed him to seek refuge for them 
 both in the mill near which they were discoursing. Ko-
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 21 
 
 sinski obeyed, and knocked; but no one gave answer. lie 
 then broke a pane of glass in the wiiulow, and through it 
 begged succour for a nobleman who had been waylaid by 
 robbers. The miller refused to come out, or to let them in; 
 telling them it was his belief that they were robbers them- 
 selves, and if they did not go away he would fire on them. 
 
 "■ This dispute had continued for nearly an hour, when 
 the king contrived to crawl up close to the windows, and 
 said, ' i\Iy good friend, if we were banditti, as you suppose, 
 it would be as easy for us, without all this parley, to break 
 into your house, as to break this pane of glass ; therefore, if 
 you would not incur the shame of suffering a fellow-creature 
 to perish for want of assistance, give us admittance.' This 
 argument had its weight with the man ; and opening the 
 door, he desired them to enter. After some trouble, his 
 majesty procured pen and ink ; and addressing a few lines 
 to me at the palace, with difficulty prevailed on one of the 
 miller's sons to carry it, so fearful Avere they of falling in 
 with any of the troop, who, they understood, had plundered 
 their guests. 
 
 " JMy joy at sight of this note I cannot describe. I well 
 remember the contents ; they were literally these: — 
 
 " ' By the miraculous hand of Providence I have escaped 
 from the hands of assassins. I am now at the mill of j\la- 
 riemont. Send innnediately, and take me hence. I am 
 wounded, but not dangerously.' 
 
 " Regardless of my own condition, I instantly got into a 
 carriage, and, followed by a detachment of horse, arrived at 
 the mill. I met Kosinski at the door, keeping guard with 
 his sword drawn. As he knew my person, he admitted me 
 directly. The king had fidlen into a sleep, and lay in one 
 corner of the hovel on the ground, covered with the miller's 
 cloak. To see the most virtuous monarch in the world 
 thus abused by his ungrateful subjects, pierced me to the 
 heart ; and kneeling down by his side, I took hold of his 
 hand, and in a paroxysm of tears, which I am not ashamed 
 to confess, I exclaimed, ' I thank thee. Almighty God, that 
 I again see my sovereign alive !' It is not easy to say how 
 these words struck the simple family. They dropped on 
 their knees before the king, whom my voice had awakened, 
 c 3
 
 22 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 and beseeched his pardon for all their ill-manners. The good 
 Stanislaus soon quieted their fears ; and graciously thanking 
 them for their kindness, told the miller to come to the palace 
 the next day, when he would show him his gratitude in a 
 better way than by promises. 
 
 " The officers of the detachment then assisted his majesty 
 and myself into the carriage, and, accompanied by Kosinski, 
 we reached Warsaw about six in the morning." 
 
 "■ Yes," interrupted Butzou, " I remember my tumul- 
 tuous joy when the news was brought to me, in my bed, that 
 my brave brother had not died in vain for his sovereign ; it 
 almost deprived me of my senses: — and besides, his ma- 
 jesty visited me, his poor soldier, in my chamber. Does not 
 your excellency recollect how he was brought into my room 
 in a chair, between two men } and how he thanked me, and 
 shook hands with me } and he told me my brother should 
 never be forgotten in Poland. It made me weep like a 
 child." 
 
 "' And he never can ! " cried Thaddeus, hardly recovering 
 from the deep attention with which he had listened to this 
 recital.* " But what became of Kosinski } I suppose the 
 king kept his word." 
 
 " He did indeed," replied Sobieski ; " his word is at all 
 times sacred. Yet I believe Kosinski entertained fears that 
 he would not be so generous ; for I perceived him change 
 colour very often while we were in the coach. However, 
 he was tranquillised when his majesty, on alighting at the 
 palace in the midst of the joyous cries of the people, leaned 
 upon his arm, and presented him to the populace as his pre- 
 server. The great gate was ordered to be left open ; and 
 never, whilst I live, shall I again behold such a scene ! 
 Every soul in Warsaw, from the highest to the lowest, came 
 to catch a glimpse of their rescued sovereign. Seeing the 
 doors free, they entered without ceremony, and thronged 
 
 * The king had his Iiravp defender buried with military honours, and caused 
 a noble monument to be raised over him, with an inscription, of which the fol- 
 lowing is a translation : — 
 
 " Here lie the respected remains of George Rutzou ; who, on the 3d of 
 September, 1771, o)ij)osing hi< own breast to shiiUl Stanislaus from the weapons 
 of national parricides, was ))ierced with a mortal wiiunii, and glorjously expired. 
 The king, lamenting the death of a faithful subject, erects this monument as a 
 tribute to him, and an example of heroic duty to others."
 
 THADDEUS OF WAUSAW. 23 
 
 forwards in crowds to get near enougli to kiss his hand, or 
 to touch his clothes ; then, elated with joy, they turned to 
 Kosinski, and loaded him with demonstrations of gratitude, 
 calling him the ' Saviour of their king." Kosinski bore all 
 this with surprising firmness ; but in a day or two, when 
 the facts became known, he guessed he might meet with 
 different treatment from the people, and therefore petitioned 
 his majesty for leave to depart. Stanislaus consented ; and 
 he retired to Semigallia, where he now lives, on a handsome 
 pension from the king." 
 
 " Generous Stanislaus !" exclaimed the general; "^ you 
 see, my dear ypung count, how he has rewarded me for 
 doing that which was merely my duty. He put it at my 
 option to become what I pleased about his person, or to 
 hold what rank I liked in the army. Love ennobles servi- 
 tude ; and, attached as I have ever been to your family, 
 under wliom all my ancestors have lived and fought, I 
 vowed in my own mind never to quit it ; and accordingly, 
 begged permission of my sovereign to remain with the 
 Count Sobieski. I did remain : but see," cried he, his - 
 voice faltering, " what my benefactors have made of me ! 
 I command those troops, amongst whom it was once my 
 greatest glory to be a private soldier." 
 
 Thaddeus pressed the hand of the veteran between both 
 his ; and regarded him with respect and affection, whilst 
 the grateful old man wiped away a tear from his face.* 
 
 " How happy ought it to make you, my son," observed 
 Sobieski, " that you are called tut to support such a sove- 
 reign ! He is not merely a king whom you follow to 
 battle because he will lead you to honour : the hearts of 
 his people acknowledge him in a superior light ; they look 
 on him as their patriarchal head ; as a being delegated by 
 God to study what is their greatest good ; to bestow it ; 
 and, when it is attacked, to defend it. To preserve the 
 life of such a so\ ereign, who would not sacrifice his own ?" 
 
 " Yes," cried Butzou ; " and how ought we to abhor 
 
 * I.iikowski and Strawenski were aftorw.irds both taken, witli otlicrs of the 
 conspirators. At the King's entreaty, those of inferior rank were pardonert after 
 condemnation ; but the two noblemen wlio had deluded them, were beheaded. 
 Pulaski, the prime ring-lcarier, escaped, to the wretched life of an outlaw and 
 an exile, and finally died in America, in 1779. 
 C 4
 
 24 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 them Avho threaten his life ! How ought we to estimate 
 those crowned heads who^ under the mask of amity, have, 
 from the year sixty-four, when he ascended the throne, 
 until now, been plotting his overthrow or death ! Either 
 calamity, O Heaven, avert ! For his death, I fear, will 
 be a prelude to the certain ruin of our country ! " 
 
 " Not so," interrupted Thaddeus, with eagerness ; " not 
 whilst a Polander has power to lift an arm, shall it be 
 quite lost." 
 
 Butzou applauded his spirit, and was warmly seconded 
 by the palatine, who (never weary of infusing into every 
 feeling of his grandson an interest for his country) pur- 
 sued the discourse, and dwelt minutely on the happy 
 tendency of the glorious constitution of I79I5 hi defence 
 of which they were now going to hazard their lives. As 
 Sobieski pointed out its several excellencies, and expatiated 
 oji the pure spirit of freedom Avhich animated its laws, the 
 soul of Thaddeus followed his eloquence ; and, with the 
 unrestrained fervour of youth, he branded the names of 
 Catherine and the faithless Frederick with some of those 
 epithets which posterity will affix to them for ever. 
 During these conversations Thaddeus forgot his regrets ; 
 and at noon, on the third day, he saw his grandfather put 
 himself at the head of his men, and commence a regular 
 inarch. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The little army of the palatine passed by the battlements 
 of Chelm ; crossed the Bug into the plains of Volhinia ; 
 and impatiently counted the leagues over those vast tracts, 
 until it reached the borders of Kiovia. 
 
 ^Vhcn the column at the head of Avhich Thaddeus was 
 stationed descended the heights of Lininy, and the broad 
 camp of his countrymen burst upon his sight, his heart 
 lieaved with an emotion quite new to him. He beheld 
 with admiration the regular disposition of the intrench-
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 25 
 
 ments, the long intersected streets, and the warlike apjiear- 
 ance of the soldiers, whom he could descry, even at that 
 distance, hy the beams of a bright evening sun which shone 
 upon their arms. 
 
 In half an hour his troops descended into the plain, 
 where, meeting those of the palatine and the general, the 
 three columns again united ; and Thaddeus joined his 
 grandfather in the van. 
 
 " INIy lord," cried he, as they met, '' can I behold such 
 a sight, and despair of the freedom of Poland !" 
 
 Sobieski made no reply ; but giving him one of those 
 expressive looks of approbation, which innnediately makes 
 its way to the soul, commanded the troops to advance with 
 greater speed. In a few minutes they reached the out- 
 works of the camp, and entered the lines. The eager eye 
 of Thaddeus wandered from object to object. Thrilling 
 Avith that delight with which youth beholds wonders, and 
 anticipates more, he stopped with the rest of the party 
 before a tent, which General Butzou informed him be- 
 longed to the commander-in-chief. They were met in the 
 vestibule by an hussar officer of a most commanding 
 appearance. Sobieski and he having accosted each other 
 with mutual congratulations, the palatine turned to Thad- 
 deus, took him by the hand, and presenting him to his 
 friend, said with a smile, 
 
 " Here, my dear Kosciuszko, this young man is my 
 grandson ; he is called Thaddeus Sobieski ; and I trust 
 that he will not disgrace either of our names !" 
 
 Kosciuszko embraced the young count, and, with a 
 hearty pressin^e of his hand, replied, " Thaddeus ! if you 
 resemble your grandfather, you can never forget, that the 
 only king of Poland who equalled Stanislaus was a So- 
 bieski ; and, as becomes his descendant, you will not spare 
 your best blood in the service of your country." 
 
 As Kosciuszko finished speaking, an aid-de-camp came 
 forward to lead the party into the room of audience. 
 Prince Poniatowski welcomed the palatine and his suite 
 with the most lively expressions of pleasure. He gave 
 Thaddeus, whose figure and manner instantly charmed 
 him, many flattering assurances of friendship ; and pro-
 
 S6 
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 mised that he would appoint him to the first post of ho- 
 nour which should offer. After detaining the palatine and 
 his grandson half an hour, his highness withdrew ; and 
 they rejoined Kosciuszko, who conducted them to the 
 quarter where the Masovian soldiers had already pitched 
 their tents. 
 
 The officers who supped with Sohieski left him at an 
 early hour, that he might retire to rest ; but Thaddeus 
 was neither able nor inclined to benefit by their consider- 
 ation. He laid himself on the bed, shut his eyes, and tried 
 to sleep ; but the attempt was without success. In vain he 
 turned from side to side ; in vain he attempted to restrict 
 his thoughts to one thing at once : his imagination was so 
 roused by anticipating the scenes in which he was to become 
 an actor, that he found it impossible even to lie still. His 
 spirits being quite awake, he determined to rise, and to 
 walk himself drowsy. 
 
 Seeing his grandfather sound asleep, he got up and 
 dressed himself quietly ; then stealing gently from the 
 marquee, he gave the word in a low whisper to the guard 
 at the door, and proceeded down the lines. The pitying 
 moon seemed to stand in the heavens, watching the awaking 
 of those heroes who the next day might sleep to rise no 
 more. At another time, and in another mood, such might 
 have been his reflections ; but now he pursued his walk 
 with different thoughts: no meditations but those of plea- 
 sure possessed his breast. He looked on the moon with 
 transport : he beheld the light of that beautiful planet, 
 trailing its long stream of glory across the entrenchments. 
 He perceived a solitary candle here and there, glimmering 
 through the curtained entrance of the tents ; and thought 
 that their inmates were probably longing, with the same 
 anxiety as himself, for the morning's dawn. 
 
 Thaddeus walked slowly on ; sometimes pausing at the 
 lonely footfall of the centinel, or answering with a start to 
 the sudden challenge for the parole ; tlien lingering at the 
 door of some of these canvass dwellings, he offered up 
 a prayer for the brave inhabitant, who, like himself, had 
 quitted the endearments of home to expose his life on this 
 spot, a bulwark of liberty. Thaddeus knew not what it
 
 TIIADDEl'S OF WARSAW. 27 
 
 was to be a soldier by profession ; lie had no idea of makirg 
 war a trade, by which a man is at any rate to acquire sub- 
 sistence and wealth : he had but one motive for appearing 
 in the field, and one for leaving it, — to repel invasion, and 
 to establish peace. The first energy of his mind was a 
 desire to assert the rights of his country : it had been in- 
 culcated into him when an infant ; it had been the subject 
 of his morning thoughts and nightly dreams ; it was now 
 the passion which beat in every artery of his heart ; yet he 
 knew no honour in slaughter ; his glory lay in defence ; 
 and, when that was accomplished, his sword would return 
 to its scabbard, unstained by the blood of a vanquished or 
 an invaded people. On these principles, he was at this 
 hour full of enthusiasm : a glow of triumph flitted over 
 his cheek, for he had left the indulgences of his mother's 
 palace, had left her maternal arms, to take upon him the 
 toils of war, and risk an existence just blown into enjoy- 
 ment. A noble satisfaction rose in his mind ; and with all 
 the animation which an inexperienced and raised fancy 
 imparts to that age when boyhood breaks into man, his 
 soul grasped at every show of creation with the confidence 
 of belief. Pressing the sabre which he held in his hand 
 to his lips, he half uttered, " Never shall this sword leave 
 my arm, but at the command of mercy, or when death 
 deprives my nerves of their strength." 
 
 Morning was tinging the hills which bound the eastern 
 horizon of M^innica, before Thaddeus found that his pelisse 
 was wet with dew, and that he ought to return to his tent. 
 Hardly had he laid his head upon the pillow, and ' lulled 
 his senses in forgetf illness,' when he was disturbed by the 
 drum beating to arms. He opened his eyes ; and seeing 
 the palatine out of bed, he sprung from his own, and 
 eagerly enquired the cause of the alarm. 
 
 " Only follow me directly," answered his grandfather, 
 and quitted the tent. 
 
 A\'hilst Thaddeus was putting on his clothes, and buckling 
 on his arms with a trembling eagerness which almost defeated 
 his haste, an aid-de-camp of the prince entered. He 
 brought information that an advanced guard of the Russians 
 had attacked a Polish out-post, under the command of Co-
 
 28 TH ADDED S OF WARSAW. 
 
 lonel Lomza ; and that his highness had ordered a detach- 
 ment from the palatine's brigade to march to its relief. 
 Before Thaddeus could reply, Sobieski sent to apprise his 
 grandson, that the prince had appointed him to accompany 
 the troops which were turning out to assist the colonel. 
 
 Thaddeus heard this message with delight : yet fearful 
 in what manner the event might answer the expectations 
 which this wished distinction declared, he issued from his 
 tent like a youthful Mars, — or rather like the Spartan Isadas, 
 trembling at the dazzlingeffects of his temerity, — and hiding 
 his valour and his blushes beneath the waving plumes of 
 his helmet. Kosciuszko, who was to head the party, ob- 
 served this modesty with pleasure, and shaking him warmly 
 by the hand, ^' Go, Thaddeus," said he, " take your station 
 on the left flank ; I shall require your fresh spirits to lead 
 the charge I intend it to make, and to ensure its success." 
 Thaddeus bowed to these encouraging words, and took his 
 place according to order. 
 
 Every thing being ready, the detachment quitted the 
 camp ; and dashing through the dews of a sweet morning 
 (for it was yet May), in a few hours arrived in view of the 
 Russian battalions. Lomza, who, from the only redoubt 
 now in his possession, caught a glimpse of this welcome 
 reinforcement, rallied his few remaining men, and by the 
 time that Kosciuszko came up, contrived to join him in the 
 van. The fight re-commenced. Thaddeus at the head of 
 his hussars, in full gallop, bore down upon the enemy. 
 They received the charge with firmness ; but their young 
 adversary, perceiving that extraordinary means were ne- 
 cessary, exerted his voice to the utmost ; calling on his 
 men to follow him, he put spurs to his horse, and rushed 
 into the thickest of the battle. His soldiers did not shrink : 
 they pressed on, mowing down the foremost ranks ; whilst 
 he, by a lucky stroke of his sabre, disabled the sword-arm 
 of the Russian standard-bearer, and seized the colours. 
 His own troops seeing the standard in his hand, with one 
 accord, in loud and repeated cries, shouted victory. The 
 reserve of the enemy alarmed at this outcry, instantly gave 
 way ; and retreating with precipitation, was soon followed 
 by the rear ranks of the centre, where Kosciuszko had
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW, 29 
 
 already slain the coniniaiuler of the attack. The flanks 
 next gave ground ; and after holding a short stand at in- 
 tervals, at length fairly turned about^ and fled, panic-struck, 
 across the country. 
 
 The conquerors, elated with so sudden a success, put 
 their horses on full speed ; and, without order or attention, 
 pursued the fugitives, until they were lost amidst the trees 
 of a distant wood. Kosciuszko called on his men to stop ; 
 but he called in vain : they continued their career, animating 
 each other, and with redoubled shouts drowned the voice 
 of Thaddeus, who was galloping forwards, repeating the 
 command. At the entrance of the wood they were stopped 
 by a few stragglers, who had formed themselves into a body. 
 These men withstood the first onset of the Poles Avith con- 
 siderable steadiness ; but, after a short skirmish, they fled a 
 second time, and took refuge in the bushes, where, still 
 regardless of orders, their enemies followed. Kosciuszko, 
 foreseeing the consequence of this rashness, ordered Thad- 
 deus to dismount part of his squadron, and march after 
 these headstrong men into the forest. He came up with 
 them on the edge of a heathy tract of land, just as they 
 were closing in with a band of arquebusiers, who, having 
 kept up a quick running fire as they retreated, had drawn 
 their pursuers thus far into the thickets. Heedless of any 
 thing but giving their enemy a complete defeat, the Po- 
 landers went on, never looking to the left nor to the right, 
 till all at once they found themselves encompassed by two 
 thousand Muscovite horse, several battalions of chasseurs, 
 and in front of fourteen pieces of cannon, which this dreadful 
 ambuscade opened upon them. 
 
 Thaddeus threw himself into the midst of his country- 
 men, and taking the place of their unfortunate conductor, 
 who had been killed in the first sweep of the artillery, pre- 
 pared the men for a desperate stand. He gave his orders 
 with intrepidity and coolness, though under a heavy show'er 
 of musketry, and a cannonade, which carried death in every 
 round. For himself he had no care ; how to relieve the 
 brave Poles from the dilemma into which they had plunged 
 themselves, was the only thought that occupied his mind.
 
 so THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 In a few minutes the scattered soldiers were consolidated 
 into a close body, flanked and reared with pikemen, who 
 stood, like a grove of pines in a day of tempest, only moving 
 their heads and arms. jSIany of the Russian horse impaled 
 themselves on the sides of this little phalanx, which they 
 vainly attempted to shake, although the ordnance was ra- 
 pidly weakening its strength. File after file the m.en were 
 swept down, their bodies making a horrid rampart for their 
 brave comrades, who, rendered desperate, at last threw away 
 their most cumbrous accoutrements, and crying to their 
 leader, " Escape or death ! " followed him sword in hand ; 
 and bearing like a torrent upon the enemy's ranks, cut their 
 way through the forest. The Russians, exasperated that 
 their prey should not only escape, but escape by such 
 dauntless valour, hung closely on their rear, goading them 
 with musketry, whilst they (like a Avounded lion hardly 
 pressed by the hunters, who retreats, and yet stands proudly 
 at bay,) gradually retired towards the camp with a backward 
 step, their faces towards the foe. 
 
 Meanwhile Sobieski, anxious for the fate of the day, 
 mounted the dyke, and looked eagerly around for the arrival 
 of some messenger from the little army. As the wind blew 
 strongly from the south, a cloud of dust precluded his 
 view ; but from the approach of firing, and the clashing of 
 arms, he was led to fear that his friends had been defeated, 
 and were retreating towards the camp. He instantly 
 quitted the lines to call out a reinforcement; but before he 
 could advance, Kosciuszko and his squadron on the full 
 charge appeared in flank of the enemy, who suddenly halted, 
 and, wheeling round, left the harassed Polanders to enter 
 the trenches unmolested. 
 
 Thaddeus, covered with dust and blood, flung himself 
 into his grandfather's arms. In the heat of action his left 
 arm had been wounded by a Cossac. Aware that loss of 
 blood might disable him from further service, at the moment 
 it happened he bound it up in his sash, and had thought 
 no more of the accident until the palatine remarked blood 
 on his cloak. 
 
 " My injury is slight, my dear sir ;" said he, " I wish to
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 31 
 
 heaven that it were all the evil which has befallen us to- 
 day ! Look at the remnant of our brave comrades." 
 
 Sobieski turned his eyes on the panting soldiers, and on 
 Kosciuszko, who was inspecting them. Some of them, no 
 longer iiplield by desperation, were sinking with wounds and 
 fatigues ; these the good general sent off in litters to the 
 medical department ; and others, who had sustained un- 
 harmed the conflict of the day, after having received the 
 praise and admonition of their commander^ were dismissed 
 to their quarters. 
 
 Before this inspection was over, the palatine had to assist 
 Thaddeus to his tent, who, in spite of his exertions to the 
 contrary, became so faint that it was necessary to lead him 
 off the ground. 
 
 A short time restored him. ^Vith his arm in a sling, he 
 joined his brother officers on the fourth day. After the 
 duty of the morning, he heard with concern that, during his 
 confinement, the Russians had augmented their force to so 
 tremendous a strength, it was impossible for the compara- 
 tively slender force of the Poles to remain longer at ^Vinnica. 
 In consequence of this report, the prince had convened a 
 council late the preceding night, in which it was determined 
 that the camp should immediately be razed, and removed 
 towards Zieleme. 
 
 This information displeased Thaddeus, who in his fairy 
 dreams of war had always made conquest the sure end of 
 his battles; — and many were the siglis he drew, when, at 
 an hour before dawn on the following day, he witnessed the 
 striking of the tents, which, he thought, was only the pre- 
 lude to a shameful flight from the enemy. AV^hile he was 
 standing by the busy people, and musing on the nice line 
 which divides prudence from pusillanimity, his grandfather 
 came up. He desired him to mount his horse ; and told 
 him, that, owing to the unhealed state of his wound, he was 
 removed from the van guard, and ordered to march in the 
 centre, along with the prince. Thaddeus remonstrated 
 against this arrangement, and almost reproached the pala- 
 tine for forfeiting his promise, that he should always be 
 stationed near his person. Sobieski would not be moved, 
 either by argument or entreaty ; and Thaddeus^ finding that
 
 32 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 he neither could nor ought to oppose him, obeyed, and fol- 
 lowed an aid-de-camp to his highness. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 After a march of three hours, the army came in sight of 
 Volunna, where the advanced column suddenly halted, 
 Thaddeus, who was about half a mile to its rear, with a 
 throbbing heart, heard tbat a momentous pass must be dis- 
 puted before they could proceed. He curbed his horse, 
 then gave it the spur ; so eagerly did he wish to penetrate 
 the cloud of smoke which rose in volumes from the dis- 
 charge of musketry, on whose wing, at every round, he 
 dreaded might be carried the fate of his grandfather. At 
 last the firing ceased, and the troops were commanded to 
 go forward. On entering the contested defile, Thaddeus 
 shuddered ; for at every step the heels of his charger struck 
 upon the wounded or the dead. There lay his enemies, here 
 lay his friends ! his respiration was nearly suspended ; and 
 his eyes clung to the ground, expecting at each moment to 
 fasten on the breathless body of his grandfather. 
 
 Again the tumult of battle presented itself. About an 
 hundred soldiers, in one firm rank, stood at the end of the 
 pass, firing on the rear-guard of the Russians. Thaddeus 
 checked his horse. Five hundred had been detached to this 
 post ; how few remained ! Could he hope Sobieski had 
 escaped so desperate a rencontre ? Fearing the worst, and 
 dreading to have those fears confirmed, his heart sickened 
 when he received orders from Poniatowski to examine the 
 extent of the loss. He rode to the mouth of the defile. 
 He could nowhere see the palatine. A few of his hussars, 
 a little in advance, were engaged over a heap of the killed, 
 defending it from a troop of chasseurs, who appeared fight- 
 ing for the barbarous privilege of trampling on the bodies. 
 Thaddeus at this sight, and impelled by despair, called out, 
 " Courage, soldiers ; the prince is here." The chasseurs 
 looking forward, saw the information was true, and took to
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 38 
 
 flight. Poniatowski, almost at the word, was by the side 
 of liis young friend, who, unconscious of any idea but that 
 of filial solicitude, had dismounted. 
 
 " \\'here is the palatine.''" was his immediate enquiry 
 to a solilier who was stooi)ing towards the slain. The man 
 made no answer, but lifted from the heap the bodies of two 
 soldiers ; beneath, Tiiaddeus saw the pale and deadly fea- 
 tures of his grandfather. lie staggered a few paces back: 
 and the prince thinking he was falling, hastened to support 
 him ; but he recovered himself, and flew forwards to assist 
 Kosciuszko, who had raised the head of the palatine upon 
 his knee. 
 
 " Is he alive } " enquired Thaddeus. 
 
 " He breathes." 
 
 Hope was now warm in his breast. The soldiers soon 
 released Sobieski from the surrounding dead ; but his swoon 
 continuing, the prince desired that he might be laid on a 
 bank, until a litter coulil be brought from the rear ranks to 
 convey him to a place of security. Meantime, Tiiaddeus 
 and the general bound up his wounds, and poured some 
 water into his lips. The effusion of blood being stopped, 
 the l)rave veteran opened his eyes ; and in a few minutes, 
 whilst he leaned on the bosom of his grandson, was so far 
 restored as to receive, with his usual modest dignity, the 
 thanks of his highness for the intrepidity with which he had 
 preserved a passage, which ensured the safety of the whole 
 army. 
 
 I'wo surgeons who arrived with the litter relieved the 
 anxiety of the by-standers, by an assurance that the 
 wounds, which they re-examined, w^ere not dangerous. 
 Having laid their patient on the vehicle, they were 
 prepaiing to retire with it into the rear, when Thaddeus 
 petiti(ned the prince to grant him permission to take the 
 command of the guard which was appointed to attend his 
 grandfather. His highness consented ; but Sobieski posi- 
 tively refused. 
 
 " No, Thaddeus," said he ; " you forget the effect which 
 this solicitude about so tjiliing a matter might have on the 
 men. llemember, that he who goes into battle only puts 
 liis own life to the hazard ; but he that abandons the field 
 
 D
 
 '34 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 sports with the Hves of his soldiers. Do not give them 
 leave to suppose, that even your dearest interest could tempt 
 1/ou from the front of danger, when it is your duty to re^ 
 main there." Thaddeus obeyed his grandfather in silence ; 
 and at seven o'clock the army resumed its march. 
 
 Near Zielime the prince was saluted by a reinforcement. 
 It appeared very seasonably; for scouts had brought in- 
 formation that directly across the plain the Russians, under 
 General Branicki, were drawn up in order of battle, to dis- 
 pute his progress. 
 
 Thaddeus, for the first time, shuddered at the sight of 
 the enemy. Should his friends be defeated, what might be 
 the fate of his grandfather, now rendered helpless by many 
 wounds ! Occupied by these fears, with anxiety in his 
 heart, he kept his place at the head of the light horse, close 
 to the hill. 
 
 Prince Poniatowski ordered the lines to extend them- 
 selves, that the right should reach to the river ; and the 
 left he covered by a rising ground, on which were mounted 
 seven pieces of ordnance. Immediately after these dispo- 
 sitions the battle commenced. It continued with violence 
 and unabated fury from eight in the morning until sunset. 
 Several times the Poles were driven from their ground ; but 
 as often recovering themselves, and animated by their com- 
 manders, they prosecuted the fight with advantage. Ge- 
 neral Branicki perceiving that the fortune of the day was 
 going against him, ordered up the body of reserve ; which 
 consisted of four thousand men and several cannon. He 
 erected temporary batteries in a few minutes; — and with 
 these new forces opened a rapid and destructive fire on the 
 Polanders. Kosciuszko, alarmed at perceiving a retrograde 
 motion in liis troops, gave orders for a close attack on the 
 enemy in front, whilst Thaddeus, at the head of his hussars, 
 should wheel round the hill of artillery, and with loud cries, 
 charge the opposite flank. This stratagem succeeded. The 
 Cossacs who were posted on that spot, seeing the impe- 
 tuosity of the Poles, and the quarter whence they came, 
 Bupjiosed them to be a fresh squadron ; gave ground, and 
 opening in all directions, threw their own people into a 
 confusion that completed the defeat. Kosciuszko and the
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 35 
 
 prince were equally successful ; and a general panic amongst 
 their adversaries was the consequence. The whole of the 
 Russian army now took to flight, except a few regiments of 
 carabiniers, whicli were entangled between the river and the 
 Poles. These were immediately surrounded by a battalion of 
 Masovian infantry ; who^ enraged at tlie loss their body had 
 sustained the preceding day, answered a cry for quarter 
 with reproach and derision. At this instant the Sobieski 
 squadron came up ; and 'I'haddeus, who saw tlie perilous 
 situation of these regiments, ordered the slaughter to cease, 
 and the men to be taken prisoners. The Masovians ex- 
 hibited strong signs of dissatisfaction at such commands ; 
 but the young count charging through them, ranged his 
 troops before the Russians, and declared that the first man 
 who should dare to lift a sword against his orders should 
 be shot. The Poles dropped their arms. The poor cara- 
 biniers fell on their knees to thank his mercy ; whilst their 
 officers in a sullen silence, which seemed ashamed of gra- 
 titude, surrendered their swords into the hands of their 
 deliverers. 
 
 During this scene, only one very young Russian appeared 
 wholly refractory. He held up his sword in a menacing; 
 posture when Thaddeus drew near, and before he hatl 
 time to speak the young man made a cut at his head, 
 "which a hussar parried, by striking him to the earth, and 
 Avould have killed him on the spot, had not Thaddeus 
 caught the blow on his own sword; then instantly dis- 
 mounting, he raised the officer from the ground, and apolo- 
 gised for the too hasty zeal of his soldier. Tlie youth 
 blushed, and bowing presented his sword ; which was re- 
 ceived, and as directly returned. 
 
 " Brave sir," said Thaddeus, " I consider myself en- 
 nobled in restoring this sword to him who has so coura- 
 geously defended it." 
 
 The Russian made no reply, but by a second bow ; and 
 put his hand on his breast, which was wet with blood. 
 Ceremony was now at an end. Thaddeus never looked 
 upon the imfortunate as strangers, much less as enemies. 
 Accosting the wounded officer with a friendly voice, he 
 assured him of his services, and made him lean on his 
 D 2
 
 S6 THADDEUS OF WARSA^r. 
 
 shoulder. The young man, incapable of speaking, ac- 
 cepted his assistance ; but before a conveyance could 
 arrive, for which two men were despatched, he fainted in 
 -his arms. Thaddeus being obliged to join the prince with 
 his prisoners, unwillingly left the young Russian in this 
 situation ; but, before he did so, he directed one of his lieu- 
 tenants to take care that the surgeons should pay attention 
 to the officer, and have his litter carrietl next to the pala- 
 tine's during the remainder of the march. 
 
 When the army halted at nine o'clock, preparations were 
 "made to fix the camp ; and in case of a surprisal from any 
 part "of the dispersed enemy, which might have rallied, 
 orders were delivered for throwing up a dyke. Thaddeus, 
 having been assured that his grandfather and the wounded 
 Russian were comfortably stationed near each other, did 
 not hesitate to accept the command of the intrenching 
 party. To that end, he wrapped himself loosely in his 
 pelisse, and prepared for a long watch. The night was 
 beautiful. It being the month of June, a softening warmth 
 still floated through the air, as if the moon, wiiich shone 
 over his head, emitted heat as well as splendour. His 
 mind was in unison with the season. He rode slowly 
 round from bank to bank ; sometimes speaking to the 
 workers in the fosse ; sometimes lingering for a few minutes, 
 looking on the ground, he thought on the element of which 
 he was composed, to which he might so soon return ; then 
 gazing upwards, he observed the silent march of the stars, 
 and the moving scene of the heavens. On whatever object 
 he cast his eyes, his soul, which the recent events had dis- 
 solved into a temper not the less delightful for being tinged 
 with melancholy, meditated with intense compassion ; and 
 dwelt with wonder on the mind of man, which, whilst it 
 adores the Creator of tfie universe, and measures the im- 
 mensity of space, with an expansion of intellect almost 
 divine, can devote itself to the narrow limits of sublunary 
 possessions, and exchange the boundless paradise above 
 for the low enjoyments of human pride. He looked with 
 pity over that wide tract of land, which now lay betwixt 
 him and the remains of those four thousand Russians who 
 had fallen victims to the insatiate desires of ambition. He
 
 TIIADDKUS OP WARSAW. 3/ 
 
 well knew the difference between a defender of his own 
 country and the invader of another's. His heart beat, his 
 soul expanded, at the prospect of securing liberty and life 
 to a virtuous people. He fc/t all the happiness of such an 
 achievement ; while he could only iniayiiie how that spirit 
 must shrink from reflection, which animates the self-cou- 
 demned slave to fight, not merely to fasten chains on others, 
 but to rivet his own the closer. The best affections of man 
 having put the sword into the hand of Thaddeus, his jirin- 
 ciples as a Christian did not remonstrate against his passion 
 for arms. 
 
 ^Vlien he was told the fortifications were finished, he 
 retired with a tranquil step towards the IMasovian quarters. 
 He found the palatine awake, and eager to welcome him 
 with the joyful information that his wounds were so slight 
 as to promise a speedy amendment. Thaddeus asked for 
 his prisoner. The palatine answered, he was in the next 
 tent, where a surgeon closely attended him, and who had 
 given a very favourable opinion of the wound, which was 
 in the muscles of the breast. 
 
 " Have you seen him, my dear sir?" enquiretl Thad- 
 deus. " Does he appear to think himself well treated } " 
 
 " Yes," replied the palatine ; " I was supported into his 
 marquee, before I retired to my own. I told him who I 
 was, and repeated your offers of service. He received my 
 proffer with expressions of gratitude ; and at the same time 
 declared he had nothing to blame but his own folly for 
 bringing him to the state in which he now lies." 
 
 " How, my lord!" rejoined Thaddeus. "Does he re- 
 pent of being a soldier .'' or is he ashamed of the cause for 
 which he fought ? " 
 
 " Both, Thaddeus ; he is not a Russian, but a young 
 Englishman." 
 
 " An Englishman ! and raise his arm against a country 
 struggling for liberty!" 
 
 " It is very true," returned the palatine : " but as he 
 confesses it was his folly, and the persuasions of others, 
 which impelled him, he may be pardoned. He is a mere 
 youth ; J think hardly your age. I understand tliat he is 
 of rank ; and having undertaken the tour of Europe under 
 D 3
 
 38 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 the direction of a travelling governor^ he took Russia in 
 his route. At Petersburgh he became intimate with many 
 of the nobility, particularly with Count Branicki^ at whose 
 house he resided : and when the count was named to the 
 command of the army in Poland, Mr. Somerset (for that is 
 your prisonei''s name), instigated by his own volatility, and 
 the arguments of his host, volunteered with him ; and so 
 followed his friend to oppose that freedom here which he 
 would have asserted in his own nation." 
 
 Thaddeus thanked his grandfather for this information ; 
 and pleased that the young man, who had so much interested 
 him, was any thing but a Muscovite, he gaily and instantly 
 repaired to his tent. 
 
 A generous heart is as eloquent in acknowledging benefits 
 as it is bounteous in bestowing them ; and Mr. Somerset 
 received his preserver with the warmest demonstrations of 
 gratitude. Thaddeus begged him not to consider himself 
 as particularly obliged by a conduct which every soldier of 
 honour has a right to expect from another. The English- 
 man bowed his head ; and Thaddeus took a seat by his 
 bedside. 
 
 Whilst he gathered from his own lips a corroboration of 
 the narrative of the palatine, he could not forbear enquiring 
 how a person of his apparent candour, and who was also 
 the native of a soil where liberty had so long been the 
 palladium of its happiness, could volunteer in a cause, the 
 object of which was to make a brave people slaves ? 
 
 Somerset listened to these questions with blushes ; and 
 they did not leave his face when he confessed that all he 
 could say in extenuation of what he had done was to plead 
 his youth, and having thought little on the subject. 
 
 " I was wrouglit upon," continued he, " by a variety of 
 circumstances : first, the principles of Mr. Loftus, my 
 governor, are strongly in favour of the court of Peters- 
 burgh ; secondly, my father disliked the army, and I am 
 enthusiastically fond of it — this was the only opportunity 
 in which I might ever satisfy my passion ; and lastly, I 
 believe that I was dazzled by the picture which the young 
 men about me drew of the campaign. I longed to be a 
 soldier ; they persuaded me ; and 1 followed them to the
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 39 
 
 field as I would have done to a ball-room, heedless of the 
 consequence." 
 
 " Yet," replied Thaddeus, smiling, '^ from the intre- 
 pidity with which you maintained your ground, when your 
 arms were demanded, any one might have thought that your 
 whole soul as well as your body was engaged in the cause." 
 
 " To be sure, ' returned Somerset, " I was a blockhead 
 to be there ; but when there, I should have despised myself 
 for ever, had I given up my honour to the ruffians who 
 would have wrested my sword from me ! But when yovt 
 came, noble Sobieski, it was the fate of war, and I confided 
 myself to a brave man." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Each succeeding morning, not only brought fresh symptoms 
 of recovery to the two invalids, but condensed the mutual 
 admiration of the young men into a solid and ardent esteem. 
 It is not the disposition of youthful minds to weigh, for 
 months and years, the sterling value of those qualities which 
 attract them. As soon as they see virtue, they respect it ; 
 as soon as they meet kindness, they believe it j and as soon 
 «s a union of both presents itself, they love it. Not having 
 passed through the disappointments of a delusive world, 
 ihey grasp for reality every pageant which appears. They 
 liave not yet admitted that cruel doctrine, which, when it 
 takes effect, creates and extends the misery it affects to cure. 
 "VVliilst we give up our souls to suspicion, we gradually 
 learn to deceive ; whilst we repress the fervours of our own 
 4iearts, we freeze those which approach us ; whilst we 
 cautiously avoid occasions of receiving pain, at every remove 
 "We acquire an unconscious influence to inflict it on those 
 ■who follow us. They, again, meet from our conduct and 
 lips the reason and the lesson to destroy the expanding sen- 
 sibilities of their nature ; and thus the tormenting chain 
 of deceived and deceiving characters is lengthened to in- 
 finitude. 
 
 D 4-
 
 40 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 About the latter end of tlie montli Sobieski received a 
 summons to court, where a diet was to be held, in conse- 
 quence of the victory at Zielime, to consider of future 
 proceedings. In the same packet his majesty enclosed a 
 collar and investiture of the order of St. Stanislaus, as an 
 acknowledgment of service to the young Thaddeus ; and he 
 accompanied it with a note from himself, expressing his 
 commands that the young knight should return with the 
 palatine and other generals, to receive thanks from the 
 tlirone. 
 
 Thaddeus, half wild with delight, at the thoughts of so 
 soon meeting his mother, ran to the tent of his British 
 friend to communicate the tidings. Somerset participated 
 in his pleasure ; and with reciprocal warmth accepted the 
 invitation to accompany him to Villanow. 
 
 " I would follow you, my friend," said he, pressing the 
 hand of Thaddeus, " all over the world." 
 
 " Then I will take you to the most charming spot in it ! " 
 cried he. " Villanow is an Eden ; and my mother, the 
 dear angel, who would make a desert so to me." 
 
 " You speak so rapturously of your enchanted castle, 
 Thaddeus," returned his friend, " I believe I shall consider 
 my knight-errantry, in being fool enough to trust myself 
 amidst a fray in which I had no business, as one of the 
 wisest acts of my life !" 
 
 " I consider it," replied Thaddeus, " as one of the 
 luckiest events in mine." 
 
 Before the palatine quitted the camp, Somerset thought 
 it proper to acquaint Mr. Loftus, who was yet at Peters- 
 burgh, of the particulars of his late danger ; and that he 
 was going to AVarsaw with his new friends, where he should 
 remain for several weeks. lie added, that as the court of 
 Poland, through the intercession of the palatine, had gener- 
 ously given him his liberty, he should be able to see every 
 thing in that country worthy of investigation ; and that he 
 would write to him again, enclosing letters for England, soon 
 after his arrival at the Polish capital. 
 
 The weather continuing fine, in a few days the party left 
 Zielime ; and the palatine and Somerset being so far restored 
 from their wounds that they could walk, the one with a
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 41 
 
 crutch, and the other by the support of his friend's arm, 
 they went through the journey with animation and pleasure. 
 The benign wisdom of Sobieski, the intelligent enthu- 
 siasm of Thaddeus, and the playful vivacity of Somerset, 
 mingling their different natures, produced such a beautiful 
 union, tliat the minutes flew fast as their wishes. A week 
 more carried them into the palatinate of Masovia ; and soon 
 afterwards within the walls of Villanow. 
 
 Every thing that presented itself to ]\Ir. Somerset was 
 new and fascinating. He saw, in the domestic felicity of 
 his friend, scenes whicli reminded him of the social harmony 
 of his own home. lie beheld, in the palace and retinue of 
 Sobieski, all the magnificence which bespoke the descendant 
 of a great king ; and a power whicli wanted nothing of 
 royal grandeur but the crown, which he had the magnanimity 
 to think and to declare was then i)laced upon a more worthy 
 brow. AVhilst Somerset venerated this true patriot, the 
 high tone his mind acquired was not lowered by associating 
 with characters nearer the common standard. The friends 
 of Sobieski were men of tried probity ; men who, at all 
 times, preferred their country's welfare before their own 
 peculiar interest. Mr. Somerset, day after day, listened 
 with deep attention to these virtuous and energetic noblemen. 
 He saw them full of fire and personal courage when the 
 affairs of Poland were discussed ; and he beheld with ad- 
 miration their perfect forgetfulness of themselves in their 
 passion for the general good. In these moments his heart 
 bowed down before them ; and all the pride of a Briton 
 distended his breast, when he thought that such as these 
 men are his ancestors were. He remembered how often 
 their chivalric virtues used to occupy his reflections in the 
 picture gallery at Somerset Castle ; and his doubts, when he 
 compared what is with what was, that history had glossed 
 over the actions of past centuries, or that a different order 
 of men lived then from those which now inhabit the world. 
 Thus, studying the sublime characters of Sobieski and his 
 friends, and enjoying the endearing kindness of Thaddeus 
 and his mother, did a fortnight pass away, without his even 
 recollecting the promise of writing to his governor. At the 
 end of that period, lie stole an hour from the countess's
 
 42 
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 society ; and enclosed in a short letter to Mr. Loftus the 
 following epistle to his mother : — 
 
 " To Lady Somerset, Somerset Castle, Leicestershire. 
 
 " Many weeks ago, my dearest mother, I wrote a letter 
 of seven sheets from Petersburg!! ; which, long ere this 
 time, you and my dear father must have received. I at- 
 tempted to give you some idea of the manners of Russia ; 
 and my vanity whispers that I succeeded tolerably well. 
 The court of the famous Catherine, and the attentions of 
 the hospitable Count Branicki, were then the subjects of 
 my pen. 
 
 " But, how shall I account for my being here ? How 
 shall I allay your surprise and displeasure, on seeing that 
 this letter is dated from Warsaw ! I know that I have 
 acted against the wish of my father, in visiting one of the 
 countries he proscribed. I know that I have disobeyed 
 your commands, in ever having at any period of my life 
 taken up arms without an indispensable necessity ; and I 
 have nothing to allege in my defence. I fell in the way of 
 temptation, and I yielded to it. I really cannot enumerate 
 aU the things which induced me to volunteer with the Rus- 
 sians ; suffice it to say, that I did so ; and that we were 
 defeated by the Poles at Zielime : and as Heaven has rather 
 rewarded your prayers than punished my imprudence, I 
 trust you will do the same, and pardon an indiscretion I 
 vow never to repeat. 
 
 I- " Notwithstanding all this, I must have lost my life 
 through my folly, had I not been preserved, even in the 
 moment when death was pending over me, by a young 
 officer with whose family I now am. The very sound of 
 their title will create your respect ; for ve of the patrician 
 order have a strange tenacity in our belief that virtue is 
 hereditary ; and in this instance our creed is duly honoured. 
 The title is Sobieski : the family which bears it is the only 
 remaining posterity of the great monarch of that name ; 
 and the count, who is at its head, is Palatine of Masovia ; 
 which, next to the throne, is the first dignity in the state. 
 He is one of tlie warmest champions of his country's rights;
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 43 
 
 and, thougli born to command, has so far transgressed the 
 golden adage of despots, ' Ignorance and subjection,' that 
 throughout his territories every man is taught to worship 
 his God with his heart as well as with his knees. The un- 
 derstandings of his peasants are opened to all useful know- 
 ledge, lie does not put books of science and speculations 
 into their hands, to consume their time in vain pursuits ; 
 he gives them the Bible, and implements of industry to 
 aftbrd them the means of knowing and of practising their 
 duty. All Masovia, around his palace, blooms like a garden. 
 The cheerful faces of the farmers, and the blessings which 
 1 hear them implore on the family, when I am walking in 
 the fields with the young count (for in this country the 
 sons bear the same title with their fathers), have even 
 drawn a few delighted drops from the eyes of your thought- 
 less son ! I know that you think I have nothing sentimental 
 about me ; else you would not so often have poured into 
 my not inattentive ears, ' that to estimate the pleasures of 
 earth and heaven, we must cultivate the sensibilities of the 
 heart. Shut our eyes against them, and we are merely 
 nicely constructed speculums, which reflect the beauties of 
 nature, but enjoy none.' You see, mamma, that I both 
 remember and adopt your lessons. 
 
 " Thaddeus Sobieski is the grandson of the palatine, and 
 the sole heir of his illustrious race. It is to him that I owe 
 the preservation of my life at Zielime, and nmch of my 
 happiness since ; for he is not only the bravest, but the 
 most amiable young man in the kingdom ; and he is my 
 friend. Indeed, as things have happened, you must think 
 that out of evil has come good. Though I have been dis- 
 obedient, my fault has introduced me to the aftection of 
 people whose friendship will henceforward constitute the 
 greatest pleasure of my days. The mother of Thaddeus is 
 the only daughter of the palatine ; and of her I can say no 
 more than that nothing on earth can more remind me of 
 you ; she is equally charming, equally tender to your son. 
 
 '•' Ariiilst the ])alatine is engaged at the diet, her excel- 
 lency, Thaddeus, and myself, with now and then a few 
 visitors from Warsaw, form the most agreeable parties you 
 can suppose. "W^e walk together, we read together, we
 
 44 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 converse together, we sing together — at least, the countess 
 sings to us, which is all the same ; and you know that 
 time flies swiftly on the wings of harmony. She has an 
 uncommonly sweet voice ; and a taste which I never heard 
 paralleled. By the way, you cannot imagine any thing 
 more beautiful than the Polish music. It partakes of that 
 delicious languor so distinguished in the Turkish airs ; with 
 a mingling of those wandering melodies, which the now- 
 forgotten composers must have caught from the Tartars. 
 In short, whilst the countess is singing I hardly suffer 
 myself to breathe ; and I feel, just what our poetical friend 
 William Scarsdale said a twelvemonth ago at a concert of 
 yours, ' I feel as if love sat upon my heart, and flapped it 
 with his wings.' 
 
 " I have tried all my powers of persuasion to prevail on 
 this charming countess to visit our country. I have over 
 and over again told her of you, and described you to her ; 
 that you are near her own age (for this lovely woman, 
 though she has a son nearly twenty, is not more than 
 forty) ; that you are as fond of your ordinary boy as she 
 is of her peerless one ; that, in short, you and my father 
 will receive her, and Thaddeus, and the palatine, with open 
 arms and hearts, if they will condescend to visit our. 
 humble home at the end of the v;ar. I believe I have 
 repeated my entreaties, both to the countess and my friend, 
 regularly every day since my arrival at Villanow ; but 
 always with the same issue : she smiles and refuses ; and 
 Thaddeus ' shakes his ambrosial curls with a ' very godlike 
 frown of denial ; I hope it is self- denial, in compliment 
 to his mother's cruel and unprovoked negative. 
 
 "Before I proceed, I must give you some idea of the 
 real appearance of this palace. I recollect your having read 
 a superficial account of it in a few slight sketches of Poland 
 which have been published in England ; but the pictures 
 they exhibit are so faint, they hardly resemble the ori- 
 ginal. Pray do not laugh at me, if I begin in the usual 
 descriptive style ! You know there is only one Avay to 
 describe houses and lands and rivers ; so no blame can be 
 thrown on me for taking the beaten path, where there is 
 no other. To commence : —
 
 THAIVDEUS OF WARSAW, 45 
 
 "When we left Zielime, and advanced into tlie province 
 of Masovia, the country around Prague rose at every step 
 in fresh beauty. The numberless chains of gently swelling 
 hills, which encompass it on each side of the Vistula, were 
 in some parts chequered with corn fields, meadows, and 
 green pastures covered with sheej), whose soft bleatings 
 thrilled in my ears, and transported my senses into new 
 regions ; so different was my charmed and tranquillised 
 mind from the tossing anxieties attendant on the horrors 
 1 had recently witnessed. Surely there is nothing in the 
 world, short of the most undivided reciprocal attachment, 
 that has such power over the workings of the human heart 
 as the mild sweetness of nature. The most ruffled temper, 
 when emerging from the town, will subside into a calm at 
 the sight of a wide stretch of landscape reposing in the 
 tAvilight of a fine evening. It is then that the spirit of 
 peace settles upon the heart, unfetters the thoughts, and 
 elevates the soul to the C'reator. It is then that we behold 
 the Parent of the universe in his Avorks ; ire sec his grandeur, 
 in earth, sea, and sky : we feel his affection, in the emo- 
 tions which they raise ; and, half mortal, half etherealised, 
 forget Avhcre we are, in the anticipation of what that world 
 must be of which this lovely earth is merely the shadow.* 
 
 " Autumn seemed to be unfolding all her beauties, to 
 greet the return of the palatine. In one part, the hay- 
 makers were mowing the hay, and heaping it into stacks ; 
 in another, the reapers were gathering up the wheat, with 
 a troop of rosy little gleaners behind them, each of whom 
 might have tempted the proudest Palemon in Christendom 
 to have changed her toil into ' a gentler duty.' Such a 
 landscape, intermingled with the little farms of these honest 
 people, whom tlie philanthropy of Sobieski has rendered 
 free (for it is a tract of his extensive domains I am de- 
 
 * This description of the banks of the Vistula was given to me with smiles 
 and siyhs. Tlie reality was once enjoyed by the narrator, and there was a de- 
 light in the retrospection "sweet and mf.urnful to the soul." At the time 
 these reflections ..rose (.'n such a scene, I often tasted the same pleasure in 
 evening visits to the beautiful rural environs of London, which then extended 
 from the north side of Fitzroy-square to beyond the Elm-grove on Primrose, 
 hill, and forward through the (iclds to Harapstcad. But most of tluit is all 
 streets, or Hcgei:t's Park; and the sweet Hill, then the resort of many a 
 happy Sunday group, has not now a tree standing on it, and hardly a blade of 
 grass, " to mark where the primrose has been !"
 
 '46 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 scribing), reminded me of Somerset. Villages repose in 
 the green hollows of the vales ; and cottages are seen 
 peeping from amidst the thick umbrage of the woods which 
 cover the face of the hills. The irregular forms and 
 thatched roofs of these simple habitations, with their infant 
 inhabitants playing at the doors, composed such lovely- 
 groups, that I wished for our dear Mary's pencil and fin- 
 gers (for, alas ! that way mine are motionless !) to ti-ans- 
 port them to your eyes. 
 
 '' The palace of Villanow, which is castellated, and stands 
 in the midst of a fortress, now burst upon my view. It 
 rears its embattled head from the summit of a hill that 
 gradually slopes down towards the Vistula, and borders tO" 
 the south the plain of Vola* ; a spot long famous for the 
 election of the kings of Poland. On the north of the 
 building, the earth is cut into natural ramparts, which rise 
 in high succession until they reach the foundations of the 
 palace, where they terminate in a noble terrace. These 
 ramparts, covered with grass, overlook the stone outworks, 
 and spread down to the bottom of the hill ; which, being 
 clothed with fine trees and luxuriant underwood, forms 
 such a rich and verdant base to the fortress as I have not 
 language to describe : were I privileged to be poetical, I 
 would say, it reminds me of the god of war sleeping amid 
 roses in the bower of Love. Here, the eye may wander 
 
 * It was from this very assumption by the nation, on the extinction of the 
 male line of the monarclis of the house of Jaghellon, tliat all their subsequent 
 political calamities may be dated. The two last sovereigns of this race were most 
 justly styled good and great kings — father and son — Sigismund I. and II. But on 
 the death of the last, about the middle of the sixteentli century, certain nobles 
 of the nation, intoxicated with their wealth and privileges, ran wild for dicta- 
 tion in all things; and as the foundation of such rule, they determined to 
 make their future kings, each in his succession, entirely dependent on the free 
 vote of public suflVage ; and the plain of Vola was made tho terrible arena. So 
 it may be called ; for, from the time of the first monarch so elected, Henry of 
 Valois, a stranger to the country, and brother to the execrable Charles IX. of 
 l>"rancc, bril)ery or violence have been the usual keys to the throne of Poland. 
 For the doors of the country being once opened, by the misguided people them. 
 selves, to the influence of ambition, partiality, and passion, and shut against 
 the old tenure of a settled succession, foreign powers were always ready to step 
 in, with gold or the sword; and I'oland necessarily became a vassal adjunct to 
 whatever neighl)ouring country had furnished the new sovereign. Thus it was, 
 with a few exceptions (as in the case of the glorious John Sobieski), until the 
 election of Stanislaus Augustus ; who, tliough nominated by the jjower of the 
 Empress of Russia, yet being, like Sobieski, a native prince of the nation, deter- 
 mined to govern tho people of I'oland.in the spirit of his and their most glorious 
 ancestors ; and, true to the vow, treading in the steps of the last of the Ja- 
 ghellons, be gave to I'oland the constitution of 171II ; which, with the rcno. 
 vation of many wise laws, again made the throne hereditary.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 47 
 
 over the gifts of bounteous Nature, arraying hill and dale in 
 all the united treasures of spring and autumn. The forest 
 stretches its yet unsearcd arms to the breeze ; whilst that 
 breeze comes laden with the fragrance of the tented hay, 
 and the thousand sweets breathed from flowers, which in 
 this delicious country weep honey. 
 
 " A magnificent flight of steps led us from the foot of the 
 ramparts up to the gate of the palace. We entered it ; and 
 were presently surrounded by a train of attendants in such 
 sumptuous liveries, that I found myself all at once carried 
 back into the fifteenth century, and might have fancied 
 myself within the courtly halls of our Tudors and Planta- 
 genets. You can better conceive than I can paint the scene 
 whicli took place between the palatine, the countess, and 
 her son. I can only repeat, that from that hour 1 have 
 known no want of happiness, but what arises from regret 
 tliat my dear family are not partakers with me. 
 
 " You know that this stupendous building was the fa- 
 vourite residence of John Sobieski, and that he erected it 
 as a resting place from the labours of his long and glorious 
 reign. I cannot move without meeting some vestige of that 
 truly great monarch. I sleep in his bed-chamber : there 
 hangs his portrait, dressed in the robes of sovereignty; here 
 are suspended the arms with which he saved the very king- 
 doms v>-hich have now met together to destroy his country. 
 On one side is his library; on the other, the little chapel in 
 which he used to pay his morning and evening devotions. 
 ^V^herever 1 look, my eye finds some object to excite my 
 reflections and emulation. The noble dead seem to address 
 me from their graves ; and I blush at the inglorious life I 
 might have pursued, had I never visited this house and its 
 inhabitants. Yet, my dearest mother, I do not mean to 
 reproach you, nor to insinuate that my revered father and 
 brave ancestors have not set me examples as bright as man 
 need follow : but human nature is capricious ; we are not so 
 easily stimulated by what is always in our view, as with 
 sights which, rising up when we are removed from our cus- 
 tomary associations, surprise and captivate our attention. 
 Villanow has only awakened me to the lesson which I conned 
 over in drowsy carelessness at home. Thaddeus Sobieski
 
 9«> THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 is hardly one year my senior ; but, good heaven ! what has 
 he not done ? what has he not acquired ? Whilst I abused 
 the indulgence of my parents, and wasted my days in 
 riding, shooting, and walking the streets, he was learning 
 to act as became a man of rank and virtue ; and by seizing 
 every opportunity to serve the state, he has obtained a rich 
 reward in the respect and admiration of his country. I am 
 not envious, but I now feel the truth of Ctesar's speech 
 when he declared, ' the reputation of Alexander would not 
 let him sleep.' Nevertheless, I dearly love my friend. I 
 murmur at my own demerits, not at his worth. 
 
 " I have scribbled over all my paper, otherwise I verily 
 believe I should write more ; however, I promise you an- 
 other letter in a week or two. Meanwhile I shall send this 
 packet to Mr. Loftus, who is at Petersburgh, to forward 
 it to you. Adieu, my dear mother ! I am, with reverence 
 to my father and yourself, 
 
 '' Your truly affectionate son, 
 
 " Pembroke Somerset. 
 *' Fillanow, August, 1792." 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " To Lady Somerset, Somerset Castle, England. 
 
 [Written three weeks after the preceding.] 
 
 *' You know, my dear mother, that your Pembroke is famous 
 for his ingenious mode of showing the full value of every 
 favour he confers ! Can I then relinquish the temptation 
 of telling you what I have left to make you happy with 
 this epistle ? 
 
 " About five minutes ago, I was sitting on the lawn at 
 the feet of the countess, reading to her and the Princess 
 Poniatowski the charming poem of ' The Pleasures of Me- 
 . ntori/.' As both these ladies understand English, they were 
 .admiring it, and paying many compliments to the graces of 
 my delivery, when tlie palatine presented himself, and told 
 me, if I had any commands for Petersburgh_, 1 must
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 49 
 
 prepare them, for a messenger was to set off on the next 
 morning by daybreak. I instantly sprang up, threw my 
 book into the hand of Thaddeus ; and here I am in my own 
 room, scribbling to you ! 
 
 " Even at the moment in which I dip my pen in the ink, 
 my hurrying imagination paints on my heart the situation 
 of my beloved home when this letter reaches you. I think 
 I see you and my good aunt seated on the blue sofa in your 
 dressing-room, with your needle-work on the little table be- 
 fore you ; I see IMary in her usual nook, tlie recess by the 
 old harpsichord ; and my dear father, bringing in this happy 
 letter from your son ! I must confess this romantic kind of 
 fancy-sketching makes me feel rather oddly ; very unlike 
 M'hat I felt a few months ago, when I was a mere coxcomb ; 
 indifferent, unreflecting, unappreciating, and fit for nothing 
 better than to hold pins at my lady's toilet. Well, it is now 
 made evident to me, that we never know the blessings of 
 existence until we are separated from the possession of them. 
 Absence tightens the string which unites 'friends as well as 
 lovers ; at least I find it so ; and though I am in the fru- 
 ition of every good on this side the ocean, yet my happiness 
 renders me ungrateful, and I repine because I enjoy it 
 alone. Positively, I must bring you all hither to pass a 
 summer; or come back at the termination of my travels, and 
 carry away this dear family by main force to England. 
 
 " Tell my cousin jMary that, either way, I shall present 
 to her esteem the most accomplished of human beings ; but 
 I warn her not to fall in love with him, neither in propria 
 persona, nor by his public fame, nor with his private cha- 
 racter. Tell her, ' he is a bright and particular star,' nei- 
 ther in her sphere nor in any other woman's. In this way, 
 he is as cold as ' Dians Crescent ; ' and to my great amaze- 
 ment too ; for when I throw my eyes over the many lovely 
 young women who at different times fill the drawing-room 
 of the countess, I cannot but wonder at the perfect in- 
 difference Avith which he views their (to me) irresistible 
 attractions. 
 
 " He is polite and attentive to them all : he talks with 
 them, smiles with them, and treats them with every active 
 complacency ; but they do not live one instant in liis me-
 
 5Q THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 mory. I mean, they do not occupy his particular wishes ; 
 for with regard to every respectful sentiment towards the 
 sex in general, and esteem to some amiable inilividuals, he 
 is as awakened as in the other case he is still asleep. The 
 fact is, he has no idea of appropriation ; he never casts one 
 thought upon himself: kindness is spontaneous in his na- 
 ture ; his sunny eyes beam on all with modest benignity; 
 and his frank and glowing conversation is directed to every 
 rank of people. They imbibe it with an avidity and love, 
 which makes its way to his heart without avv'akening his 
 vanity. Thus, whilst his fine person and splendid actions 
 fill every eye and bosom, I see him moving in the circle 
 unconscious of his eminence, and the interest he excites. 
 
 " Drav.'n by such an example, to which his high quality 
 as Avell as extraordinary merit gives so great an influence, 
 most of the younger nobility have been led to enter the army. 
 These circumstances, added to the detail of his bravery and 
 uncommon talents in the field, have made him an object of 
 universal regard ; and, in consequence, wherever he is seen 
 he meets Vv^ith applause and acclamation : nay, even at the 
 appearance of his carriage in the streets, the passengers take 
 off their hats, and pray for him till he is out of sight. It 
 is only then that I perceive his cheek flush with the con- 
 viction that he is adored. 
 
 " ' It is this, Thaddeus,' said I to him one day, Avlien 
 walking together we were obliged to retire into a house from 
 the crowds that followed him ; '^ it is this, my dear friend, 
 which shields your heart against the arrows of love. You 
 have no place for that passion ; your mistress is glory, and 
 she courts you.' 
 
 " ' My mistress is my country,' replied he ; ' at present 
 I desire no other. For her I would die ; for her only I 
 ■would wish to live.' ^Vhilst he spoke, the energy of his soul 
 blazed in his eyes : I smiled. 
 
 " ' You are an enthusiast, Thaddeus.' 
 
 " ' Pembroke ! ' returned he, in a surprised and reproach- 
 ful tone. 
 
 " ' I do not give you that name opprobriously,' resumed 
 I, laughing ; ' but there are many in my country, who, 
 hearing these sentiments, would not scruple to call you mad.'
 
 THADDEVS OF WARSAW. 51 
 
 " ' Then I pity them/ returned Thaddcus. ' Men who 
 cannot ardently feel, cannot taste supreme happiness. My 
 grandfather educated me at the feet of patriotism ; and 
 when I forget his precepts and example, may my guardian 
 angel forget me ! ' 
 
 " ' Happy, glorious Thaddeus !' cried I, grasping his 
 hand; 'how I envy you your destiny! — To live as you 
 do, in the lap of honour ; virtue and glory, the aim and end 
 of your existence ! ' 
 
 " The animated countenance of my friend changed at 
 these words, and laying his hand on my arm, he said, 
 * Do not envy me my destiny. Pembroke, you are the 
 citizen of a free country, at peace with itself; insatiate 
 power has not dared to invade its rights. Your king in 
 happy security reigns in the hearts of his people ; whilst 
 our anointed Stanislaus is baited and insulted by oppression 
 from without, and ingratitude within. Do not envy me : 
 I would rather live in obscurity all my days, than have the 
 means which calamity has bestowed, of acquiring celebrity 
 over the ruins of Poland. O ! my friend, the wreath that 
 crowns the head of conquest is thick and bright ; but that 
 which binds the olive of peace on the bleeding wounds of 
 my country will be the dearest to me.' 
 
 " Such sentiments, my dear madam, have opened new 
 lights upon my poor mistaken faculties. I did not consider 
 the subject so maturely as my friend has done ; victory and 
 glory were with me synonymous words. I had not learned, 
 until frequent conversations with the young, ardent, and 
 pious Sobieski taught me, how to discriminate between 
 ferocity and valour ; between the patriot and the assassin ; 
 between the defender of his country and the ravager of other 
 states. In short, I see in Thaddeus Sobieski all that my 
 fancy hath ever pictured of the heroic character. AVhilst 
 I contemplate the sublimity of his sentiments, and the 
 tenderness of his soul, I cannot help thinking how few 
 would believe that so many admirable qualities could belong 
 to one mind, and yet that mind remain unacquainted with 
 the throes of ambition or the throbs of vanity." 
 
 Pembroke judged rightly of his friend ; for if ever the 
 E 2
 
 52 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 real disinterested amor patricB glowed in the breast of a 
 man, it animated the heart of the young Sobiesld. At the 
 termination of tlie foregoing sentence in the letter to his 
 mother, Pembroke was interrupted by the entrance of a 
 servant, who presented him a packet which liad that mo- 
 ment arrived from Petersburg!!. He took it, and laying his 
 writing materials into a desk, read the following epistle 
 from his governor. 
 
 " To Pembroke Somerset, Esq. 
 
 " My dear Sir, 
 
 "I have this day received your letter, enclosing one for 
 Lady Somerset. You must pardon me that I have de- 
 tained it, and will continue to do so until I am favoured with 
 your answer to this, for which I shall most anxiously wait. 
 
 " You know, jNIr. Somerset, my reputation in the sciences; 
 you know my depth in the languages ; and besides, the 
 Marquis of Inverary, with whom I travelled over the Con- 
 tinent, offered you sufficient credentials respecting my know- 
 ledge of the world, and the honourable manner in which I 
 treat my pupils. Sir Robert Somerset, and your lady mother, 
 were amply satisfied with the account which his lordship 
 gave of my character ; but with all this, in one point every 
 man is vidnerable. No scholar can forget those lines of 
 the poet, — 
 
 Felices ter, et amplius, 
 Quos irrupta tenet copula ; nee malis 
 
 Divulsus qua^rimoniis, 
 Suprema citius solvet amor die. 
 
 It has been my misfortune that I have felt them. 
 
 " You are not ignorant that I was known to the Branicki 
 family, when I had the honour of conducting the marquis 
 through Russia. The count's accomphshed kinswoman, the 
 amiable and learned widow of Baron Surowkoff, even then 
 took particular notice of me ; and when I returned with 
 you to St. Petersburgh, I did not find that my short absence 
 had obliterated me from her memory. 
 
 i, " You are well acquainted with the dignity of that lady's 
 opinions on political subjects. She and I coincided in 
 ardour for the cause of insulted Russia, and in hatred of
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 53 
 
 that levelling power which pervades all Europe. Many 
 have been the long and interesting conversations we have 
 held on the prosecution of those schemes, which her late 
 husband had so principal a hand in laying, for the sub- 
 version of the miserable kingdom in which you now are. 
 
 " The baroness, I need not observe, is as handsome as 
 she is ingenious ; her imderstanding is as masculine as her 
 person is desirable ; and I had been more or less than man, 
 if I had not understood that my figure and talents were 
 agreeable to her. I cannot say that she absolutely pi-o- 
 mised me her hand, but she went as far that way as delicacy 
 would permit. I am thus circumstantial, Mr. Somerset, to 
 show you that I do not proceed without proof. She has 
 repeatedly said in my presence that she would never marry 
 any man, unless he were not only well- looking, but of the 
 profoundest erudition, united with an acquaintance with 
 men and manners which none could dispute. ' Besides,' 
 added she, ' he must not differ with me one tittle in politics : 
 for on that head I hold myself second to no man or woman 
 in Europe.' And then she has complimented me, by de- 
 claring that I possessed more jucUcious sentiments on 
 government than any man in St. Petersburg!! ; and that 
 she should consider herself happy, on the first vacancy in 
 the imperial college, to introduce me at court, where she 
 was sure the empress would at once discover the value of 
 my talents : but,' she continued, ' in such a case, I will 
 not allow that even her majesty shall rival me in your 
 esteem.' The modesty natural to my character told me 
 these praises must have some other source than my com- 
 paratively unequal abilities ; and I unequivocally found it 
 in the partiality with which her ladyship condescended to 
 regard me. 
 
 " Wan I to blame, I\Ir. Somerset ? Would not any man 
 of sensibility and honour have comprehended such advances 
 from a woman of her rank and reputation ? I could not 
 be mistaken, her looks and words needed no explanation 
 W'hich my judgment could not pronounce. Though I am 
 aware that I do not possess that lumen jmrpureum juventtE 
 which attracts very young, uneducated women, yet I am 
 not much turned of fifty ; and from the baroness's singular 
 E 3
 
 54 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAVr. 
 
 behaviour, I had every reason to expect handsomer treat- 
 ment than she has been pleased to dispense to me since my 
 return. 
 
 "But to proceed regularly — (I must beg your pardon 
 for the warmth which has hurried me to this digression): 
 you know, sir, that from the hour in which I had the 
 honour of taking leave of your noble family in England, I 
 strove to impress upon your rather volatile mind a just 
 and accurate conception of the people amongst whom I was 
 to conduct you. When I brought you into this extensive 
 empire, I left no means unexerted to heighten your respect, 
 not only for its amiable sovereign, but for all regal powers. 
 It is the characteristic of genius to be zealous : I was so, 
 in favour of the pretensions of the great Catharine to that 
 paltry country in which you now are, and to which she 
 deigned to offer her protection. To this zeal, and my un- 
 fortunate, though honourable devotion to the wishes of the 
 baroness, I am constrained to date my present dilemma. 
 
 " When Poland had the insolence to rebel against its 
 illustrious mistress, you remember that every man of rank 
 in St. Petersburgh was highly incensed. The Baroness 
 Surowkoff declared herself frequently, and with vehemence; 
 she appealed to me ; my veracity and my principles were 
 called forth, and I confessed that I thought every friend 
 to the Tzaritza ought to take up arms against that un- 
 grateful people. The Count Branicki was then appointed 
 to command the Russian forces ; and her ladyship, very 
 unexpectedly on my part, answered me by approving what 
 I said ; and saying, that of course I meant to follow her 
 cousin into Poland ; for that even she, as a woman, was so 
 earnest in the cause, she would accompany him to the fron- 
 tiers, and there await the result. 
 
 " What could I do ? IIow could I withstand the ex- 
 pectations of a lady of her quality, and one who, I believed, 
 loved me ? However, for some time I did oppose my wish 
 to oblige her; I urged my cloth, and the impossibility of 
 accounting for such a line of conduct to the father of my 
 pupil ? The baroness ridiculed all these arguments as 
 mere excuses ; and ended with saying, ' Do as you please, 
 Mr. Loftus. 1 have been deceived in your character ; the
 
 THADDEL'S OF WARSAW. 55 
 
 friend of the Baroness Surowkoft' must be consistent ; he 
 must be as willing to fight for the cause he espouses as to 
 speak for it: in this case, the sword must follow the ora- 
 tion, else we shall see Poland in the hands of a rabble.' 
 
 " This decided me. I offered my services to the count, 
 to attend him to the field. He and the young lords per- 
 suaded you to do the same ; and as I could not think of 
 leaving you, when your father had placed you inider my 
 charge, I was pleased to find that my approval confirmed 
 your wish to turn soldier. I was not then acquainted, 
 Mr. Somerset (for you did not tell me of it until we were 
 far advanced into Poland), with Sir Robert's and my lady's 
 dislike of the army. This has been a prime source of my 
 error : had I known their repugnance to your taking up 
 arms, my duty would have triumphed over even my de- 
 votion to the baroness ; but I was born under a melancholy 
 horoscope ; nothing happens as any one of my humblest 
 wishes might warrant. 
 
 " At the first onset of the battle, I became so suddenly ill 
 that I was obliged to retire ; and on this unfortunate event, 
 which was completely unwilled on my part (for no man 
 can command the periods of sickness), the baroness founds 
 a contempt which has disconcerted all my schemes. Be- 
 sides, when I attempted to remonstrate with her ladyship 
 on the promise which, if not directly given, was implied, 
 she laughed at me ; and when I persisted in my suit, all at 
 once, like the rest of her ungrateful, undistinguishing sex, 
 she burst into a tempest of invectives, and forbade me her 
 house. 
 
 " "What am I now to do, Mr. Somerset ? This incon- 
 sistent Avoman has betrayed me into a conduct diametrically 
 opposite to the commands of your family. Your father 
 particularly desired that I Avould not suffer you to go either 
 into Hungary or Poland. In the last instance I have per- 
 mitted you to disobey him. And my Lady Somerset (who 
 lost both her father and brother in different engagements), 
 you tell me, hath declared that she never would pardon the 
 man who should put military ideas into your head. 
 
 " Therefore, sir, though you are my pupil, I throw my- 
 self on your generosity. If you persist in acquainting your 
 E 4
 
 56 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 family with the late transactions at Ziehme, and your pre- 
 sent residence in Poland, I shall finally be ruined. I shall 
 not only forfeit the good opinion of your father and mother, 
 but lose all prospect of the living of Somerset ; which Sir 
 Robert was so gracious as to promise should be mine on 
 the demise of the present incumbent. You know, Mr. 
 Somerset, that I have a mother and six sisters in Wales, 
 whose support depends on my success in life ; if my pre- 
 ferment be stopped now, they must necessarily be involved 
 in a distress which makes me shudder. 
 
 " I cannot add more, sir ; I know your generosity, and 
 I therefore rest upon it. I shall detain the letter which 
 you did me the honour to enclose for my Lady Somerset 
 till I receive your decision ; and ever, whilst I live, will I 
 henceforth remain firm to my old and favourite maxim, 
 which I adopted from the glorious epistle of Horace to 
 Numicius. Perhaps you may not recollect the lines ? 
 They run thus : — 
 
 Nil admirari, prope res est una, Niimici, 
 Solaque, qua' possit facere et servare beatuin. 
 
 " I have the honour to be, 
 " Dear Sir, 
 " Your most obedient servant, 
 
 " Andrew Loftus. 
 " St. Petershurgh, September, 1792." 
 
 " P. S. Just as I was sealing this packet, the English 
 ambassador forwarded to me a short letter from your father, 
 in which he desires us to quit Russia, and to make the 
 best of our way to England, where you are wanted on a 
 most urgent occasion. He explains himself no farther ; 
 only repeating his orders in express commands that we set 
 off instantly. I wait your directions." 
 
 This epistle disconcerted Mr. Somerset. He always 
 guessed the Baroness SurowkofF was amusing herself with 
 his vain and pedantic preceptor ; but he never entertained 
 a suspicion that her ladyship would carry her pleasantry to 
 so cruel an excess. He clearly saw that the fears of Mr. 
 Loftus, with regard to the displeasure of his parents, were 
 far from groundless ; and therefore, as there was a proba-
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 57 
 
 billty, from the age of Dr. ^Manners, that the rectory of 
 Somerset would soon become vacant, he tliought it better to 
 obhge his poor governor, and preserve the secret for a 
 month or two, than to give him up to the indignation of 
 Sir Robert. On these grounds, Pembroke resolved to write 
 to j\Ir. Loftus, and ease tlie anxiety of his heart. Ahhough 
 he ri(Hculed his vanity, he could not help respecting the 
 affectionate solicitude of a son and a brother ; and, as that 
 plea had won him, half angry, half grieved, and half laugh- 
 ing, he despatched a few hasty lines. 
 
 ; " To the Reverend Andrew Loftus, St. Petershurgh. 
 
 " What whimsical fit, my dear sir, has seized my father, 
 that I am recalled at a moment's notice } Faith, I am so 
 mad at the summons, and at his not deigning to assign a 
 reason for his order, that I do not know how I may be 
 tempted to act. 
 
 " Another thing ! you beg of me not to say a word of 
 my having been in Poland ; and for that purpose you have 
 withheld the letter which I sent to you to forward to my 
 mother ! You offer far-fetched and precious excuses, for 
 having betrayed your own wisdom, and your pupil's inno- 
 cence, into so mortal an offence. One cause of my being 
 liere, you say, was your ' ardour in the cause of insulted 
 Russia, and your hatred of that leveUing power which 
 pervades all Europe.' 
 
 " AV^ell, I grant it. I understood from you and Branicki 
 that you were leading me against a set of violent, discon- 
 tented men of rank, who, in projiortion as they were in- 
 flated with personal pride and insolence, despised their own 
 order ; and, under the name of freedom, were introducing 
 anarchy throughout a country which Catharine would gra- 
 ciously have protected. All this J. find is false. But both 
 of you may have been misled ; the count by partiality, and 
 you by misrepresentation ; therefore I do not perceive why 
 you should be in such a terror. The wisest man in the 
 world may see through bad lights ; and why should you 
 think my father would never pardon you for having been 
 so unlucky ? 
 
 " Yet to dispel your dread of such tidings ruining you
 
 58 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 with Sir Robert, I will not be the first to tell him of our 
 quixoting. Only remember, my good sir! — though, to 
 oblige you, I withhold all my letters to my mother, and 
 when I arrive in England shall lock up my lips from men- 
 tioning Poland, yet positively I will not be mute one day 
 longer than that in which my father presents you with the 
 living of Somerset ; then you will be independent of his 
 displeasure, and I may, and will, declare my everlasting 
 gratitude to this illustrious family. 
 
 " I am half mad when I think of leaving them. I must 
 tear myself from this mansion of comfort and affection, to 
 wander with you in some rumbling old barouche ' over 
 brake mid through briar. '' Well, patience ! Another such 
 drubbing given to my quondam friends of the Neva, and 
 with ' victory perched like an eagle on their laurelled brows,' 
 I may have some chance of wooing the Sobieskis to the 
 banks of the Thames. At present, I have not sufficient 
 hope to keep me in good humour. 
 
 " Meet me this day week at Dantzic : I shall there 
 embark for England. You had best not bring any of the 
 servants with you ; they might blab : discharge them at 
 Petersburgh, and hire others for yourself and me when you 
 arrive at the sea-port. 
 
 " 1 have the honour to remain, 
 " Dear sir, 
 " Your most obedient servant, 
 
 " Pembroke Sosierset. 
 " Villanow, September, 1792." 
 
 When Somerset joined his friends at supper, and im- 
 parted to them the commands of his father, an immediate 
 change was produced in the spirits of the party. During 
 the lamentations of the ladies and the murmurs of the young 
 men, the countess tried to dispel the effects of the inform- 
 ation, by addressing Pembroke with a smile, and saying, 
 " But we hope that you have seen enough at Villanow, to 
 tempt you back again at no very distant period ? Tell 
 Lady Somerset you have left a second mother in Poland, 
 who will long to receive another visit from her adopted 
 son."
 
 TIIADDEVS OF WARSAW. 59 
 
 '' Yes, my dear madam/' returned lie ; " and I shall 
 hope before a very distant period to see those two kind 
 mothers united as intimately by friendship as they are in 
 my heart." 
 
 Thaddeus listened with a saddened countenance. He 
 had not been accustomed to disappointment ; and when he 
 met it now, he hardly knew how to projiortion his uneasi- 
 ness to the privation. Hope and all the hilarities of youth 
 flourished in his soul ; his features continually glowed with 
 animation, whilst the gay beaming of his eyes ever an- 
 swered to the smile on his lips. Hence the slightest veer- 
 ing of his mind was perceptible to the countess, who, turning 
 round, saw him leaning thoughtfully in his chair ; whilst 
 Pembroke, with increasing vehemence, was running through 
 various invectives against the hastiness of his recall. 
 
 " Come, come, Thaddeus!" cried she, "let us think no 
 more of this separation until it arrives. You know that 
 anticipation of evil is the death of happiness ; and it will 
 be a kind of suicide, should we destroy the hours we may 
 yet enjoy together, in vain complainings they are so soon 
 to terminate." 
 
 A little exhortation from the countess, and a maternal 
 kiss which she imprinted on his cheek, restored him to 
 cheerfulness ; and the evening past away pleasanter than 
 it had portended. 
 
 IMuch as the palatine esteemed Pembroke Somerset, his 
 mind was too deeply absorbed in the losses of his country 
 to attend to less considerable cares. He beheld his country, 
 even on the verge of destruction, awaiting with firmness 
 the approach of the earthquake which was to ingulph it in 
 the neighbouring nations. He saw the storm lowering ; 
 but he determined, whilst there remained one spot of van- 
 tage ground above the general wreck, that Poland should 
 yet have a name and a defender. These thoughts pos- 
 sessed him ; these plans engaged him ; and he had not 
 leisure to regret pleasure, when he was struggling for 
 existence. 
 
 The empress continued to pour her armies into the heart 
 of the kingdom. The King of Prussia, boldly flying from 
 his treaties, refused it his succour ; and the emperor of
 
 60 
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 Germany, following the example of so great a prince, did 
 not blush to show that his word was equally contemptible. 
 
 Despatches daily arrived of the villages being laid waste ; 
 that neither age, sex, nor situation prevented their unfortu- 
 nate inhabitants becoming the victims of cruelty; and that 
 all the frontier provinces were in flames. 
 
 The diet was called*, and the debates agitated with the 
 anxiety of men who were met to decide on their dearest 
 interests. The bosom of the benevolent Stanislaus bled at 
 the dreadful picture of his people's sufferings ; and, hardly 
 able to restrain his tears, he answered the animated exor- 
 diums of Sobieski for resistance to the last, with an appeal 
 immediately to his heart. 
 
 " What is it that you urge me to do, my lord ? '" said 
 he. " Was it not to secure the happiness of my subjects 
 that I laboured ? and finding my design impracticable, 
 what advantage would it be to them, should I pertinaciously 
 oppose their small numbers to the accumulated hordes of 
 the north ? What is my kingdom but the comfort of my 
 people ? What will it avail me to see them fall around me, 
 man by man ; and the few who remain hanging in speech- 
 less sorrow over their graves ? Such a sight would break 
 my heart. Poland without its people would be a desert, 
 and I a hermit rather than a king." 
 
 In vain the palatine combated this argument, and the 
 quiet which a peace would afford, by declaring it could 
 only be temporary. In vain he told his majesty, that he 
 would jiurchase safety for the present race, at the vast ex- 
 pense of not only the liberty of posterity, but of its probity 
 and happiness. 
 
 " However you disguise slavery," cried he, ^''it is slavery 
 still. Its chains, though wreathed with roses, not only 
 fasten on the body but rivet on the mind. They bend it 
 from the loftiest virtue, to a debasement beneath calculation. 
 They disgrace honour ; they trample upon justice. They 
 transform the legions of Rome into a band of singers. 
 They prostrate the sons of Athens and of Sparta at the 
 feet of cowards. They make man abjure his birthright, 
 
 * The constitutional diet of Poland nearly answers, in principle, to the British 
 three estates in parliament, of king, lords, and commons.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. Gl 
 
 biml himself to anotlier's will, and give tliat into a tyrant's 
 hands which he received as a deposit from heaven — his 
 reason, his conscience, and his soul. Think on this, and 
 then, if you can, subjugate Poland to her enemies." 
 
 Stanislaus, weakened by years, and subdued by disap- 
 pointment, now retained no higher wish than to save his 
 subjects from immediate outrage. He did not answer the 
 palatine ; but, with streaming eyes, bent over the table, and 
 annulled the glorious constitution of 1791- Then, with 
 emotions hardly sliort of agony, he signed an order pre- 
 sented by a Russian officer, which directed Prince Ponia- 
 towski to deliver the army under his command into the 
 hands of General Branicki. 
 
 As the king put his signature to these papers, Sobieski, 
 who had strenuously withstood each decision, started from 
 his chair, bowed to his sovereign, and in silence left the 
 apartment. Several noblemen followed him. 
 
 These pacific measures did not meet with better treat- 
 ment from without. Allien they were noised abroad, an 
 alarming commotion arose amongst the inhabitants of 
 AFarsaw ; and nearly four thousand men of the first fami- 
 lies in the kingdom assembled themselves in the park of 
 Mllanow, and with tumultuous eagerness, declared their 
 resolution to resist the power of their combined ravagers 
 to the utmost. The Prince Saj^ieha, Kosciuszko, and So- 
 bieski, with the brave Dombrowski, were the first who 
 took the oath of eternal fideiity to Poland ; and they admi- 
 nistered it to Thaddeus, who, kneeling down, called on 
 heaven to hear him, as he swore to assert the freedom of 
 his country to the last gasp of its existence. 
 
 In the midst of these momentous affairs, Pembroke 
 Somerset bade adieu to his friends ; and set sail with his 
 governor from Dantzic for England.
 
 62 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 CHAPTER VII- 
 
 Those winter months, which before this year had been at 
 Villanow the season for cheerfulness and festivity, now 
 rolled away in the sad pomp of national debates and mili- 
 tary assemblies. 
 
 Prussia usurped the best part of Pomerelia, and gar- 
 risoned it with troops ; Catharine declared her dominion 
 over the vast tract of land which lies between the Dvvina 
 and Borysthenes ; and Frederic ^Filliam marked down an- 
 other sweep of Poland, to follow the fate of Dantzic and of 
 Thorn. 
 
 Calamities, insults, and robberies were heaped, day after 
 day, on the defenceless Poles. The deputies of the pro- 
 vinces were put into prison ; and the Russian ambassador 
 had the insolence even to interrupt provisions intended for 
 the > king's table, and appropriate them to his own. So- 
 bieski remonstrated on this outrage; but incensed at reproof, 
 and irritated at the sway which the palatine still held at 
 court, he issued an order for all the Sobieski estates in Li- 
 thuania and Podolia to be sequestrated, and divided between 
 four of the Russian generals. 
 
 In vain the Villanow confederation endeavoured to re- 
 monstrate with the empress. Her ambassador not only 
 refused to forward the despatches, but threatened the nobles, 
 " if they did not comply with every one of his demands, 
 he would lay all the estates, possessions, and habitations of 
 the members of the diet under an immediate military ex- 
 ecution. Nay, punishment should not stop there ; for if 
 the king joined the Sobieski party (to which he now ap- 
 peared inclined), the royal domains should not only meet 
 the same fate, but harsher treatment shoidd follow, until 
 both the people and their proud sovereign were brought 
 into subjection." 
 
 These menaces were too arrogant to liave any other 
 effect upon the Poles, than that of giving a new spur to 
 their resolution. With the same firmness they repulsed 
 similar fulminations from the Prussian ambassador ; and.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 63 
 
 with a coolness which was only equalled hy their intrepidity, 
 they prepared to resume their arms. 
 
 Hearing by private information that his threats were de- 
 spised, next morninp; before day-break, the insolent Rus- 
 sian surrounded the building where the confederation was 
 sitting, with two battalions of grenadiers and four pieces of 
 cannon ; and then issued orders that no Pole should pass 
 the gates without being fired on. General Rautenfeld, who 
 was set over the person of the king, declared that not even 
 his majesty should stir until the diet had given an unani- 
 mous and full consent to the empress's commands. 
 
 The (liet set forth the unlawfulness of signing any treaty 
 whilst thus withheld from the freedom of will and debate. 
 They urged that it was not legal to enter into deliberation, 
 when violence had recently been exerted against any indivi- 
 dual of their body ; and how could they do it now, deprived 
 as they were of five of their principal members, whom the 
 ambassador well knew he had arrested in their way to the 
 senate ? Sobieski and four of his friends, being the mem- 
 bers most inimical to the wishes of Russia, were these five. 
 In vain their liberation was required ; and enraged at the 
 pertinacity of this opposition, Rautenfeld repeated his for- 
 mer threatenings with the addition of more ; swearing they 
 should take place without appeal, if the diet did not, di- 
 rectly and unconditionally, sign the pretensions both of his 
 court and that of Prussia. 
 
 After a hard contention of many hours, at last the mem- 
 bers agreed amongst themselves to make a solemn public 
 protest against the present tyrannous measures of the Rus- 
 sian ambassador ; and seeing that any attempt to inspire 
 him even with decency was useless, they determined to 
 cease all debate, and keep a profound silence when the 
 marshal should propose the project in demand. 
 
 This sorrowful silence was commenced in resentment, 
 and retained through despair ; this sorrowfid silence was 
 called by their usurpers a consent ; this sorrowful silence 
 is held up to the world, and to posterity, as a free cession 
 of the Poles of all those riglits which they had received 
 from nature, and defended with their blood. 
 
 The morning after this dreadful day, the senate met at
 
 64 THADDEUS OF WARSAAV'. 
 
 one of the private palaces ; and, indignant and broken- 
 heartedj they delivered the following declaration to the 
 people: — 
 
 " The diet of Poland, hemmed in by foreign troops, 
 menaced with an invasion which would be attended by 
 universal ruin, and finally insulted by a thousand outrages, 
 have been forced to witness the signing of a treaty with 
 Prussia. 
 
 " They strenuously endeavoured to add to that treaty 
 some conditions, to which they supposed the lamentable 
 state of this country would have extorted an acquiescence, 
 even from the heart of power. But the diet were deceived : 
 they found that power was unaccompanied by humanity ; 
 they found that Prussia, having thi-own his victim to the 
 ground, would not refrain from exulting in the barbarous 
 triumph of trampling upon her neck. 
 
 " The diet rely on the justice of Poland ; rely on her 
 belief, that they would not betray the citadel she confided 
 to their keejnng ; her preservation is dearer to them than 
 their lives : but fate seems to be on the side of their de- 
 stroyer. Fresh insults have been heaped upon their heads, 
 and new hardships have been imposed upon them. To 
 prevent all deUberations on this debasing treaty, they are 
 not only surrounded by foreign troops, and dared with 
 hostile messages, but they have been violated by the arrest 
 of their prime members ; whilst those who are stiU suffered 
 to possess a personal freedom have the most galling shackles 
 laid upon their minds. 
 
 " Therefore I, the King of Poland, enervated by age, 
 and sinking under the accumulated weight of afflictions ; 
 and also we, the members of the diet, declare, that being 
 unable, even by the sacrifice of our lives, to relieve our 
 country from the yoke of its oppressors, we consign it to 
 posterity. 
 
 " In another age, means may be found to rescue it from 
 chains and misery ; but such means are not in our power. 
 Other countries neglect us : whilst they reprobate the vio- 
 lations which a neighbouring nation is alleged to have 
 committed against rational liberty, they behold not only
 
 TnAPDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 65 
 
 Vfith apathy hut with approbation, the ravages which are 
 desolating Poland. I'ostcrity must avenge it ; we have 
 done. M'c accede, foi- the reasons above mentioned, to the 
 treaty laid before us ; though we declare, that it is contrary 
 to our Avi>>hcs, to our sentiments^ and to our rights." 
 
 Thus, in November, ITJ)"^ — compressed to one fourth 
 of her dimensions, by the lines of demarcation drawn 
 by her cneinics, Toland was strijiped of her rank in 
 Europe ; the lands of her nobles given to strangers ; and 
 her citizens left to perish in chains. Ill-fated nation ! Pos- 
 terity will weep over thy wrongs ; whilst the l)urning blush 
 of shame that their fathers witnessed such wrongs un- 
 moved, shall cause the tears to blister as they fall.* 
 
 During these transactions, the countess Sobieski continued 
 in solitude at Villanow, awaiting with awful anxiety the 
 termination of those portentous events, which so deeply in- 
 volved her own comforts ^\ith those of her country. Her 
 father was in prison, lier son at a distance with the army. 
 Sick at heart, she saAv the opening of that spring, which 
 might be the commencement only of a new season of in- 
 juries ; and her fears were proi)hctie. 
 
 Those soldiers who had dared to retain their arms in their 
 hands, were again ordered by the Russian ambassador to lay 
 them down. Some few, tliiiiking denial vain, obeyed; but 
 bolder sjiirits followed Thaddcus Sobieski into South Prussia; 
 whither he had directed his stejjs on the arrest of his grand- 
 father ; and where he had gathered and kept together a 
 handful of brave men still faithful to their liberties. His 
 name alone collected numbers in every district through 
 which he marched. Persecution from their adversary, as 
 well as admiration of Thaddeus, gave a resistless jiower to 
 his appearance, look, and voice ; all which had such an 
 effect on the people, they crowded to his standard by hun- 
 dreds ; whilst their lords, having caught a similar fire from 
 the ardour of the young count, committed themselves with- 
 out reserve to his sole judgment and command. The Em- 
 press, hearing of this, ordered Stanislaus to command him 
 
 ♦ " O ! bloDdiost pirturc in the book of time ; 
 " Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime ! " 
 
 Campl/cll
 
 66 
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 to disband his troops. But the king refusing, she aug- 
 mented the strength of her own forces ; and enraged at so 
 stubborn a resistance^ renewed the war with redoubled 
 energy. 
 
 Tlie palatine remained in confinement, hopeless of ob- 
 taining release without the aid of stratagem. The emissa- 
 ries of Catharine were too %vell aware of their interest to give 
 freedom to so active an opponent. They loaded him with 
 irons and insult; — but in spite of their arts, this patriotic 
 victim to vintlictive tyranny received every consolation 
 which can soothe a brave man (his own arms being tied 
 from serving his country), in the information which the 
 blind malice of his jailors hourly brought to his ears. 
 They told him, " that his grandson continued to carry 
 himself with such insolent opposition in the south, it 
 would be well if the empress, at the termination of the 
 war, allowed him to escape with eternal banishment to 
 Siberia." Every reproach which was levelled at the pala- 
 tine, he found had been bought by some new conquest of 
 Thaddeus ; and instead of permitting their mahgnity to 
 intimidate his age, or alarm his affection, he told the 
 officer, (whose daily office was to attend and to torment 
 him,) that, if his grandson were to lose his head for fide- 
 lity to Poland, he should behold him with as proud an eye 
 mounting the scaffold, as entering the streets of AFarsaw 
 with Russia at his chariot wheels. " The only difference 
 would be," continued Sobieski, " that, as the first cannot 
 happen until aU virtue be dead in this land, I shovild regard 
 his last gasp as the expiring sigh of that virtue, which, by 
 him, had found a triumph even under the axe. And for 
 the second, — it would be joy unutterable to behold the 
 victory of justice over rapine and murder ! But, either 
 way, Thaddeus Sobieski is still the same ; ready to die, or 
 ready to live, for his country — and equally worthy of the 
 the eternal halo, with which posterity will encircle his 
 name." 
 
 Indeed, the accounts whicli arrived from this young 
 soldier, who had formed a junction Avith General Kosci- 
 uszko, were in the highest degree formidable to the coa- 
 lesced powers Having gained several advantages over the
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 6? 
 
 Prussians, his troops were advancing towards Inowlotz, 
 when a large and fresh body of the enemy appeared closely 
 on their rear. The fugitives on the opposite bank of the 
 river (whom the Poles were ilriving before them), at sight 
 of this reinforcement suddenly rallied ; and to retard the 
 approach of their ])ursuers, and ensure their defeat from 
 the army in view, they broke down the wooden bridge by 
 which they might have escaped. The Poles were at a 
 stand. Kosciuszko proposed swimming across ; but owing 
 to the recent heavy rains the river was so swoln and rapid 
 that the young men to whom he mentioned the j'roject, 
 terrified by the blackness and dashing of the water, drew 
 back. The general perceiving their panic, called Thaddeus 
 to him, and both plunged into the stream. Ashamed of 
 hesitation, the others now tried who could first follow their 
 example; and, after hard buffeting with the waves, the 
 whole army gained the opposite shore. The Prussians who 
 were in the rear, incapable of the like intrepidity, halted ; 
 and those in the van^ intimidated at the daring courage of 
 their adversaries, concealed themselves amidst the thickets 
 of an adjoining valley. 
 
 The two friends proceeded towards Cracow, carrying 
 redress and protection to the provinces through which they 
 marched. But they had hardly rested two days in that 
 city before desjiatches were received, that ^Varsaw was lying 
 at the mercy of General Branicki. No time could be lost ; 
 officers and men had set their lives on the cause ; and they 
 recommenced their toils with a perseverance which brought 
 them before the capital on the l6th of April. 
 
 Tilings were in a worse state than even was expected. 
 The Russian ambassador, with his usual arrogance, had 
 not only demanded the surrender of the national arsenal, 
 but subscribed his orders with a threat, that whoever of 
 the nobles presumed to dispute his authority should be 
 arrested and put to death ; and if the people should dare 
 to murmur, he would immediately command General Bra- 
 nicki to lay the city in ashes. 
 
 The king remonstrated against such oppression ; and to 
 " punhh his presumption," this proper representative of 
 the imperial Catharine ordered that his majesty's garrison 
 F 2
 
 68 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 and guards slioxild be instantly broken and dispersed. At 
 the first attempt to execute this mandate the people flew in 
 crowds to the palace, and, falling on their knees, implored 
 Stanislaus for permission to avenge the insult offered to his 
 troops. His majesty lookeil at them with pity, gratitude, 
 and anguish ; for some time his emotions were too strong 
 to allow him to speak ; at last, in a voice of agony, which 
 was wrung from his tortured heart, he answered, " Go, 
 and defend your honour !" 
 
 The army of Kosciuszko marched into the town at this 
 critical moment ; they joined the armed citizens ; and that 
 day, after a dreadful conflict, ^Farsaw was rescued from 
 the immediate grasp of Russia. During the fight, the 
 king, who was alone in one of the rooms of his palace, 
 sunk almost fainting on the floor ; he heard the minghng 
 clash of arms, the roar of musquetry, and the cries and 
 groans of the combatants ; ruin seemed no longer to hover 
 over his kingdom, but to have pounced at once xipon her 
 prey. At every renewed volley, which followed each pause 
 in the firing, he expected to see his palace-gates burst 
 open, and himself, then indeed made a willing sacrifice to 
 the fury of his enemies. 
 
 While he was yet upon his knees, petitioning the God 
 of battles for a little longer respite from that doom which 
 was to overwhelm devoted Poland, Thaddeus Sobieski, 
 panting with heat and toil, flew into the room ; and before 
 he could speak a word, was clasped iu the arms of the agi- 
 tated Stanislaus. 
 
 " Are my people safe ? " asked the king. 
 
 " And victorious !" returned Thaddeus. " The foreign 
 guards are beaten from the palace; — your own have re- 
 sumed their station at the gates." 
 
 At this assurance tears of joy ran over the venerable 
 checks of his majesty ; and again embracing his young 
 dehverer, he exclaimed, " I thank Heaven, my unhappy 
 cou\itry is not bereft of all hope ! AVhilst Kosciuszko and 
 a Sobieski live, she will not quite despair."
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 (>9 
 
 Thaddeus was not less eager to release his gi-anclfather, 
 than he had been to relieve the anxiety of his sovereign. 
 lie hastened at the head of a few troops to the j)rison of 
 Sobicski, and gave him liberty amidst the acclamations of 
 his soldiers. 
 
 The universal joy at these prosperous events did not last 
 many days : it Avas speedily terminated by information, 
 that Cra(X)w ha<l surrendered to a Prussian force ; the king 
 of Prussia was achancing towards the ca})ital ; and that the 
 Russians, more iini)lacable in conscijuence of the late treat- 
 ment their garrison had received at A\'arsaw, were pouring 
 into the country like a deluge. 
 
 At this intelligence, the consternation became dreadful. 
 The Polonese army, worn witli fatigue and long services, 
 and without clothing or ammunition, were not in any way, 
 excepting courage, fitted for the field. 
 
 The treasury was exhausted; and means of raising a 
 supply seemed impracticable. The provinces were laid 
 waste, and the city had already been drained of its last 
 ducat. In this exigency, a council met in His Majesty's 
 cabinet, to devise some expedient for obtaining resources. 
 The consultation was as des[)onding as their situation, untU 
 Thaddeus Sobieski, who had been a silent observer, rose 
 from his seat. Sudden indisposition had prevented the 
 Palatine attending, but his grandson knew well how to be 
 his substitute. A\'lnlst Idushes of awe and eagerness crim- 
 soned his cheek, he advanced towards Stanislaus ; and 
 taking from his neck, and other parts of his dress, those 
 magnificent jewels it was customary to wear in the pi-e- 
 sence of the king, he knelt down, and laying them at the 
 feet of his Majesty, said in a suppressed voice, " These 
 are trifles ; but such as they are, and all of the like kind 
 which I possess, I beseech your Majesty to appropriate to 
 the public service." 
 
 " Noble young man !" cried the king, raising him from 
 the ground ; '' you have indeed taught me a lesson : I ac- 
 p 3
 
 70 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 cept these jewels with gratitude. Here/' said he^ turning 
 to the treasurer, " put them into the national fund ; and 
 let them be followed by my own, with my plate ; which 
 latter, I desire may be instantly sent to the mint. One 
 half, the army shall have ; the other we must expend in 
 giving some little support to the surviving families of the 
 brave men who have fallen in our defence." The Palatine 
 readily united with his grandson, in the surrender of aU 
 their personal property, for the benefit of their country : 
 and according to their example, the treasury was soon 
 filled with gratuities from the nobles. The very artisans 
 offered their services gratis ; and, all hands being employed 
 to forward the preparations, the army was soon enabled to 
 take the field, newly equipped, and in high spirits. 
 
 The Countess had again to bid adieu to a son, who was 
 now become as much the object of her admiration, as of her 
 love. In proportion as glory surrounded him, and danger 
 courted his steps, the strings of affection drew him closer 
 to her soul; the " aspiring blood" of the Sobieskies, which 
 beat in her veins, coidd not drown the feelings of a parent; 
 could not cause her to forget, that the spring of her exist- 
 ence now flowed from the fountain, which had taken its 
 source from her. Her anxious and waiting heart paid 
 dearly in tears and sleepless nights, for the honour with 
 which she was saluted at every turning, as the mother of 
 Thaddeus : that Thaddeus, who was not more the spirit of 
 enterprise, and the rallying point of resistance, than he was 
 to her, the gentlest, the dearest, the most amiable of sons. 
 It matters not to the undistinguishing bolt of carnage, 
 whether it strike common breasts, or those rare hearts, whose 
 lives are usually as brief as they are dazzling ; this leaden 
 messenger of death, banquets as greedily on the bosom of a 
 hero, as if it had lit upon more vulgar prey : all is levelled 
 to the chance of war ; which comes like a whirlwind of the 
 desert, scattering man and beast in one wide ruin. 
 
 Such thoughts as these possessed the melancholy reveries 
 of the Countess Sobieski, from the hour in which she saw 
 Thaddeus and his grandfather depart for Cracow, until 
 she heard that it was retaken, and that the enemy were 
 defeated in many battles.
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW 71 
 
 Warsaw was again bombarded ; and again Kosciuszko, 
 with the Palatine, and Thaddeus, preserved it from de- 
 struction. In sliort, wherever they moved, this dauntless 
 little army carried terror to their adversaries ; and diffused 
 hope through the homes and hearts of their countrymen. 
 
 They next turned their course to the relief of Lithuania ; 
 but whilst they were on their route thither, they received 
 intelligence that a detachment from their body having 
 been beaten by the Russians under Suwarrow, that General, 
 elated with success^ was hastening forwards, to re-attack 
 the capital. 
 
 Kosciuszko, resolved to prevent him, prepared to give 
 immediate battle to Ferfen, another Russian commander, 
 who was on his march to form a junction with his victo- 
 rious countrymen. To this effect, Kosciuszko divided his 
 forces : half of them, under the command of Prince Ponia- 
 towski, were to pursue Suwarrow, and keep a watchful eye 
 over his motions ; whilst Kosciuszko, accompanied by the 
 two Sobieskies^ would proceed with the remainder towards 
 Brzesc 
 
 It was the tenth of October. The weather being fine, 
 a cloudless sun diffused life and brilliancy through the 
 pure air of a keen morning. The vast green plain before 
 them glittered with the troops of General Ferfen, who had 
 already arranged them in order of battle. 
 
 The word was given. Thaddeus, as he drew his sabre 
 from his scabbard, raised his eyes to implore the justice of 
 Heaven on that day's events. The attack was made. The 
 Poles kept their station on the heights. Twice the Russians 
 rusheil on them like wolves, and twice they repulsed them 
 by their steadiness. Conquest declared for Poland. Thad- 
 deus was seen in every part of the field. But reinforce- 
 ments poured in to the support of Ferfen, and war raged 
 in new horrors. Still the courage of the Poles was una- 
 bated. Sobieski, fighting at the head of the infantry, 
 would not recede one foot : and Kosciuszko, exhorting his 
 men to be resolute, appeared in the hottest places of the 
 battle. 
 
 At one of these portentous moments, the commander-in- 
 chief was seen struggling with the third charger, which 
 r 4
 
 72 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 had been shot under liiin that day. Thaddeus galloped to 
 his assistance, and giving him his horse, mounted another 
 whicli was ofTered by a soldier, and remained fighting by 
 his side, till on the next charge, Kosciuszko himself fell 
 on the neck of his horse. Thaddeus caught him in his 
 arms ; and finding that his breast was innnediatcly covered 
 with blood (a Cossac having stabbed the General in the 
 back), he unconsciously uttered a groan of horror. The 
 surrounding soldiers took the alarm, and " Kosciuszkoj 
 our General, is killed!" was echoed from rank to rank 
 with such piercing shrieks, that the wounded hero started 
 from the breast of his young friend, just as two Russian 
 chasseurs, in the same moment, m.ade a cut at them both. 
 The sabre struck the exposed head of Kosciuszko, who 
 fell senseless to the ground ; and Thaddeus received a gash 
 in his slioulder that laid him by his side. 
 
 The consternation became universal ; groans of despair 
 seemed to issue from the whole army, whilst the few 
 resolute Poles who had been stationed near the fallen 
 General, fell in mangled heaps upon his breast. Thaddeus 
 with difficulty extricated liimsclf from the bodies of the 
 slain ; and fighting his way through the triumphant troops 
 which pressed around him, he joined his terror-stricken 
 comrades ; who, in the wildest confusion, were dispersing 
 under a heavy fire, and flying like frighted deer. In vaia 
 he called to them ; in vain he urged them to avenge 
 Kosciuszko ; the panic was complete, and they fled. 
 
 Almost alone, in the rear of his soldiers, he opposed 
 with his single and desperate arm, party after party of the 
 enemy, until a narrow stream of the jMuchavez stojiped his 
 retreat. The waters were crimsoned with blood. He 
 plunged in, and beating the blushing wave with his left 
 arm, in a few seconds gained the opposite bank ; where, 
 fainting from fatigue and loss of blood, he sunk, almost 
 dejirived of sense, amidst a heap of the killed. 
 
 When the pursuing squadrons had galloi)ed by him, he 
 again summoned strength to look around. lie raised him- 
 self from the ground, and by the help of his sword, sup- 
 ported his steps a few paces farther : but, good God ! what 
 was the shock he received, when the bleeding and lifeless
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 73 
 
 body of his grandfather lay before him ? He stood for a 
 few moments motionless, and without sensation ; then, 
 kneeling down by his i^ide, whilst he felt as if his own 
 heart were palsied with death, he searched for the wounds 
 of the Palatine. They were numerous and deep. He 
 would have torn away the handkerchief with which he 
 had staunched his own blood to have applied it to that of 
 his grandfather, but by so doing he nmst have disabled 
 himself from giving him farther assistance. He took his 
 sash and neck-cloth ; and when they were insufficient, he 
 rent the linen from his breast ; then hastening to the 
 river, he brought a little water in his cap, and threw some 
 of its stained drops on the pale features of Sobieski. 
 
 The venerable hero opened his eyes : in a minute after- 
 wards he recognised, that it was his grandson Avho Jinelt 
 by him. The Palatine pressed his hand, which was cold 
 as ice : the marble lijjs of Tliaddeus could not move. 
 
 " My son,' said the veteran in a low voice, " Heaven 
 hath led you hither, to recei\e the last sigh of your grand- 
 father." Thaddeus trembled ; the Palatine continued ; 
 " Carry my blessing to your mother ; and bid her seek 
 comfort in the consolations of her God. May that God 
 preserve you ! ever remember that you are his servant ; 
 be obedient to him ; and as I have been, be faithful to 
 your country." 
 
 " ]\Iay God so bless me ! " cried Thaddeus, looking up 
 to Heaven. 
 
 " And ever remember," said the Palatine, raising his 
 head, which had dropt on the bosom of his grandson, 
 " that you are a Sobieski ! it is my dying command, that 
 you never take any other name." 
 
 " I promise." 
 
 Thaddeus could say no more, for the countenance of his 
 grandfather l)ccame altered ; his eyes closed. Thaddeus 
 caught him to his breast. No heart beat against his ; all 
 was still and cold. The body dropped from his arms, 
 and he sunk senseless by its side. 
 
 When sensation returned to him, he looked up. The 
 sky was shrouded in clouds, which a driving wind v.'as 
 Mowing from the orb of the moon, as a few of her white
 
 74 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 rays here and there gleamed on the weapons of the slaugh- 
 tered soldiers. 
 
 The scattered senses of Thaddeus slowly recollected 
 themselves. He was now lying, the only living creatm-e, 
 amidst thousands of the dead, who, the preceding night, 
 had been like himself, alive to all the consciousness of ex- 
 istence ! His right hand rested on the chilled face of his 
 grandfather, it was wet with dew ; he shuddered ; and 
 taking his own cloak from his shoidders, laid it over the 
 body. He would have said as he did it, " So, my father, I 
 woidd have sheltered thy life, with my own I" but the 
 words choked in his throat, and he sat watching by the 
 corpse until the day dawned, and the Poles returned to 
 bury their slain. 
 
 The wretched Thaddeus was discovered by a party of his 
 own hussars, seated on a little mound of earth, with the 
 cold hand of Sobieski grasped in his. At this sight the 
 soldiers uttered a cry of horror. Thaddeus rose up : " My 
 friends," said he, " I thank God that you are come ! Assist 
 me to bear my dear grandfather to the camp." 
 
 Astonished at this composure, but distressed at the 
 deathful hue of his countenance, they obeyed him in 
 mournful silence ; and laid the remains of the Palatine 
 upon a bier, which they formed with their sheathed sabres; 
 then gently raising it, they retrod their steps to the camp, 
 leaving a detachment to accomplish the duty for which they 
 had quitted it. Thaddeus, hardly able to support his 
 weakened frame, mounted a horse, and followed the melan- 
 choly procession. 
 
 General Wawrzecki*, on whom the command had de- 
 volved, seeing the party returning so soon, and in such an 
 order, sent an aid-de-camp to enquire the reason. He 
 came back with dejection in his face, and informed the 
 commander, that the bra\'e Palatine of Masovia, whom 
 they supposed had been taken prisoner with his grandson 
 and Kosciuszko, was the occasion of this sudden return ; 
 that he had been killed, and was now approaching the lines 
 on the arms of his soldiers. AV^awrzecki, though glad to 
 
 * This name, though marred in tlic spelling, has again occurred in the recent 
 Polish affairs.
 
 TlIADPErs OF WARSAW. 75 
 
 hear that Thaddeus was alive and at liberty, turned to con- 
 ceal his tears ; then calling out a guard, he inarched at 
 their head to meet the corpse of his illustrious friend. 
 
 The bier was carried into the General's tent. An aid- 
 de-camp and some gentlemen of the faculty, were ordered 
 to attend Thaddeus to his quarters ; but the young Count, 
 though scarcely able to stand, appeared to linger ; and 
 holding fast by the arm of an officer, he looked steadfastly 
 on the body. ^V^awrzecki understood his hesitation. He 
 pressed his hand: " Fear not, my dear Sir," said he ; " every 
 honour shall be paid to the remains of your noble grand- 
 father." Thaddeus bowed his head, and was supported out 
 of the tent to his own. 
 
 His wounds, of which he had received several, were not 
 deep ; and might have been of little consequence, had not 
 his thoughts continually hovered about his mother, and 
 painted her affliction, when she should be informed of the 
 lamentable events of the last day's battle. These reflec- 
 tions, awake, or in a slumber (for he never slept), possessed 
 his mind ; and even whilst his 'wovmds were healing, pro- 
 duced such an irritation in his blood, as hourly threatened 
 a fever. 
 
 Things were in this situation, when the surgeon put a 
 letter from the Countess into his hand. He opened it, and 
 read with breathless anxiety, these lines : 
 
 " To Thaddeus, Count Sobieski. 
 
 '" Console yourself, my most precious son, console your- 
 self for my sake. I have seen Colonel Lomza ; and I have 
 heard all the horrors which took place on the tenth of this 
 month. I have heard them, and I am yet alive ; I am 
 resigned ; but he tells me you are wounded. Oh ! do not 
 let me be bereft of my son also ! Remember, that you were 
 my dear sainted father's darling : remember, that as his re- 
 presentative, you are to be my consolation : in pity to me, 
 if not to our suffering country, preserve yourself, to be at 
 least the last comfort which Heaven will spare to me. I 
 find, that all is lost to Poland, as well as to myself ; that 
 when my glorious father fell, and his friend with him, the 
 republic became extinct. The Russian army is now on its
 
 76 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 march towards Masovia ; and I am too weak to come to 
 you. Let me see you soon, very soon, my beloved son ; 
 I beseech you come to me. You will find me feebler in 
 body, than in mind ; for there is a holy comforter that de- 
 scends on the bruised heart, whicli none other than the 
 unhappy have conceived or felt. Farewell, my dear, dear 
 Thaddeus ! Let the memory, that you have a mother, 
 check your too ardent courage. God for ever guard you. 
 Live for your mother; who has no stronger words to express 
 her affection for you than that she is thy mother; — thy 
 
 " TllERESE C. SOBIESKI. 
 
 " Villanow, 
 October, 1794." 
 
 This letter was indeed a balm to the soul of Thaddeus. 
 That his mother had received intelligence of the cruel event 
 with such resignation, was the best medicine that could 
 now be applied to his wounds, both of mind and body; — 
 and when he was told, that on the succeeding morning the 
 body of his grandfather would be removed to the convent 
 near Biala, he declared his resolution to attend it to the 
 grave. 
 
 In vain his surgeons and General Wawrzccki remon- 
 strated against the danger of this project ; for once the 
 gentle and yielding spirit of Thaddeus was inflexible. He 
 had fixed his determination, and it was not to be shaken. 
 
 Next day, being the seventh from that in which the fatal 
 battle had been decided, Thaddeus, at the first beat of the 
 drum, rose from his bed, and, almost unassisted, put on his 
 clothes. His uniform being I)lack, he needed no other in- 
 dex than his pale and mournful countenance, to announce 
 that he was chief mourner. 
 
 The procession began to form, and he walked from his 
 tent. It was a fine morning : Thaddeus looked up, as if 
 to upbraid the sun for shining so brightly. Lengthened 
 and repeated rounds of cannon rolled along the air. The 
 solemn march of tlie dead was moaning from the muffled 
 drum, interrupted at measured i)auses by the shrill tremor 
 of the fife. The troops, preceded by their General, moved 
 forward with a decent and melancholy sten. The Bishop of
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 77 
 
 Warsaw followed, bearing the sacred vuluine in his hands ; 
 and next, borne upon the crossed pikes of his soldiers, and 
 supported by tAvclve of his veteran companions, appeared 
 the body of the brave Sobieski. A velvet pall covered it, 
 on which were laid those arms, with which for fifty years 
 he had asserted the liberties of his country. At this sight, 
 the sobs of the men became audible. I'haddeus followed 
 with a slow but firm step, his eyes bent to the ground, and 
 his arms wrapped in his cloak : it was the same which 
 had shaded his beloved grandfather from the dews of that 
 dreadful night. Another train of sol enm music succeeded; 
 and then the squadrons Avhich the deceased had com- 
 manded, dismoinitcd, and leading their horses, closed the 
 procession. 
 
 On the verge of the i>lain that borders Biala, and within 
 a few paces of the convent gate of St. Francis, the bier 
 stopped. The nionks saluted its appearance with a re- 
 quiem, which they continued to chant till the coffin was 
 loAvcrcd into the ground. The earth received its sacred de- 
 posit. 'Ilie anthems ceased ; and the soldiers kneeling 
 down, discharged their muskets over it; then, with stream- 
 ing checks, rose, and gave place to others. Nine volleys 
 were fired, and the ranks fell back. The Bishop advanced 
 to the head of the grave ; all was hushed ; he raised his 
 eyes to Heaven ; then, after a pause, in which he seemed 
 to be communing Avith the regions above him, he turned to 
 the silent assembly, and in a voice, collected and impressive, 
 addressed them in a short, but aft'ccling oration, in which 
 he set forth the brightness of Sobieski's life ; his noble for- 
 getfulness of self, in the interests of his country ; and the 
 dauntless bravery, which had laid him in the dust. A ge- 
 neral discharge of cannon and of musketry, was the awful 
 response to this appeal. A\'awrzecki took the sword of the 
 Palatine, and breaking it, dropt it irito the grave. The 
 aides-de-camp of the deceased did the same by theirs ; 
 showing, that by so doing, they resigned their oflices ; and 
 then covering their faces with their handkerchiefs, they 
 turned away with the soldiers who filed off. Thaddeus 
 sunk on his knees : his hands were clasped, and his eyes 
 for a few minutes fixed themselves on the coffin of his
 
 73 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 grandfather ; then rising, he leaned on the arm of Wawr- 
 zeckij and with a tottering step and pallid countenance 
 mounted his horse, which had been led to the spot ; and 
 returned with the scattered procession to the camp. 
 
 The cause for exertion being over, his spirits fell with 
 the rapidity of a spring too highly wound up, which snaps, 
 and runs down to immobility. He entered his tent, and 
 and threw himself on the bed, from which he did not 
 arise, for the five following days. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 At a time when the eflFects of these sufferings and fatigues 
 had brought him very low, the young Count Sobieski was 
 aroused by information that the Russians had planted 
 themselves before Prague, and were preparing to bombard 
 the town. This intelligence rallied the spirits of the de- 
 pressed soldiers, who readily obeyed their commander, 
 to put themselves in order of march the next day. Thad- 
 deus saw the decisive blow was pending; and though 
 hardly able to sit his horse, he refused the indulgence of a 
 Utter ; determining that no iUness, while he had power to 
 master its effects, should make him recede one hour from 
 the active exercise of his duty. 
 
 Devastation was spread over the face of the country. 
 As the troops moved, the unhappy and houseless villagers, 
 presented an agonising picture to their view. Old men 
 stood amongst the ashes of their homes, deploring the 
 cruelty of power ; children and women sat by the way- 
 side, weeping over the last sustenance, which the wretched 
 infant drew from the breast of its perishing mother. 
 
 Thaddeus shut his eyes on the scene. 
 
 '' O, my country ! my country !" exclaimed he; " what 
 are my personal griefs to thine? It is your wretchedness 
 that barbs me to the heart ! Look there," cried he, to the^ 
 soldiers, pointing to the miserable spectacles before him^
 
 THADDEVS OP WARSAW. 79 
 
 " look there, and carry vengeance into the breasts of their 
 destroyers. Let Prague be the last act of this tragedy ! " 
 
 Unhappy young man, unfortunate country ! It was in- 
 deed the last act of a tragedy, to which all Europe were 
 spectators ; a tragedy, which the nations witnessed with- 
 out one attempt to stop or to delay its dreadful catastrophe! 
 O ! how must virtue be lost, when it is no longer an arti- 
 cle of policy, even to assume it ! 
 
 After a long march through a dark and dismal night, 
 the morning began to break ; and Thaddeus found himself 
 on the southern side of that little river which divides the 
 territories of Sobieski from the woods of Kobylka. Here, 
 for the first time, he endured all the torturing varieties of 
 despair. 
 
 The once fertile fields were burnt to stubble ; the cot- 
 tages were yet smoking froin the ravages of the fire ; and, 
 in place of smiling eyes and thankful lips, he beheld the 
 dead bodies of his peasants stretched on the high roads, 
 mangled, bleeding, and stripped of that decent covering, 
 which humanity would not deny to the vilest criminal. 
 
 Thaddeus coidd bear the sight no longer ; but, setting 
 spurs to his horse, fled from the contem])lation of scenes 
 which harrowed up his heart. 
 
 At nightfall, the army halted under the walls of Villanow, 
 The Count looked towards the windows of the palace, and 
 by a light shining through the half-dratvn curtains, distin- 
 guished his mother's room. He then turned his eyes on 
 that sweep of building which contained the Palatine's apart- 
 ments ; but not one solitary lamp illumined its gloom ; the 
 moon alone glimmered on the battlements, silvering the 
 painted glass of the study window, where, with that beloved 
 parent, he had so lately gazed upon the stars, and anticipated 
 a campaign, which had now so fatally terminated. 
 
 These thoughts, with his grief and his forebodings, were 
 bmried in the depths of his soul. Addressing General 
 Wawrzecki, he bade him welcome to Mllanow, requesting, 
 at the same time, that the men might be directed to rest 
 till the morning, and that he, and the officers, would partake 
 of refreshment within the jialace. 
 
 As soon as Thaddeus saw his gTiests seated at different
 
 80 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 tables in the eating-hall, and had given orders for the 
 soldiers to be served from the cellars, he withdrew to seek 
 the Countess. lie found her in her drcssi)ig--room, sur- 
 rounded by the attendants who had just informed her of 
 his arrival. The moment he appeared at the door, the 
 women went out at an opposite passage, and Thaddeus, 
 with an anguished heart, threw himself on the bosom of 
 his mother. They were siloit for some time. Poignant 
 recollection stopped their utterance: bat neither tears nor 
 sighs filled its place, until the Countess — on whose scul 
 the full tide of mntcrnal affection pressed, and mingled 
 with her grief, — raised her head from her son's neck, and 
 said, whilst she strained him in her arms ; " Receive my 
 thanks, O ! Father of JMcrcy, for having spared to me this 
 blessing !" 
 
 Sobieski breathed a response to the address of his mother : 
 and drying her tears with his kisses, dwelt upon the never- 
 dying fame of his beloved grandfather, upon his preferable 
 lot to that of their brave fi-iend Kosciuszko, who was 
 doomed, not only to survive the liberty of his country, but 
 to pass the residue of his life within the dungeons of a 
 Russian prison. He then tried to reanimate her spirits 
 with hope. He spoke of the approaching battle, without 
 expressing any doubt of the valour and desperation of the 
 Poles rendering it successful. He talked of the firmness of 
 the King ; of the coiu-age of the General ; of his own reso- 
 lution. His discourse began in a wish to cheat her into 
 tranquillity ; but as he aih anced on the subject, his soul 
 took fire at its own warintli, and he half believed the pro- 
 bability of his anticipations. 
 
 The Countess looked on the honourable glow which 
 crimsoned his harassed features, with a pang at her heart. 
 
 " i\Iy heroic son !"' cried she, " my darling Thaddeus ! 
 what a vast price do I pay for all this excellence ! I could not 
 love you, were you odierwise than what you are ; and 
 being what you are, () ! how soon may I lose you ! Al- 
 ready has your noble grandfather paid the debt which he 
 owed to his glory : he promised to fall with Poland ; he 
 has kept his word ; and now, all tliat I love on earth is 
 concentrated in you." The Countess paused, and pressing
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. ^5 1 
 
 his hand almost wildly on her heart, she continued in a 
 hurried voice ; " The same spirit is in your breast ; the 
 same principle binds you ; and I may at last be left alone. 
 Heaven have pity on me !" 
 
 She cast her eyes upwards as she ended. Thaddeus, 
 sinking on his knees by her side, implored her with all the 
 earnestness of piety and confiilence, to take comfort. The 
 Countess embraced him with a forced smile ; " You must 
 forgive me, Tiiaddeus, I have nothing of the soldier in my 
 heart ; it is all woman. But I will not detain you longer 
 from the rest you require; go to your room, and try to 
 recruit yourself for the dangers to-morrow will bring forth. 
 1 sliall employ the night in prayers for your safety." 
 
 Consoled to see any composure in liis mother, he Avith- 
 drew; and after having heard that his numerous guests were 
 properly lodged, went to his own chamber. 
 
 Next morning at sunrise the troops prepared to march. 
 General \\'awrzecki, with his officers, begged permission to 
 pay their personal gratitude to the Countess for the hospi- 
 taUty of her reception ; but she declined the honour, on 
 the plea of indisposition ; and, in the course of an hour, 
 the Count appeared from her apartment, and joined the 
 General. 
 
 The soldiers filed off through the gates, crossed the 
 bridge, and halted under the walls of Prague. The lines 
 of the camp were drawn and fortified before the evening, 
 at which time they found leisure to observe the enemy's 
 strength. 
 
 Russia seemed to have exhausted her wide regions to 
 jieojile the narrow shores of the Mstula ; from cast to west, 
 as far as the eye could reach, her armies were stretched to 
 the horizon. Sobieski looked at them, and then on the 
 handful of intrepid hearts contained in the small circum- 
 ference of the Polish camp. Sighing heavily, he retired 
 into his tent ; and vainly seeking repose, mixed his short 
 and startled slumbers, with frequent prayers for the preserv- 
 ation of these last victims to their country. 
 
 The hours appeared to stand still. Several times he 
 rose from his bed, and went to the door, to see Avhether 
 the clouds were tinged with any appearance of dawr. .VU 
 
 G
 
 Sg TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 continued dark. He again returned to his marquee, and 
 standing by the lamp, which was nearly exhausted, took 
 out his watch, and tried to distingusih the points ; but 
 finding that the light burnt too feebly, he was pressing the 
 repeating spring, which struck five, when the report of a 
 single musket made him start. 
 
 lie flew to his tent door, and looking around, saw that 
 all in that quarter was at rest. Suspecting it to be a signal 
 of the enemy, he hurried towards the entrenchments ; but 
 found the sentinels in perfect security from any fears re- 
 specting the sound, as they supposed it to have proceeded 
 from the town. 
 
 Sobieski paid little attention to their opinions, but ascend- 
 ing the nearest bastion to take a wider survey, in a few 
 minutes he discerned, though obscurely through the gleams 
 of morning, the whole host of Russia advancing in profound 
 silence towards the Polish lines. The instant he made this 
 discovery, he came down, and lost no time in giving orders 
 for a defence ; then flying to other parts of the camp, he 
 awakened the commander-in-chief, encouraged the men, 
 and saw that the whole encampment was not only in mo- 
 tion, but prepared for the assault. 
 
 In consequence of these prompt arrangements, the Rus- 
 sians were received with the cross-fire of the batteries ; and 
 case shot and musketry from several redoubts, which raked 
 their flanks as they approached. But, in defiance of this 
 shower of bullets, they pressed on with an intrepidity wor- 
 thy of a better cause ; and overleaping the ditch by squad- 
 rons entered the camp. A passage once secured the Cossacs 
 rushed in by thousands ; and spreading themselves in front 
 of the storming party, put every soul to the bayonet who 
 opposed their way. 
 
 Tlie Polish works being gained, the Russians turned the 
 cannon on its former masters ; and as they rallied to the de- 
 fence of what remained, swept them down by whole regi- 
 ments. The noise of artillery thundered from all sides of 
 the camp : the smoke was so great, that it was hai-dly pos- 
 sible to distinguish friends from foes ; nevertheless, the 
 spirits of the Poles flagged not a moment : as fast as one 
 rampart was wrested from them, they threw themselves
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 83 
 
 within another ; which was as speedily taken, by the help 
 of hurdles, fascines, ladders, and a courage as resistless, as 
 it was ferocious, merciless, and sanguinary. Every spot of 
 vantage position, was at length lost ; and yet the Poles fought 
 like lions; quarter was neither offered to them nor required; 
 they disjmted every inch of ground, until they fell upon it in 
 heaps ; some, lying before the parapets ; others, filling the 
 ditches ; and the rest covering the earth, for the enemy to 
 tread on, as they cut their passage to the heart of the camp. 
 
 Sobieski, almost maddened by the scene, dripping with 
 his own blood, and tliat of his brave friends, was seen in 
 every part of the action ; he was in the fosse, defending 
 the trampled bodies of the dying ; he was on the dyke, ani- 
 mating the few who survived. Wawrzecki was wounded, 
 and every hope hung upon Thaddeus ; his presence and 
 voice infused new energy into the arms of his fainting coun- 
 trymen : they kept close to his side, until the Russians, en- 
 raged at the dauntless intrepidity of this young hero, uttered 
 the most unmanly imprecations, and rushing on his little 
 phalanx, attacked it with retioubled numbers and fury. 
 
 Sobieski sustained the shock with firmness ; but where- 
 ever he turned his eyes, they were blasted with some object 
 which made them recoil ; he beheld his companions, and his 
 soldiers, strewing the earth ; and their barbarous adversaries 
 mounting their dying bodies, as they hastened with loud 
 huzzas to the destruction of Prague, whose gates were now 
 burst open. His eyes grew dim at the sight ; and at the 
 very moment in Avhich he tore them from spectacles so 
 deadly to his heart, a Lavonian officer struck him with a 
 sabre, to all appearance dead upon the field. 
 
 When Thaddeus recovered from the bloAv, which, having 
 lit on the steel of his cap, had only stunned him, he looked 
 around, and found that all near him was quiet ; but a fai- 
 different scene presented itself from the town. The rear 
 of cannon, and the bursting of bombs, thundered through 
 the air ; which was rendered livid and tremendous by long 
 spires of fire, streaming from the burning houses, and 
 mingling with the volumes of smoke, which rolled from the 
 guns. The dreadful tocsin, and the hurras of the victors, 
 pierced the soul of the Count. Springing from the ground 
 G 2
 
 8.4 THADDEt'S OF WARSAW. 
 
 he was preparing to rush towards the gates^ when loucl 
 cries of distress issued from the interior of the place, — and 
 a moment after, the grand magazine blew up with a horri- 
 ble explosion. 
 
 In an instant the field before Prague was filled with 
 women and children, flying in all directions, and rending 
 the sky with their shrieks. '' Father Almighty ! " cried 
 Thaddeus, wringing his hands, " canst thou suffer this } '* 
 ^Fhilst he yet spake, some straggling Cossacs from the 
 town, who were prowling about, glutted, but not sated, with 
 blood, seized the poor fugitives, and with a ferocity as 
 wanton as unmanly, released them at once from life and 
 affliction. 
 
 This hideous spectacle brought his mother's defenceless 
 state before the eyes of Sobieski. Her palace was only four 
 miles distant; and whilst the barbarous avidity of the 
 Russians was too busily engaged in sacking the place, to 
 permit them to perceive a solitary individual hurrying away 
 amidst heaps of dead bodies, he flew across the desolated 
 meadows which intervened between Prague and Villanow. 
 
 Thaddeus was met at the gate of the palace by General 
 Butzou ; who having learnt the fate of Prague from the 
 noise and flames in that quarter, anticipated the arrival of 
 some part of the victorious army before the walls of Villa- 
 now. When the Count crossed the drawbridge, he saw 
 that the worthy veteran had prepared every thing for a stout 
 resistance ; the ramparts were lined with soldiers, and well 
 mounted with artillery. 
 
 " Here, my dear Lord," cried he, as he conducted the 
 Count to the keep, " let the worst happen, here I am re- 
 solved to dispute the possession of your grandfather's palace, 
 until I have not a man to stand by me !" 
 
 Thaddeus strained him in silence to his breast; and after 
 examining the force and dispositions, he approved all, with 
 a cold despair of their being of any effectual use ; and went 
 to the apartments of his mother. 
 
 The Countess's women, who met him in the vestibule, 
 begged him to be careful how he entered her excellency's 
 room ; for she had only just recovered from a swoon, oc- 
 cf^sioned by alarm at hearing the cannonade against the Polish
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WAHSAfl*. 85 
 
 camp. Thaddeus waited for no more ; but regardless of 
 their caution, threw open the door of the chamber ; and 
 hastening to his mother's couch, cast himself into her arms. 
 Slie clung round his neck : and for a while joy stopped her 
 respiration, till bursting into tears she wept over him, in- 
 capable of expressing by words her tumultuous gratitude of 
 again beholding him alive. lie looked on her altered and 
 pallid features. 
 
 " O ! my mother," cried he, clasping her to his breast, 
 " you are ill ; and what will become of you ? "' 
 
 " IVIy beloved son," replied she, kissing his forehead 
 through the clotted blootl which oozed from a cut on his 
 temple ; " my beloved son, before our cruel murderers can 
 arrive, I shall have found a refuge in the bosom of my 
 Ood." 
 
 Thaddeus could only answer with a groan. She resumed. 
 " Give me your hand. I must not witness the grandson 
 of Sobieski given up to despair: let your mother incite you 
 to resignation. You see, I have not breathed a complaining 
 word, although 1 behold you covered with wounds." As 
 she spoke, her eye pointed to the sash and handkerchief 
 which were bound round his thigh and arm. " Our separ- 
 ation will not be long ; a few short years, perhaps hours, 
 may unite us for ever in a better world." 
 
 The Count was still speechless ; he could only press her 
 hand to his lips. After a pause, she proceeded — 
 
 " Look up, my dear boy ! and attend to me. Should 
 Poland become the property of other nations, I conjure you, 
 if you survive its fall, to leave it. 'Wlien reduced to slavery, 
 it will no longer be an asylum for a man of honour. I 
 beseech you, should this happen, go that very hour to Eng- 
 land : that is a free country ; and I have been told the 
 people are kind to the unfortunate. Thaddeus ! ^Vhy do 
 you delay to answer me } Remember, these are your mother's 
 dying prayers." 
 
 " 1 will obey you." 
 
 " Then," continued she, taking from her boscm a picture, 
 " let me tie this round your neck. It is the portrait of your 
 father," Thaddeus bent his head, and the Countess fastened 
 G 3
 
 OQ THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 it under his neckcloth : " Prize this gift, my child ; it is 
 likely to be all that you will now inherit either from me, or 
 that father. Try to forget his injustice, my dear son ; and 
 in memory of me never part with it. O, Thaddeus ! since 
 the moment in which I first received it, until this instant, 
 it has never been from my heart f" 
 
 " And it shall never leave mine," answered he, in a stifled 
 voice, " whilst I have being." 
 
 The Countess was preparing to reply, when a sudden 
 volley of fire-arms made Thaddeus spring upon his feet. 
 Loud cries succeeded. Women rushed into the apartment, 
 screaming, " The ramparts are stormed ! " and the next 
 moment that quarter of the building rocked to its foundation. 
 The Countess clung to the bosom of her son ; Thaddeus 
 clasped her close to his breast, and casting up his petitioning 
 eyes to Heaven, " O God !" cried he, " can I not find shelter 
 for my mother !" 
 
 Another burst of cannon was followed by a heavy crash, 
 and the most piercing shrieks echoed through the palace. 
 " All is lost ! " cried a soldier, who appeared for an instant 
 at the room door, and vanished. 
 
 Thaddeus, overwhelmed with despair, grasped his sword, 
 which had fallen to the ground, and crying, " Mother, we 
 wiU cUe together ! " would have given her one last and as- 
 suring embrace, when his eyes met the dreadful sight of her 
 before agitated features now tranquillised in death. She 
 fell from his palsied arms back on the sofa, and he stood 
 gazing on her, as if struck by a power which had benumbed 
 all his faculties. 
 
 The tumult in the palace increased every moment ; but 
 he heard it not, until Butzou, followed by two or three of 
 his soldiers, ran into the apartment, calling out, " Count, 
 save yourself ! " 
 
 Sobieski still remained motionless. The General caught 
 him by the ami, and covering the body of the deceased 
 Countess with the mantle of her son, hurried his uncon- 
 scious steps, by an opposite door, through the state chambers 
 into the gardens. 
 
 Thaddeus did not recover his recollection until he reached 
 the outward gate; then breaking from the hold of his friend.
 
 THADUEVS OF WARSAW. 8? 
 
 was returning to the sorrowful scene he had left, when 
 Butzou, aware of his intentions, just stopped him time 
 enough to prevent his rushing on the bayonets of a party of 
 Rusian infantry who were pursuing them at full speed. 
 
 The count now rallied his distracted faculties ; and mak- 
 ing a stand with the General and his three Poles, they com- 
 {>elled this merciless detachment to seek refuge among the 
 arcades of the building. 
 
 Butzou would not allow his young Lord to pursue the 
 wretches, but hurried him across the park. He looked be- 
 liind him ; a column of fire issued from the south towers. 
 Thaddeus sighed as if his life were in that sigh ; " All is 
 indeed over ; " and pressing his hand to his forehead, in that 
 attitude followed the steps of the General towards the Vis- 
 tula. 
 
 From the wind's being very high, the flame spread itself 
 over the roof of the palace ; and catching at every combus- 
 tible in its way, the Russians became bo terrified at the 
 quick progress of a fire which threatened to consume them- 
 selves as well as their plunder, that tliey quitted it with 
 precipitation ; and descrying the Count and his soldiers at 
 a Uttle distance, directed all their maUce to that point. 
 Speedily overtaking the brave fugitives, they blocked up the 
 bridge by a file of men with fixed pikes ; and not only me- 
 naced the Polanders as they advanced, but derided their 
 means of resistance. 
 
 Sobieski, indifferent alike to danger and to insults, stop- 
 ped short to the left, and followed by his friends, plunged 
 into the stream amidst a shower of musket balls from the 
 enemy. After hard buffeting with the torrent, he at last 
 reached the opposite bank ; and was assisted from the river 
 by some of the weeping inhabitants of "Warsaw, who had 
 been watching the expiring ashes of Prague, and the flames 
 which were feeding on the boasted towers of Villanow. 
 
 Emerged from the water, Thaddeus stood to regain his 
 breath ; and leaning on the shoulder of Butzou, he pointed 
 to his burning palace with a smile of agony, " See what a 
 funeral pile Heaven has given to the manes of my dear 
 mother ! " 
 
 G 4;
 
 88 THADDEIS OF WARSAW. 
 
 The General did not speak^ for grief stopped his utter- 
 ance; but motioning the two soldieis to proceed, he sup- 
 ported the Count into the citadel.* 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 From the termination of this awful day, in which a brave 
 and virtuous people were consigned to slavery, Thaddeus 
 was confined to his apartment in the garrison. 
 
 It was now the latter end of November. General But- 
 zou supposing that the illness of his lord might continue 
 some Aveeks, and aware that no time ought to be lost in 
 maintaining all that Avas yet left of the kingdom of Poland^ 
 obtained his permission ; and quitting Warsaw, joined 
 Prince Poniatowski, who was yet at the head of a few 
 troops near Sachoryn. 
 
 Not long afterwards, the young Count finding himself 
 tolerably restored, except in those wounds of the heart, 
 which time only can heal, was enabled to leave his room, 
 and breathe the fresh air on the ramparts. His appearance 
 was greeted by the officers, with melancholy congratulations ; 
 but their replies to his eager questions, displaced the faint 
 smile wliich he tried to spread over his countenance ; am.1 
 with a contracted brow, he listened to the following inform- 
 ation : — 
 
 " Prague was not only rased to the ground, but upwards 
 of thirty thousand persons, besides old men, women, "and 
 defenceless infants, had perished by the sword, the river, 
 and the flames. All the horrors of Ismail were re-acted by 
 Suwarrow on the banks of the Vistula. The citizens of 
 Warsaw, intimidated by such a spectacle, assembled in a 
 body ; and driven to desperation, repaired to the foot of the 
 throne. On their knees they implored His Majesty to 
 forget the contested rights of his subjects ; and in pity to 
 their wives and children, allow them, by a timely submission, 
 
 * The mcmoraWc territory around Villanow lias again bcpn made tlio scene 
 of battle and of confiagration, in the spring of IS'jl, — mst thirty.^evcn years 
 since this closing iict of the former poiteiitcus struggle of Poland.
 
 TIIADDEIS OF WARSAW. 
 
 89 
 
 to save those dear relatives from tlie ignominy and cruelty 
 which had been wreaked upon the inhabitants of Prague. 
 Stanislaus saw that opposition would be fruitless. The 
 walls of his capital were already surrounded by a train of 
 artillery, ready to blow the town to atoms ; the fate of Po- 
 land seemed inevitable : and with a deep sigh the King 
 assented to the petition^ and sent deputies to the enemy's 
 camp. 
 
 " Suwan-ow," continued the officer, " demands that e\'cry 
 man in Poland shall not only surrender his arms, but sue 
 for pardon for the past. This is his reply to the sub- 
 mission of the king, and these hard conditions are accepted." 
 
 " They never shall be by me," said Sobieski; and turning 
 from his informer, hardly knowing what were his inten- 
 tions, he walked towards the royal palace. 
 
 AVhen His Majesty was apprised that the young Count 
 Sobieski awaited his commands in the audience chand)er, he 
 left his closet, and entered the room. Thaddeus, with a 
 swelling heart, would have thrown himself on his knee, 
 but the king prevented him, and pressed him with emotion 
 in his arms. 
 
 " Brave young man ! " cried he, " I embrace in you the 
 last of those Polish youth who were so lately the brightest 
 jewels in my crown." 
 
 Tears stood in the monarch's eyes, as he spoke ; and So- 
 bieski, with hardly a steadier utterance, answered, '^ I come 
 to receive Your ^lajesty's commands. I will obey them in 
 all things, but in surrendering this sword (which was my 
 grandfather's) into the hands of your enemies." 
 
 " I will not desire you, my noble friend," replied Sta- 
 nislaus ; " by my acquiescence with the terms of Russia, 
 I comply only with the earnest prayers of my people ; I 
 do not wish them to be slaves. I shall not ask you to 
 betray your country ; but, alas ! you must not throw away 
 your life in a now hopeless cause. Fate has consigned 
 Poland to subjection ; and when heaven, in its all-wise 
 tliough mysterious decrees, confirms the destruction of 
 kingdoms, man's duty is resignation. For myself, I am 
 ordered by our conqueror to bury my griefs and indignities 
 in die castle of Grodno."
 
 90 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 The blood rushed over the cheek of Thaddeus at this 
 meek declaration, to which the proud indignation of his soul 
 could in no way subscribe : Avith a heated and agitated voice 
 he exclaimed, " If my sovereign be already at the command 
 of our oppressors, then indeed is Poland no more ! and I have 
 nothing to do, but to perform the dying will of my mother. 
 Will Your Majesty grant me permission to set off for England 
 before I can be obliged to witness the last calamity of my 
 wretched country ?" 
 
 " I would to heaven," replied the king, " that I, too, 
 might repose my age and sorrows in that happy kingdom ! 
 Go, Sobieski ; my prayers and blessings shall foUow you." 
 
 Thaddeus pressed His Majesty's hand to his lips. 
 
 " Believe me, my dear Count," continued Stanislaus, 
 " my soul bleeds at this parting. I know the treasure 
 which your family has always been to this nation : I know 
 your own individual merit : I know the wealth which you 
 have sacrificed for me and my subjects, and I am powerless 
 to express my gratitude." 
 
 " Had I done any thing more than my duty," rephed 
 he, " such words from Your Majesty's lips would have been 
 a reward adequate to every privation ; but, alas, no ! I have 
 perhaps performed less than my duty ; the blood of Sobieski 
 ought not to have been spared one drop, when the liberties 
 of his country perished ! " Thaddeus blushed whilst he 
 spoke; and almost repented the too ready zeal of his 
 friends, in having saved him from the general slaughter at 
 Villanow. 
 
 The voice of the venerable Stanislaus became fainter as 
 he resumed — 
 
 " Perhaps, had a Sobieski reigned at this time, these 
 horrors might not have been accomplished ! That tyrannous 
 power, which has crushed my people, I cannot forget is 
 the same which put the sceptre into my hand. Catharine 
 misunderstood my principles ; she calculated on giving a 
 traitor to the Poles ; but when she made me a king, she 
 could not obliterate the stamp which the King of kings 
 had graved upon my heart: I believed myself to be iiis vice- 
 gerent, and to the utmost, I have struggled to fulfil my trust." 
 
 " Yes, my sovereign ! " cried Thaddeus, " and whilst
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 91 
 
 there remains one man on earth, who has drawn his first 
 breath in Poland, he will bear witness in all the lands 
 through which he may be doomed to wander, that he has 
 received from you the care and aft'ection of a father. O ! 
 sire, how will future ages believe, that in the midst of civi- 
 lised Europe, a brave peojjle and a virtuous monarch were 
 suffered, unaided, undeplored, to fall into the grasp of 
 usurpation and murder ? " 
 
 Stanislaus laid his hand on the arm of the Count. 
 
 " Man's ambition and baseness," said he, "are monstrous 
 to the contemplation of youth only. You are learning 
 your lesson early : I have studied mine for many years, 
 and with a bitterness of soul, which in some measure pre- 
 pared me for the completion. My kingdom has passed 
 from me, at the moment you have lost your country. 
 Before we part for ever, my dear Sobieski, take with you 
 this assurance! — You have served the unfortunate Sta- 
 nislaus, to the latest hour in which you beheld him. That 
 which you have just said, expressive of the sentiments of 
 those who were my subjects, is indeetl a balm to my heart; 
 and 1 will carry its consolations to my prison." 
 
 The king paused ; Sobieski, agitated and incapable of 
 speaking, threw himself at His Majesty's feet, and pressed 
 his hand with fervency and anguish to his lips. The King 
 looked down on his graceful figure ; and, pierced to the 
 soul by the more graceful feelings which dictated the action, 
 the tear which stood on his eye-lid rolled over his cheek, 
 and was followed by another, before he could add — 
 
 " Rise, my young friend, and take this ring. It con- 
 tains my picture ; wear it in remembrance of a man who 
 loves you • and who never can forget your worth, or the 
 loyalty and patriotism of your house." 
 
 The Chancellor at that moment being announced, Thad- 
 deus rose from his knee, and was preparing to leave the 
 room, when His ^Majesty, perceiving his intention, desired 
 him to stop. 
 
 " Stay, Count ! " cried he, " I will burden you with 
 one request. I am now a king without a crown, without 
 Bubjects, without a foot of land in which to bury me Avhen
 
 92 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 I die ; I cannot reward the fidelity of any one of the few 
 friends of whom my enemies have not deprived me ; but 
 you are young, and Heaven may yet smile upon you in 
 some distant nation. AV^ill you pay a debt of gratitude for 
 your poor sovereign ? Shovdd you ever again meet with 
 the good old Butzou, who rescued me when my preserv- 
 ation lay on the fortune of a moment; remember, that I 
 regard him as the saviour of my life ! I was told to-day, 
 that on the destruction of Prague, this brave man joined 
 tlie army of my brother. It is now disbanded ; — and he, 
 with the rest of my faithful soldiers, is cast forth in his 
 dd age on the bounty of a pitiless world. Should you 
 ever meet him, Sobieski, succour him for my sake." 
 
 " As Heaven may succour me ! " cried Thaddeus ; and 
 putting His Majesty's hand a second time to his lips, he 
 bowed to the Chancellor, and passed into the street. 
 
 "When the Count returned to the citadel, he found that 
 all was as the King had represented. The soldiers in the 
 garrison were reluctantly preparing to give up their arms ; 
 and the nobles, in compassion to the cries of the people, 
 were trying to humble their necks to the yoke of the ra- 
 Vager. The magistrates lingered as they went to take the 
 city keys from the hands of their good king ; and with 
 bitter sighs anticipated the moment in which they must 
 surrender them and their rights into the power of Suwar- 
 row, and that "proud woman of the North," who exulted 
 in nothing less than universal dominion. 
 
 Poland was now no place for Sobieski. He had sur- 
 vived aU his kindred. He had survived the liberties of his 
 country. He had seen the King a prisoner; and his coun- 
 trymen trampled on by deceit and cruelty. As he walked 
 on, musing over these circumstances, he met with little in- 
 terruption ; for the streets were deserted. Here and there 
 a poor miserable wretch passed him, who seemed, by his 
 wan cheeks and haggard eyes, already to repent the too 
 successful prayers of the deputation. The shops were 
 shut. Thaddeus stopped a few minutes in tlie great 
 square, which used to be crowded with liappy citizens, but 
 now, not one man was to be seen. An awful and expect-
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. P3 
 
 ing silence reigned over all. He sighed ; and walking 
 down the east street, ascended that part of the ramparts 
 which covered the ^'istula. 
 
 He turned his eyes to the spot where once stood the 
 magnificent towers of his paternal palace. 
 
 " Yes," cried he^ " it is now time for me to obey the 
 last command of my mother ! Nothing remains of Poland 
 but its soil, nothing of my home but its ashes !" 
 
 The Russians had pitched a detachment of tents amidst 
 the ruins of VillanoAv ; and Avere at this moment busying 
 themselves in searching amongst the stupendous fragments 
 for what plunder the fire might have spared. 
 
 "Insatiate robbers!" exclaimed Thaddeus, "Heaven 
 will recjuite this sacrilege." He thought on the Countess, 
 vvho lay beneath the ruins, and tore himself from the 
 sight, whilst he added, " Farewell for ever ; farewell, thou 
 beloved Mllanow, in which I have spent so many blissful 
 years ! I quit thee and my country for ever ! " As lie 
 sjwke, he raised his hands and eyes to heaven, and pressing 
 the picture of his mother to his lips and bosom, turned 
 from the parapet ; determining to prepare that night for 
 his departure the next morning. 
 
 He arose by daybreak ; and having gathered together all 
 his little wealth, the whole of which was compressed within 
 the portmanteau that was buckled on his horse ; precisely 
 two hours before the triumphal car of General Suwarrow 
 entered ^\^arsaw, Sobieski left it ; and as he rode along the 
 streets, he bedewed its stones with his tears. They were 
 the first that he had shed during the long series of his mis- 
 fortunes ; and they now flowed so fast from his eyes, he 
 could hardly discern his way out of the city. 
 
 At the great gate his horse stopped. 
 
 "Poor Saladiu!" said Thaddeus, stroking his neck, 
 " are you so sorry at leaving AVarsaw, that, like your un- 
 happy master, you linger to take a last look ! " 
 
 His tears redoubled; and the warder, as he closed the 
 gate after him, implored permission to kiss the hand of the 
 noble Count Sobieski, ere he should turn his back on Po- 
 land never to return. Thaddeus looked kindly round; and 
 shaking hands with the honest man, after saying a few
 
 94 THADDEt'S OF WARSAW. 
 
 friendly Avords to him, rode on with a loitering pace till he 
 reached that part of the river which divides Masovia from 
 the Prussian dominions. 
 
 Here he flung himself off his horse ; and standing for 
 a moment on the hill that rises near the hridge, retraced 
 with his almost blinded eyes the long and desolated lands 
 through which he had passed ; then involuntarily dropping 
 on his knees, he plucked a tuft of grass, and pressing it to 
 his lips, exclaimed, " Farewell, Poland ! Farewell all 
 my earthly happiness ! " 
 
 Almost stifled by emotion, he put this poor relic of his 
 country into his bosom ; and remounting Iris horse, 
 crossed the bridge. 
 
 As one who, flying from any particular object, thinks to 
 lose himself and his sorrows, when it lessens to his view, 
 Sobieski pursued the remainder of his journey with a speed 
 which soon brought him to Dantzic. 
 
 Here he remained a few days, and during that interval 
 the firmness of his mind was restored. He felt a calm 
 ai'ising from the conviction, that his afflictions had gained 
 their summit ; and that, however heavy they were. Heaven 
 had laid them on him as a trial of faith and virtue. Under 
 this belief he ceased to weep ; but he never was seen to 
 smile. 
 
 Having entered into an agreement with the master of a 
 vessel to carry him across the sea, he found the strength of 
 his finances would barely defray the charges of the voyage. 
 Considering this circumstance, he saw the impossibility of 
 taking his horse to England. 
 
 The first time this idea presented itself, it almost over- 
 set his determined resignation. Tears would have started 
 into his eyes, had he not by force withheld them. 
 
 " To part from my faithful Saladin," said he to him- 
 self, " that has borne me since I first could use a sword ; 
 that has carried me through so many dangers ; and has 
 come with me, even into exile ; it is painful, it is ungrate- 
 ful ! " He was in the stable when this thought assailed 
 him ; and as the reflections followed each other, he again 
 turned to the stall ; " But, my poor fellow, I vrill not bar-
 
 THADDEVS 01' WARSAW. 95 
 
 ter your services for gold. I will seek for some master 
 who may be kind to you, in pity to my misfortunes." 
 
 He re-entered the hotel where he lodged, and calling a 
 waiter, enquired who occupied the fine mansion and park 
 on the east of the town. The man replied, " Mr. Hope- 
 town, an eminent liritish merchant, who has been settled 
 at Dantzic above forty years." 
 
 " I am glad he is a Briton ! " was the sentiment which 
 succeeded this information, in the Count's mind. He 
 immediately took his resolution, but hardly had prepared 
 to put it into execution, when he received a summons from 
 the captain to be on board in half an hour, as the Avind was 
 set fair. 
 
 Thaddeus, rather disconcerted by this hasty call, with a 
 depressed heart wrote the following letter : — 
 
 " To John Hopetown, Esq. 
 
 " Sir, 
 
 " A I'olish officer, who has sacrificed every thing but 
 his honour to the last interests of his country, now ad- 
 dresses you. 
 
 " You are a Briton ; and of whom can a victim to the 
 cause of freedom with less debasement solicit an obligation ? 
 
 " I cannot afford support to the horse which has carried 
 me through the battles of this fatal war, I disdain to sell 
 him ; and, therefore, I implore you, by the respect that 
 you pay to the memory of your ancestors, who struggled 
 for, and retained that liberty, in defence of which we are 
 thus reduced ! I implore you, to give him an asylum in 
 your park, and to protect him from injurious usage. 
 
 " Perform this benevolent action. Sir, and you shall ever 
 be remembered with gratitude, by an unfortunate 
 
 " Poi^VNDER. 
 "Dantzic, Xoveinhcr, 1"<)4.' 
 
 The Count having sealed and directed this letter, went 
 
 to the hotel-yard, and ordered that his horse might be 
 
 brought out. A few days of rest had restored him to his 
 
 former mettle ; and he appeared from the stable, prancing, 
 
 3*
 
 9Q 
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 and i^awing the earth, as he used to do when Thaddeus 
 was to mount him for the field. 
 
 The groom was striving in vain to restrain the spirit of 
 tfie horse, when the Count took hokl of his bridle. The 
 noble animal knew his master, and became gentle as a 
 Iamb. After stroking him two or three times, with a burst- 
 ing heart he returned the reins to the man's hand, and at 
 the same time gave him the letter. 
 
 " There," said he, "^ take that note, and the horse, di- 
 rectly, to the house of Mr. Hopetown. Leave them; for 
 the letter requires no answer." 
 
 This last pang mastered, he walked out of the yard to- 
 wards the quay. The wind continuing fair, he entered the 
 ship, and within an hour set sail for England. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 SoBiESKT passed the greater part of each day, and tlie 
 whole of every night, on the deck of the vessel. He was 
 too much absorbed in himself to receive any amusement 
 from the passengers ; who observing his melancholy, 
 thought to dispel it by their company and conversation. 
 
 ^Fhen any of these people came upon deck, he walked 
 to the head of the ship, took his seat upon the cable which 
 bound the anchor to the forecastle ; and while their fears 
 reaidered him safe from their well-meant persecution, lie 
 gained some respite from vexation, though none from 
 misery. 
 
 The ship having passed through the Baltic, and entered 
 on the British sea, the passengers running from side to 
 side of the vessel pointed out to Thaddeus the distant 
 filiore of England lying like a hazy ridge along the horizon. 
 The happy people, Avhilst they strained their eyes through 
 glasses, desired him to observe different spots on the 
 hardly perceptible line, which they called Flamborough 
 Head, and the hills of Yorkshire. His heart turned sick 
 at these objects of pleasure, for not one of them raised a
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 97 
 
 corresponding feeling in his breast. England could be 
 nothing to him ; if any thing, it would prove a desert, 
 which contained no one object for his regrets or wishes. 
 
 Tile image of Pembroke Somerset rose in his mind, like 
 the dim recollection of one who has been a long time dead. 
 AVliilst they were together at Mllanow, they loved each 
 other warmly ; and when they parted, they promised to 
 correspond. One day, in pursuit of the enemy, Thaddeus 
 was so unlucky as to lose the pocket-book wliich contained 
 his friend's address ; but yet, uneasy at his silence, he 
 ventured two letters to him, directed merely to Sir Robert 
 Somerset's, p]ngland. To these he received no answer ; 
 and the Palatine evinced so much displeasure at Pembroke's 
 neglect and ingratitude, that he would not suffer him to be 
 mentioned in his presence ; and indeed Thaddeus, from ths- 
 appointment and regret, felt no inclination to transgress the 
 command. 
 
 ^\nien the Count remembered these things, he found 
 little comfort in recollecting the name of that young Eng_ 
 Ushnian : and now that he was visiting England as a poor 
 exile, with indignation and grief he gave up the wish with 
 the hope of meeting Mr. Somerset. Sensible that Somerset 
 had not acted as became the man to whom he could apply 
 in his distress, he resolved, unfriended as he was, to wipe 
 him at once from his memory. With a bitter sigh he 
 turned his back on the land to which he was going, and 
 fixed his eyes on the tract of sea which divided him from 
 all that ever had given him delight. 
 
 > " Father of Mercy!" murmured he, in a suppressed 
 voice, " what have I done to deserve this misery ? "Why 
 have I been, at one stroke, deprived of all that rendered ex- 
 istence estimable ? Two months ago, I had a mother, a 
 more than father, to love and cherish me ; I had a country, 
 that looked up to them and to me, with veneration and con- 
 fidence ; now, I am bereft of all ; I have neither father, 
 mother, nor country, but am going to a land of strangers." 
 
 Such impatient adjurations were never rung from Sobi- 
 eski by the anguish of sudden torture, without his ingenu- 
 ous and pious mind reproaching itself for repining. His 
 Boul was soft as a woman's ; but it knew neither effeminacy 
 
 H
 
 98 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 nor despair. Whilst his heart bled^ his countenance re- 
 tained its serenity. AVTiilst affliction crushed him to the 
 earth, and nature paid a few hard wrung drops to her ex- 
 pected dissolution, he contemned his tears, and raised his 
 fixed and confiding eye to that power which poured down 
 its tempests on his head. Thaddeus felt as a man, but re- 
 ceived consolation as a Christian. 
 
 When the ship arrived at the mouth of the Thames, the 
 eagerness of the passengers increased to such an excess, that 
 they would not stand still, nor be silent a moment ; and 
 when the vessel, under full sail, passed Sheerness, and the 
 dome of St. Paul's appeared before them, their exclamations 
 were loud and incessant. " My home ! my parents ! my 
 wife ! my friends ! " were the burden of every tongue. 
 
 Thaddeus found his irritable spirits again disturbed ; 
 and rising from his seat he retired unobserved by the people, 
 who were too happy to attend to any thing which did not 
 agree with their own transports. The cabin was as deserted 
 as himself. Feeling that there is no solitude like that of 
 the heart, when it looks around and sees in the vast con- 
 course of human beings not one to whom it can pour forth 
 its sorrows, and in return receive the answering sigh of 
 sympathy, he threw himself on one of the lockers, and 
 with difficulty restrained the tears from gushing from his 
 eyes. He held his hand over them, while he contemned 
 himself for a weakness so unbecoming his character. 
 
 He despised himself: but let not others despise him. It 
 is difficult for those who are in prosperity, who lie morn- 
 ing and evening in the lap of indulgence, to conceive the 
 misery of being thrown out into a bleak and merciless 
 world : it is impossible for the happy man, surrounded by 
 luxury and gay companions, to figure to himself the reflec- 
 tions of a fellow-creature, who, having been fostered in the 
 bosom of affi^ction and elegance, is cast at once from so- 
 ciety, bereft of home, of comfort, of " every stay, save inno- 
 cence and Heaven." None but the wretched can imagine 
 what the wretched endure, from actual distress; from appre- 
 hended misfortune ; from outraged feelings ; and ten thou- 
 sand nameless sensibilities to injury, wliich only the unfor- 
 tunate can conceive, dread, and experience.
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 99 
 
 Such were the anticipating fears of the Count. Books, 
 and report, led him to respect the English : Pembroke So- 
 merset, at one time, would have taught him to love them : 
 but the nearer he advanced towards the shore, the remem- 
 brance that it was from this country his father came, made 
 liim doubt the humanity of a people, of which his own pa- 
 rent and forgetful friend were such detestable specimens. 
 
 The noise redoubled above his head ; and in a few mi- 
 nutes afterwards, one of the sailors came rumbling down 
 the stairs. 
 
 " Will it please Your Honour," said he, " to get up ? 
 That be my chest, and I want my clothes to clean myself 
 before I go on shore ; mother, I know, be waiting me at 
 Blackwall." 
 
 Thaddeus rose, and with a withered heart, again as- 
 cended to the deck. 
 
 On coming up the hatchway, he saw that the ship was 
 moored in the midst of a large city ; and was surrounded 
 by myriads of vessels, from every quarter of the globe. 
 Sobieski leaned over the railing, and in silence looked down 
 on the other passengers, who were bearing off in boats, 
 and shaking hands with the people who came to receive 
 them. 
 
 " It is near dark, sir," said the Captain ; " mayhap you 
 would like to go on shore .'' There is a boat just come 
 round, and the tide won't serve much longer ; and as your 
 friends don't seem to be coming for you, you are welcome 
 to a place in it with me." 
 
 The Count thanked him ; and after defraying the ex- 
 penses of the voyage, and giving money amongst the sea- 
 men, he desired that his portmanteau might be put into 
 the wherry. The honest fellows, in gratitude to the 
 bounty of their passenger, struggled who should obey 
 his commands ; when the captain, angry at being de- 
 tained, snatched away the baggage, and flinging it into 
 the boat leaped in after it, and was followed by Thaddeus. 
 
 The taciturnity of the sailor, and the deep melancholy 
 of his guest, did not break silence until they reached the 
 Tower Stairs. 
 
 " Go, Ben^ fetch the gentleman a coach." 
 H 2
 
 100 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 The Count bowed to the Captain, who gave the order ; 
 and in a few minutes the boy returned, saying there was 
 one in waiting. He took up the portmanteau, and Thad- 
 deus followed him to the Tower Gate, where the carriage 
 stood. Ben threw in the baggage : the Count put his 
 foot on the step. 
 
 " Where must the man drive to .'' " 
 
 Thaddeus drew it back again. 
 
 " Yes, sir," continued the lad ; " where is your Ho- 
 nour's home.''" 
 
 " In my grave," was the response his aching heart made 
 to this question. He hesitated before he spoke. " An 
 hotel," said he, flinging himself on the seat, and throwing 
 some silver into the sailor's hat. 
 
 " What hotel, sir ? " asked the coachman. 
 
 " Any." 
 
 The man closed the door, mounted his box, and drove off. 
 
 It was now near seven o'clock, of a dark December 
 evening. The lamps were lighted ; and it being Saturday 
 night, the streets were crowded with people. Thaddeus 
 looked at them as he was driven along : " Happy crea- 
 tures!" thought he, " you have each a home to go to; 
 you have each expecting friends to welcome you ; every 
 one of you knows some being in the world, who will smile 
 when you enter; whilst I, unhappy man ! am shut out from 
 every social comfort. Wretched, wretched Sobieski ! where 
 are now all thy highly prized treasures ; thy boasted glory ; 
 and those beloved friends who rendered that glory most 
 precious to thee } Alas ! all are withdrawn ; vanished like 
 a dream of enchantment ; from which I have indeed 
 awakened, to a frightful solitude." 
 
 His reflections were broken by the stopping of the car- 
 riage. The man opened the door. 
 
 " Sir, I have brought you to the Hummums, Covent 
 Garden ; it has as good accommodations as any in town. 
 My fare is five shillings." 
 
 Thaddeus gave the demand, and followed him, and his 
 baggage, into the coffee-room. At the entrance of a man 
 of his figure, several waiters presented themselves, begging 
 to know his commands.
 
 THADDELS OF WAUSAW. 101 
 
 " I want a chamber." 
 
 He was ushered into a very handsome dining-room, where 
 one of them laid down tlic portmanteau, and then bowing 
 low, enquired whether he had dined. 
 
 The waiter having received his orders (for the Count saw 
 that it was necessary to call for something), hastened into 
 the kitchen to communicate them to the cook. 
 
 " Upon my soul, Betty," cried he, " you must do your 
 best to-night ; for the chicken is for the finest-looking fellow 
 you ever set eyes on. By heaven, I believe him to be some 
 Russian nobleman ; perhaps the great Suwarrow himself."' 
 
 " A prince you mean, Jenkins !" said a pretty girl, who 
 entered at that moment : since I was born 1 never see'd any 
 English lord walk up and down a room with such an air ; 
 he looks like a king. For my part, I should not wonder if 
 he was one of them there emigrant kings ; for they say 
 there is a power of them now wandering about the world." 
 
 " You talk like a fool, Sally, " cried the sapient waiter. 
 " Don't you see that his dress is military .'' Look at his 
 black cap, with its long bag and great feather, and the 
 monstrous sabre at his side ; look at them, and then if you 
 can, say I am mistaken in pronouncing that he is some 
 great Russian commander, — most likely come over as am- 
 bassador !" 
 
 '' But he came in a hackney-coach," cried a little dirty 
 boy in the corner. " As I was running up stairs with Colonel 
 Leeson's shoes, I see'd the coachman bring in his port- 
 manteau." 
 
 '' AV'ell, Jack-a-napes, what of that .'' " cried Jenkins : 
 " Is a nobleman always to carry his equipage about him, 
 like a snail with its shell on its back ? To be sure, this 
 foreign lord, or prince, is only come to stay here, till his 
 own house is fit for him. I will be civil to him." 
 
 " And so will I, Jenkins," rejoined Sally, smiling ; for 
 I never see'd such handsome blue eyes in my born days ; 
 and they turned so sweet on me, and he spoke so kindly 
 Avhen he bade me stir the fire ; and when he sat down by 
 it, and throw'd off his great fur cloak, he showed a glitter- 
 ing star ; and a figure so noble, that indeed, cook, I do 
 verily believe, he is, as Jenkins says, an enthroned king ! " 
 
 ^EKPITY CF CALIFORNIA , 
 S/NTA BARBARA CCLLEGJE LIBRARY
 
 102 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 "■ You and Jenkins be a pair of fools," cried the cook, 
 who, without noticing their description, had been sulkily 
 jasting the fowl : " I will be sworn he's just such another 
 king, as that palavering rogue was a French duke, who got 
 my master's watch and pawned it ! As for you, Sally, you 
 Iiad better beware of hunting after foreign men-folk : it's 
 not seemly for a young woman, and you may chance to 
 rue it." 
 
 The moralising cook had now brought the whole kitchen 
 on her shoulders. The men abused her for a surly old 
 maid ; and the women tittered, whilst they seconded her 
 censure, by cutting sly jokes on the blushing face of poor 
 Sally, who stood almost crying, by the side of her champion 
 Jenkins. 
 
 Whilst this hubbub was going forward below stairs, its 
 unconscious subject was, as Sally had described, sitting in a 
 chair close to the fire, with his feet on the fender, his arms 
 folded, and his eyes bent on the flames. He mused ; but 
 his ideas followed each other in such quick and confused 
 succession, that it hardly coidd be said he thought of any 
 thing. 
 
 The entrance of dinner roused him from his reverie. It 
 was carried in by at least half a dozen waiters. The Count 
 had been so accustomed to a numerous suite of attendants, 
 he did not observe the parcelling out of his temperate meal; 
 one bringing in the fowl, another the bread, his neighbour 
 the solitary plate ; and the rest in like order : so solicitous 
 were the male listeners in the kitchen to see this wonderful 
 Russian. 
 
 Thaddeus partook but lightly of the refreshment. Being 
 already fatigued in body, and dizzy with the motion of the 
 vessel, as soon as the cloth was withdrawn, he ordered a 
 night-candle, and desired to be shown to his chamber. 
 
 Jenkins, whom the sight of the embi-oidered star con- 
 firmed in his decision that the foreigner must be a person 
 of consequence, with increased agility whipped up the port- 
 manteau, and led the way to the sleeping-rooms. Here, 
 curiosity put on a new form ; the women-servants, deter- 
 mined to have their wishes gratified as well as the men, had 
 arranged themselves on each side of the passage through
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 103 
 
 which the Count must pass. At so strange an appearance^ 
 Thaddeus drew back ; but supposing that it might be a 
 custom of the country, he proceeded through tliis fair bevy; 
 and bowed as he walked along, to the low courtesies, which 
 they continued to make until he entered his ajiartment and 
 closed the door. 
 
 The unhappy are ever restless : they hope in every change 
 of situation to obtain some alteration in their feelings. 
 Thaddeus was too miserable awake, not to view with eager- 
 ness, the bed on which he trusted that for a few hours at 
 least, he might loose his consciousness of suffering, with its 
 remembrance. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 When he awoke in the morning, his head aclied, and he 
 felt as unrcfreshed as when he had lain down ; he undrew 
 the curtain, and saw from the strength of the light it must 
 be mid-day. He got up ; and having dressed himself, 
 descended to the sitting room ; where he found a good fire, 
 and the breakfast already placed. He rang the bell ; and 
 walked to the window, to observe the appearance of the 
 morning. A heavy snow had fallen during the night ; and 
 the sun, ascended to its meridian, shone through the thick 
 atmosphere, like a ball of fire. All seemed comfortless 
 without ; and turning back to the warm hearth, which was 
 blazing at the other end of the room, he was reseating him- 
 self when Jenkins brought in the tea-urn. 
 
 " I hope, my Lord," said the waiter, " that your Lord- 
 ship slept well last night ? " 
 
 " Perfectly, I thank you," replied the Count, unmind- 
 ful that the man addressed him according to his rank ; 
 " when you come to remove these things, bring me my biU." 
 
 Jenkins bowed and withdrew ; congratulating himself on 
 his dexterity in having saluted the stranger with his title. 
 
 During the absence of the waiter, Thaddeus thought it 
 time to examine the state of his purse : he well recollected 
 how he had paid at Dantzic ; and from the style in which 
 H 4
 
 104 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 he was served here, he did not doubt but that to defray 
 what he had contracted would nearly exhaust his all. He 
 emptied the contents of his pocket into his hand ; a guinea, 
 and some silver, was all that he possessed. A flush of 
 terror suffiised itself over his face ; he had never known the 
 want of money before, and he trembled now, lest the charge 
 should exceed his means of payment. 
 
 Jenkins entered with the bill. On the Count's examin- 
 ing it, he was pleased to find it amounted to no more than 
 the only piece of gold his purse contained. He laid it upon 
 the tea-board, and putting half-a-crown into the hand of 
 Jenkins, who appeared waiting for something, wrapped his 
 cloak round him, and was walking out of the room." 
 
 " I suppose, my Lord," cried Jenkins, pocketing the 
 money with a smirk, and bowing with the things in his 
 hands, " we are to have the honour of seeing your Lord- 
 ship again, as you leave your portmanteau behind you ? " 
 
 Thaddeus hesitated a few seconds, then again moving 
 towards the door, said, " I will send for it." 
 
 " By what name, my Lord ? " 
 
 " The Count Sobieski." 
 
 Jenkins immediately set down the tea-board, and hurry- 
 ing after Thaddeus along the passage and through the 
 coffee-room, darted before him, and opening the door for 
 him to go out, exclaimed loud enough for every body to 
 hear, " Depend upon it. Count Sobieski, I will take care of 
 your Lordship's baggage." 
 
 Thaddeus, rather displeased at his noisy officiousness, 
 only bent his head, and proceeded into the street. 
 
 The air was piercing cold ; and on his looking around, 
 he perceived by the disposition of the square in which he 
 was, that it must be a market-place. The booths and stands 
 were covered with snow ; whilst parts of the pavement were 
 rendered nearly impassable by heaps of black ice which the 
 market people of the preceding day had shovelled up out of 
 their way.* He now recollected that it was Sunday, and 
 consecjucntly the improbability of finding any lodgings on 
 that day. 
 
 * Those wlio roincmber the terrible winter of 179+, will not call this descrip- 
 tion exaggerated.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 105 
 
 • He stood under the piazzas for two or three iniiuites, 
 bewildered on the plan he sliould adopt ; to return to thi 
 hotel for any purpose but to sleep^ in the present state of 
 his finances, would be impossible : he therefore gave him- 
 self up, inclement as the season was, to walk the streets 
 until night. He might then go back to the Hummums to 
 his bed-ciiamber ; but he resolved to quit it in the morning, 
 for a residence more suitable to the reduction of his for- 
 tunes. 
 
 The wind blew a keen north-east, accompanied with a 
 violent shower of sleet and rain ; yet such was the abstrac- 
 tion of his mind, that he hardly observed its bitterness, but 
 walked on, careless whither his feet led him, until he stopped 
 opposite to St. JMartin's church. 
 
 " God is my only friend," said he to himself; " and in 
 his house, I shall surely find shelter !" 
 
 He turned up the steps, and was entering the porch, 
 when he met the congregation thronging out of it. 
 
 " Is the service over.^" he enquired of a decent old 
 woman, who was passing him down the stairs. The woman 
 started at this question, asked her in English by a person 
 whose dress was so completely foreign. He repeated it ; 
 and smiling and courtesying, she replied — 
 
 " Yes, sir ; and I am sorry for it. Lord bless your 
 handsome face, though you be a stranger gentleman, it does 
 one's heart good to see you so devoutly given I " 
 
 Thaddeus blushed at this personal compliment, though it 
 came from the lips of a wrinkled old woman ; and begging 
 permission to assist her down the stairs, he asked when 
 service would begin again. 
 
 " At three o'clock, sir, and may Heaven bless the mother 
 who bore so pious a son ! " 
 
 As the poor woman spoke, she raised her eyes with a 
 melancholy resignation. The Count touched with her words 
 and manner, almost unconsciously to himself, continued by 
 her side as she hobbled down the street. 
 
 His eyes were fixed on the ground, until, as he walked 
 forward, somebody pressing against him, made him look 
 round. He saw that his aged companion had just knocked
 
 106 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 at the door of a mean-looking house ; and that his new ac- 
 quaintance and himself were surrounded by nearly a dozen 
 people, besides boys, who through curiosity had followed 
 them from the church porch. 
 
 " Ah ! sweet sir," cried she; " these folks are staring at 
 so fine a gentleman taking notice of age and poverty." 
 
 Thaddeus was uneasy at the inquisitive gaze of the by- 
 standers ; and his companion observing the fluctuations of 
 his countenance, added, as the door was opened by a Uttle 
 girl— 
 
 " Will your Honour walk in out of the rain, and warm 
 yourself by my poor fire ? " 
 
 He hesitated a moment ; then, accepting her invitation, 
 bent his head to get under the humble door- way ; and fol- 
 lowing her through a neatly sanded passage, entered a small 
 but clean kitchen. A little boy, who Avas sitting on a stool 
 near the fire, uttered a scream at the sight of a stranger; and 
 running up to his grandmother, rolled himself in her cloak, 
 crying out — 
 
 " Mammy, mammy, take away that black man ! " 
 
 " Be quiet, William ; it is a gentleman, and no black 
 man. I am so ashamed, sir ; but he is only three years old." 
 
 " I should apologise to you," returned the Count, smiling, 
 " for introducing a person so hideous as to frighten your 
 family." 
 
 By the time he finished speaking, the good dame had pa- 
 cified the screaming child; who stood trembhng, and looking 
 askance, at the tremendous black gentleman stroking the head 
 of his pretty sister. 
 
 '' Come here, my dear ! " said Thaddeus, seating himself 
 by the fire, and stretching out his hand to the child. It in- 
 stantly buried its head in its grandmother's apron. 
 
 " William ! William ! " cried his sister, pulling him by 
 the arm, " the gentleman will not hurt you." 
 
 The boy again lifted up his head. Thaddeus threw back 
 his long sable cloak, and taking off his cap, whose hearse- 
 like plumes, he thought, might have terrified the child, he 
 laid it on the ground ; and again stretching forth his arms, 
 called the boy to approach him. Little "\^^illiam now looked 
 steadfastly in his face,and then on the ^ap, which he had laid
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 107 
 
 beside liim ; and then, whilst he grasped his grandmother's 
 apron with one hand, he held out the other, half assured, 
 towards the Count. Thaddeus took it, and pressing it softly, 
 pulled him gently to him, and placing him on his knee, 
 " jNIy little fellow," said he, kissing him, " you are not 
 frightened now ?" 
 
 " No, " said the child; " I see you are not the ugly black 
 man, who takes away naughty boys. The ugly black man 
 has a black face, and snakes on his head; but these are pretty 
 curls!" added he, laughing, and putting his little fingers 
 through the thick auburn hair, which hung in neglected 
 masses over the forehead of the Count. 
 
 " I am ashamed your Honour should sit in a kitchen," 
 rejoined the old lady; " but I have not a fire in any other 
 room." 
 
 " Yes," said her grand-daughter, who was about twelve 
 years old, " grandmother has a nice first floor up stairs; but 
 because we have no lodgers, there be no fire there." 
 
 ** Be silent, Nanny Robson," said the dame : " your 
 pertness teases the gentleman." 
 
 " O, not at all," cried Thaddeus ; " I ought to thank her, 
 for she informs me you have lodgings to let ; will you allow 
 me to engage them ? " 
 
 " You, sir," cried Mrs. Robson, thunderstruck, " for what 
 purpose .'' Surely so noble a gentleman Avould not live in such 
 a place as this." 
 
 " I would, Mrs. Robson: I '^know not where I could 
 live with more comfort ; and where comfort is, my good 
 madam, what signifies the costliness or plainness of the 
 dwelling ? " 
 
 " Well, sir, if you be indeed serious ; but I cannot think 
 you so : you are certainly making a joke of me, for my bold- 
 ness in asking you into my poor house." 
 
 " Upon my honour, I am not, Mrs. Robson. I would 
 gladly be your lodger, if you will admit me ; and to convince 
 you that I am in earnest, my portmanteau shall this moment 
 be brought here." 
 
 " WeW, sir," resumed she, " I shall be honoured in having 
 you in my house ; but I have no room for any one but your- 
 self, not even for a servant."
 
 108 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 " I have no servant." 
 
 " Then I will wait on him, grandmother," cried the little 
 Nanny ; " do let the gentleman have them, I am sure he 
 looks honest." 
 
 The old woman coloured at this last observation of the 
 child, and proceeded. 
 
 " Then, sir, if you should not disdain the rooms when 
 you see them, I shall be too happy in having so good a 
 gentleman under my roof. Pardon my boldness, sir ; but 
 may I ask } I think by your dress, you are a foreigner .'' " 
 
 " I am," replied Thaddeus, the radiance which played 
 over his features contracting into a gloom ; " if you have no 
 objection to take a stranger within your doors, from this 
 hour I shall consider your house as my home ? " 
 
 " As your Honour pleases," said Mrs. Robson : " my 
 terms are half-a-guinea a week; and I will attend on you, as 
 though you were my own son ! for I cannot forget, excellent 
 young gentleman, the way in which we first met." 
 
 " Then I will leave you for the present," returned he, 
 rising, and putting down the little William, who had been 
 amusing himself with examining the silver points of the 
 star of St. Stanislavis, which the Count wore on his breast : 
 " In the mean while," said he, " my pretty friend," stooping 
 to the child, " let this bit of silver," was just mounting to 
 his tongue, as he put his hand into his pocket to take out 
 half-a-crown ; but he recollected that his necessities would 
 no longer admit of such gifts ; and drawing his hand back, 
 with a deep and bitter sigh, he touched the boy's cheek 
 with his lips, and added, '^ let this kiss remind you of your 
 new friend." 
 
 This was the first time the generous spirit of Sobieski 
 had been restrained ; and he suffered a pang, for the poig- 
 nancy of which he could not account. His had been a Ufe 
 accustomed to acts of munificence. His grandfather's pa- 
 lace was the asylum of the unhajipy ; his grandfather's purse, 
 a treasury for the unfortunate. The soul of Thaddeus did 
 not degenerate from his noble relative : his generosity, be- 
 gun in inclination, was nurtured by reflection, and strength- 
 ened with a daily exercise which rendered it a habit of his 
 nature. AVant never appeared before him, without exciting
 
 TIIADDKUS OF WARSAW. 1 0.Q 
 
 a sympathetic emotion in his heart, which never rested until 
 he hail administered every comfort in the power of weahli 
 to bestow. His compassion and his purse were the substance 
 and shadow of eacli other. The poor of his country tluonged 
 from every part of the kingdom, to receive pity and relief 
 at his liands. W^ith these houseless wanderers, he peopled 
 the new villages his grandfather had erected in the midst of 
 lands, which in former times were tlie haunts of wild beasts. 
 Thaddeus participated in the happiness of his grateful 
 tenants ; and many were the old men whose eyes he had 
 closed in thankfulness and peace. These honest peasants, 
 even in their dying moments, wished to give up that life in 
 his arms, which he had rescued from misery. He visited 
 their cottage; he smoothed their pillow; he joined in their 
 prayers : and when their last sigh came to his ear, he raised 
 the Aveeping family from the dust, and cheered them with 
 pious exhortations, and his kindest assurances of protection. 
 How often has the Countess clasped her beloved son to her 
 breast, when after a scene like this he had returned home, 
 the tears of the dying man and his children yet wet upon 
 his hand ! how often has she strained him to her heart, 
 whilst floods of rapture have poured from her own eyes! 
 Heir to the first fortune in Poland, he scarcely knew the 
 means by which he bestowed all these benefits ; and with a 
 soul as bounteous to others, as Heaven had been munificent 
 to him, wherever he moved, he shed smiles and gifts around 
 him. How frequently has he said to the Palatine, when 
 his carriage-wheels were chased by the thankful multitude, 
 " O, my father ! how can I ever be sufficiently grateful to 
 God, for the happiness he hath allotted to me, in making 
 me the dispenser of so many blessings ! The gratitude of 
 these people overpowers and humbles me in my own eyes ; 
 what have I done to be so eminently favoured of Heaven ? 
 I tremble when I ask myself the question." — " You may 
 tremble, my dear boy," replied his grandfather, " for indeed 
 the trial is a severe one : prosperity, like adversity, is an 
 ordeal of conduct. Two roads are before the rich man ; 
 vanity or virtue : you have chosen the latter, and the best : 
 and may Heaven ever hold you in it ! i\Iay Heaven ever 
 keep your heart generous and pure ! Go on, my dear Thad-
 
 110 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 deus, as you have commenced ; and you will find, that your 
 Creator hath bestowed wealth upon you, not for what you 
 have done, but as the means of evincing how well you would 
 prove yourself His faithful steward. " 
 
 This was the fortune of Thaddeus ; and now, he who 
 had scattered thousands without counting them, drew back 
 his hand with something like horror at his own injustice, 
 when he was going to give away one little piece of silver — 
 which he might want in a day or two, to defray some indis- 
 pensable debt. 
 
 " Mrs. Robson," said he, as he replaced his cap upon his 
 head, " I shall return before it is dark." 
 
 " Very well, sir ;" and opening the door, he went out 
 into the lane. 
 
 Ignorant of the town, and thanking Providence for having 
 prepared him an asylum, he directed his course towards 
 Charing Cross. He looked about him with deepened sad- 
 ness ; the wet and plashy state of the streets gave to every 
 object so comfortless an appeai'ance he could scarcely believe 
 himself to be in that London, of which he had read with so 
 much delight. ^Fhere were the magnificent buildings he 
 expected to see in the emporium of the world } Where that 
 cleanliness, and those tokens of greatness and splendour, 
 which had been the admiration and boast of travellers ? Hfe 
 could no where discover them ; aU seemed parts of a dark, 
 gloomy, mean-looking city. 
 
 Hardly heeding whither he went, he approached the 
 Horse-Guards ; a view of the Park, as it appears through 
 the wide porch, promised him less unpleasantness than the 
 dirty pavement, and he turned in, taking his way along the 
 Bird-Cage Walk.* 
 
 The trees, stripped of their leaves, stood naked, and 
 dripping with melted snow. The season was in unison 
 with the Count's fate. He was taking the bitter wind for 
 
 * The young readers of Iheso few preceding pages will not recognise this de- 
 scription of St. Martin's Lane, Charing Cross, and St. James's Park, in 1794, 
 in what they now see there in 1831. St.^Martin's noble church was then the 
 centre of the east side of a long, narrow, and somewhat dirty lane of mean 
 houses, particularly in the end below the church. Charing Cross, with its ad- 
 joining streets, showed nothing better than plain tradesmen's shops ; and it was 
 not till we saw the Admiralty, and entered the Horse Guards, that any thing 
 Iiriscnted itself worthy the great name of London. The Park is almost com- 
 pletely altered.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. Ill 
 
 his repast, and quenching his thirst with the rain that fell 
 on his pale and feverish lip : he felt the cutting blast enter 
 his breast ; and shutting his eye-lids to repel the tears 
 which were rising from his heart, he walked faster ; but in 
 spite of himself, their drops mingled with the wet that 
 trickled from his cap upon his face. One melancholy 
 thought introduced another, until his agitated soul lived 
 over again, in memory, every calamity which had reduced 
 him from happiness to misery. Two or three heavy con- 
 vidsive sighs followed these reflections ; and quickening his 
 pace, he walked once or twice quite round tlie Park. The 
 rain ceased. Hardly observing the people who passed, he 
 threw himself down upon one of the chairs, and sat in a 
 musing posture, with his eyes fixed on the opposite tree. 
 
 A sound of voices approaching, roused him ; turning his 
 eyes, he saw the speakers were two young men, and by their 
 dress, he judged they nmst belong to the regiment of the 
 centinel who was patrolling at the end of the IVlaU. 
 
 " By Heavens, Berrington," cried one, " it is the best- 
 shaped boot I ever beheld ! I have a good mind to ask him 
 whether it be English make." 
 
 "And if it be," replied the other, " you must ask him 
 who made his legs, that you may send yours to be mended." 
 
 1^' Who the devil can see my legs through that boot ? " 
 
 " Oh, if to hide them be your reason, pray ask him im- 
 mediately." 
 
 '^ And so I will, for I think the boot perfection." 
 
 At these words, he was making towards Sobieski with 
 two or three long strides^ when his companion pulled him 
 back. 
 
 " Surely, Harwold, you will not be so ridiculous ? He 
 appears to be a foreigner of rank ; and may take offence, 
 and give you the length of his foot !" 
 
 " Curse him and his rank too ; he is some paltry emi- 
 grant, I warrant ! I care nothing about his foot or his legs, 
 but I will know who made his boots ! " 
 
 As he spoke, he would have dragged his companion along 
 with him, but Berrington broke from his arm ; and the fool, 
 who now thought himself dared to it, strode up close to the 
 chair, and bowed to Thaddeus, who (hardly crediting that
 
 112 THADDEUS OF WARSAW, 
 
 he could be the subject of this dialogue) returned the salu- 
 tation with a cold bend of his head. 
 
 Harwold looked a little confounded at this haughty de- 
 meanour; and once in his life blushing at his own insolence, 
 he roared out, as in defiance of shame — 
 
 " Pray, sir, where did you get yoin* boots ? " 
 
 " Where I got my sword, sir," replied Thaddeus, calmly; 
 and, rising from his seat, he darted his eyes disdainfully on 
 the coxcomb, and walked slowly down the j\Iall. Surjirised 
 and shocked at such behaviour in a British officer, as he 
 moved away he distinctly heard Berrington laughing aloud, 
 and ridiculing the astonishment, and set-down air, of his 
 impudent associate. 
 
 This incident did not so much ruffle the temper of Thad- 
 deus, as it amazed and perplexed him. 
 
 " Is this a specimen," thought he, " of a nation Avhich 
 on the Continent is venerated for courage, manliness, and 
 generosity ? Well, I find I have much to learn. I must 
 ,^0 through the ills] of life, to estimate myself thoroughly; 
 and I must study mankind in themselves, and not in their 
 history, to have a true knowledge of what they are." 
 
 This strange rencontre was of service to him, by divert- 
 ing his mind from the intense contemplation of his situ- 
 ation ; and as the dusk drew on, he turned his steps towards 
 the Hummums. 
 
 On entering the coffee-room he was met by the obsequious 
 Jenkins ; who, being told by Thaddeus that he wanted his 
 baggage and a carriage, went for the things himself, and 
 sent a boy for a coach. 
 
 A man drest in black was standing by the chimney, and 
 seemed to be eyeing Thaddeus, as he walked up and down, 
 with great attention. Just as he had taken another turn, 
 and drew near him, the stranger accosted him rather ab- 
 ruptly — 
 
 " Pray, sir, are there any news stirring abroad ? you 
 seem, sir, to be come from abroad." 
 
 " None, that 1 know of, sir." 
 
 " Bless me, that's strange. I thought, sir, you came 
 from abroad, sir ; from the Continent, from Poland, sir .'' 
 at least the waiter said so, sir."
 
 TU ADDEUS OF WARSAW. 113 
 
 Thaddeus coloured : " The waiter, sir ?" 
 " I mean, sir." continued the gentleman, visibly confused 
 at the dilemma into whicli he had brought himself, " the 
 waiter said that you were a Count, sir; a Polish Count; 
 indeed the Count Sobieski ! Hence I concluded that you 
 are from Poland. If I have offended, I beg pardon, sir ; 
 but in these times we are anxious for every intelligence." 
 
 Thaddeus made no other reply, than a slight inclination 
 of his head ; and walking forward to see whether the coach 
 were arrived, he thought- — whatever travellers had related 
 of the English — they were the most impertinent people in 
 the world. 
 
 The stranger would not be contented with what he had 
 already said ; but plucking up new courage, pursued the 
 Count to the glass door through which he was looking, and 
 resumed. 
 
 " I believe, sir, I am not wrong ? you are the Count 
 Sobieski ; and I have the honour to be now speaking Avith 
 the bravest champion of Polish liberty !" 
 
 Thaddeus again bowed ; " I thank you, sir, for the com- 
 pliment you intend me, but I cannot take it to myself; all 
 the men of Poland, old and young, nobles and peasants, 
 were her champions, equally sincere, equally brave." 
 
 Nothing could silence the inquisitive stranger : the coach 
 drew up, but he went on. 
 
 " Then I hope, that many of these patriots, besides Your 
 Excellency, have taken care to bring away their wealth from 
 a land which is now abandoned to destruction ? " 
 
 For a moment Thaddeus forgot himself in his country ; 
 and all her rights, and all her sufferings, rose in his coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 " No, sir ! Not one of those men ; and least of all, would 
 I have drawn one vital drop from her heart ! I left in her 
 bosom all that was dear to me; all that I possessed; and 
 not until I saw the chains brought before my eyes, that 
 were to lay her in irons, did I turn my back on calamities 
 I could no longer avert or alleviate." 
 
 The ardour of his manner, and the elevation of his voice, 
 had drawn the attention of every person in the room upon 
 I
 
 114 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 him, when Jenkins entered with his baggage. The door 
 being opened, Sobieski^got into the coach, and gladly hastened 
 from a conversation which had awakened all his griefs. 
 
 " Ah, poor enthusiast !" exclaimed his inquisitor, as the 
 carriage drove off: " It is a pity that so fine a young man 
 should have made so ill a use of his birth, and other ad- 
 vantages ! " 
 
 " He appears to me," observed an old clergyman who 
 sat in an adjoining box, " to have made the best possible 
 use of his natural advantages ; and had I a son, I woidd 
 rather hear him utter such a sentiment as that with which 
 he quitted the room, than see him master of millions." 
 
 " May be so," cried the questioner, with a disdainful 
 glance, 'different minds incline to different objects!' His 
 has decided for 'the wonderful, the wild;' and a pretty end 
 he has made of his choice ! " 
 
 " Why to be sure," observed another spectator, " young 
 people should be brought up with reasonable ideas of right 
 and wrong, and prudence : nevertheless, I should not like 
 a son of mine to run harum-scarum through my property, 
 and his own life ; and yet one cannot help, when one hears 
 •such a brave speech, as that from yon Frenchman, just 
 gone out, — I say, one cannot help thinking it very fine." 
 
 " True, true," cried the inquisitor, " you are right, sir; 
 very fine, indeed, but too fine to wear ; it woidd soon leave 
 us naked, as it has done him ; for it seems, by his own con- 
 fession, he is pennyless ; and I know, a twelvemonth ago, 
 he was heir to a fortune which, however incalculable, he 
 has managed with all his talents to see the end of." 
 
 "Then he is in distress!" exclaimed the clergyman, 
 " and you know him : Avhat is his name ? " 
 
 The man coloured at this unexpected inference ; and glad 
 the company had not attended to the part of the dialogue in 
 which the name of Sobieski was mentioned, — he stam- 
 mered some indistinct words, took up his hat, and looking 
 at his watch, begged pardon, having an appointment; — 
 and hurried out of the room without speaking farther ; 
 although the good clergyman, whose name was Blackmore, 
 hastened after him, requesting to know where the young 
 foreigner lived.
 
 THADDEt'S OP "n-ARSAW. 115 
 
 *' M'lw is that coxcomb ? " cried the disconcerted doctor, 
 as he returned from his unavaiUng application. 
 
 " I don't know, sir," rephed the waiter : " I never saw 
 him in this house before last night, when he came in late to 
 sleep ; and this morning he was in the cofFee-room at break- 
 fast, just as that foreign gentleman walked through ; and 
 Jenkins bawling his name out very loud, as soon as he was 
 gone, this here gentleman asked him, who that Count was. 
 I heard Jenkins say some Russian name; and tell him he 
 came last night, and likely would come back again ; and so, 
 that there gentleman has been loitering about all day till 
 now, when the foreign gentleman coming in, he spoke to 
 him." 
 
 " And don't you know any thing further of this fo- 
 reigner ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; I forget what he is called ; — but I see Jen- 
 kins going across the street ; shall I run after him and ask 
 him ? " 
 
 " You are very obliging," returned the old man ; " but 
 does Jenkins know where the stranger lives ?" 
 " No, sir ; I am sure he don't." 
 
 " I am sorry for it," sighed the kind questioner : " then 
 your enquiry would be of no use ; his name will not do, 
 without his direction. — Poor fellow ! He has been unfor- 
 tunate, and I might have befriended him." 
 
 " Yes, to be sure. Doctor," cried the first speaker, who 
 now rose to accompany him out : " it is our duty to befriend 
 the unfortunate ; but charity begins at home ; and as all's for 
 the best, perhaps it is lucky we did not hear any more about 
 this young fellow. AYe might have involved ourselves in a 
 vast deal of unnecessary trouble ; and you know people from 
 outlandish parts have no claims upon us." 
 
 " Certainly," replied the Doctor, ''^ none in the world, 
 excepting those which no human creature can dispute, — the 
 claims of nature. All mankind are born heirs of suffering : 
 and as joint inheritors, if we do not wipe away each other's 
 tears, it will prove but a comfortless jiortion." 
 
 " Ah ! Doctor, " cried his companion, as they separated 
 at the end of Charles Street, " you have always the best of 
 I 2
 
 116 THADDEUS OF WARSAW, 
 
 the argument : you have logic and Aristotle at your finger 
 ends." 
 
 " No, my friend ; my arguments are purely Christian. 
 Nature is my logic, and the Bible my teacher." 
 
 " Ah, there you have me again. You parsons are as bad 
 as the lawyers ; when once you get a poor sinner amongst 
 you, he finds it as hard to get out of the church as out of 
 the chancery. However, have it your own way ; charity is 
 your trade, and I won't be in a hurry to dispute the 
 monopoly. Good day. If I stay much longer, you '11 make 
 me believe that black is white." 
 
 Dr. Blackmore shook him by the hand, and wishing him 
 a good evening, returned home, pitying the worldliness of 
 his friends 's mind, and musing on the interesting stranger, 
 whom he admired and compassionated with a lively sorrow, 
 for he believed him to be virtuous, unhappy, and unfortu- 
 nate. Had he known that the object of his solicitude was 
 tlie illustrious subject of many a former eulogium from 
 himself, how increased would have been his regret ; — that 
 he had seen the Count Sobieski ; that he had seen him in 
 distress ; and tliat he had suffered him to pass out of the reach 
 of his services ! 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The Count Sobieski was cordially received by his worthy 
 landlady ; indeed he never stood in more need of kindness. 
 A slow fever, which had been gradually creeping over him 
 since he quitted Poland, settled on his nerves ; and reduced 
 liim to such weakness, that he possessed neither strength 
 nor spirits to stir abroad. 
 
 Mrs. Ilobson was greatly distressed at the illness of her 
 guest : her own son, the fatlier of the orphans she protected, 
 had died of a consumption ; and any appearance of that 
 cruel disorder was a certain call upon her compassion. 
 
 Thaddeus gave himself up to her management : he had
 
 TIIADPEUS OF WARSAW. 117 
 
 no money for medical assistance ; and, to please her, he 
 took what little medicines she prepared. According to her 
 advice, he remained for several days shut up in his chamber, 
 with a large fire, and the shutters closed, to exclude the 
 smallest portion of that air, which the good woman thought 
 had already stricken him with death. 
 
 But all would not do ; her patient became worse and 
 worse. Frightened at the symptoms, Mrs. Robson begged 
 leave to send for the apothecary who had attended her 
 deceased son. In this instance only, she found the Count 
 obstinate : no arguments, nor even her tears, could move 
 him. When she stood weeping, and holding his burning 
 hand, his answer was constantly the same. 
 
 " My excellent Mrs. Robson, do not grieve on my 
 account ; I am not in the danger you think ; I shall do very 
 well with your assistance." 
 
 '' No, no ; I see death in your eyes. Can I feel this 
 hand, and see that hectic cheek, without beholding your 
 grave, as it were, opening before me ? " 
 
 She was not much mistaken ; for during the night after 
 this debate Thaddeus grew so delirious, that no longer able 
 to subdue her terrors, she sent for the apothecary to come 
 histantly to her house. 
 
 " Oh ! Doctor," cried she, as he ascended the stairs, " I 
 have the best young gentleman exer the sun shone on, dying 
 in that room ! He would not let me send for you ; and now 
 he is raving like a mad creature." 
 
 Mr. Vincent entered the Count's humble apartment, and 
 undrew the curtains of the bed. Exhausted by delirium, 
 Thaddeus had sunk senseless on the pillow. At this sight, 
 supposing him dead, Mrs. Robson uttered a shriek, which 
 was echoed by the cries of the little ^V^illiam, who stood 
 near his grandmother. 
 
 " Hush, my good woman," said the Doctor, " the gentle- 
 man is not dead ; leave the room till you have recovered 
 yourself, and I will engage that you shall see him alive 
 when you return." 
 
 Considering his words as oracles, she quitted the room 
 with her grandson. 
 
 I 3
 
 118 TQADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 On entering the chamber^ Mr. Vincent had felt that the 
 hot and stifling state of the room must augment the fever of 
 his patient ; and^ before he attemjited to disturb him from 
 the temporary rest of insensibihty^ he opened the window- 
 shutters, unclosed the room-door wide enough to admit the 
 air from the adjoining apartment; and pulling the heavy 
 clothes from the Count's bosom, raised his head on his arm, 
 and poured some drops into his mouth. Sobieski opened 
 his eyes, and uttered a few incoherent words : but he did 
 not rave, he only wandered ; and appeared to know that he 
 did so ; for he several times stopped in the midst of some 
 confused speech, and laying his hand on his forehead, strove 
 to recollect himself. 
 
 Mrs. Robson soon after entered the room, and poured out 
 her thanks to the apothecary, whom she revered as almost a 
 worker of miracles. 
 
 " I must bleed him, Mrs. Robson," continued he ; " and 
 for that purpose shall go home for my assistant and lancets; 
 but, in the mean while, I charge you to let every thing 
 remain in the state I have left it. The heat alone would 
 have given a fever to a man in health." 
 
 When the apothecary returned he saw that his commands 
 had been strictly obeyed ; and finding that the change of 
 atmosphere had Avrought some alteration in his patient, he 
 took his arm without any difficulty, and bled him. At the 
 end of the operation Thaddeus again fainted. 
 
 " Poor gentleman!" cried Mr. Vincent, binding up the 
 arm : " look here, Tom," pointing to the scars on the 
 Count's shoulder and breast; " see what terrible cuts have 
 been here ! This has not been playing at soldiers ! Who is 
 your lodger, Mrs. Robson ? " 
 
 " His name is Constantine, Mr. Vincent; but for Heaven's 
 sake, recover him from that swoon." 
 
 Mr. Vincent poured more drops into his mouth ; and a 
 minute afterwards, lie opened his eyes, divested of their 
 feverish glare, but still dull and heavy. He spoke to Mrs. 
 Robson by her name ; which gave her such delight, that 
 she caught his hand to her lips, and burst into tears. The 
 action was so instantaneous and violent, that it made him 
 feel the stiffness of his arm ; and, casting his eyes towards
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 119 
 
 the surgeons, lie conjectured what had been his state, and 
 what the consequence. 
 
 " Come, Mrs. Ilobson," said the apothecary, " you must 
 not disturb the gentleman. How do you find yourself", sir.-*" 
 
 As the deed could not be recalled, Thaddeus thanked the 
 Doctor for the service he had received ; and said a few kind 
 and grateful words to his good hostess. 
 
 Mr. Vincent was glad to see so promising an issue to his 
 proceedings, and soon after retired with his assistant and 
 Mrs. Ilobson, to give further directions. 
 
 On entering the kitchen, she threw herself into a chair, 
 and broke into a paroxysm of lamentations. 
 
 " My good woman, what is all this about .'' " enquired 
 the Doctor. " Is not my patient better?" 
 
 " Yes," cried she, drying her eyes; "^ but the whole 
 scene puts me so in mind of the last moments of my poor 
 misguided son, that the very sight of it goes through my 
 heart like a knife. Oh ! had ray boy been as good as that 
 dear gentleman, had he been as well prepared to die, I 
 think I would scarcely have grieved ! Yet Heaven spare 
 Mr. Constantine. AV^ill he live .'' " 
 
 " I hope so, INIrs. Ilobson ; his fever is high ; but he is 
 young, and with extreme care we may preserve him." 
 
 " The Lord grant it ! " cried she, " for he is the best 
 gentleman 1 ever beheld. He has been above a week with 
 me ; and till this night, in which he lost his senses, though, 
 hardly able to breathe or see, he has read out of books which 
 he brought with him ; and good books too : for it was but 
 yesterday morning that I saw the dear soul sitting by the 
 fire with a book on the table, which he had been studying 
 for an hour : as I was dusting about, I saw him lay his 
 head down on it, and put his hand to his temples. ' Alas! 
 sir,' said I, ' you tease your brains with these books of 
 learning, when you ought to be taking rest.' — ' No, i\Irs. 
 Robson,' returned he, with a sweet smile, ' it is this book 
 which affords me rest — I may amuse myself with others ; 
 but this alone contains perfect beauty, perfect wisdom, and 
 perfect peace. It is the only infallible soother of human 
 sorrows.' He closed it, and put it on the chimney-i)iece ; 
 and when 1 looked at it afterwards, I found it was tlie 
 1 4
 
 120 THADDEt'S OP WARSAW. 
 
 Scriptures. — Can you wonder that I should love so excel- 
 lent a gentlemen?" 
 
 " You have given a strange account of him," replied 
 Vincent : " I hope he is not a methodist ; if so, I shall 
 despair of his cure, and think his delirium had another 
 cause besides fever." 
 
 " A methodist ! No, sir : he is a Christian ; and as good 
 a reasonable sweet-tempered gentleman as ever came into 
 a house. Alas ! I believe he is more like a papist ; though 
 they say papists don't read the Bible, but worship images." 
 
 " Why, what reason have you to suppose that.'' He's an 
 Englishman, is he not .^ " 
 
 " No, he is an emigrant." 
 
 '' An emigrant ! Oh, ho!" cried Vincent, with a discon- 
 tented and contemptuous raise of his eye-brows; what, a 
 poor Frenchman ! Good Lord, how this town is over-run 
 with these fellows ! " 
 
 " No, Doctor," exclaimed Mrs. Robson, much hurt at 
 this affront to her lodger, whom she really loved, " what- 
 ever he be, he is not poor, for he has a i)ower of fine things: 
 he has got a watch all over diamonds, and diamond rings, 
 and diamond pictures without number. So, Doctor, you 
 need not fear you are attending him for charity ; no, I 
 would sell my gown first." 
 
 " Nay, don't be oflfended, Mrs. Robson ! I meant no 
 offence," returned he, much mollified by tliis explanation ; 
 " but really, when we see the bread that should feed our 
 children, and our own poor, eaten up by a parcel of lazy 
 French drones, who cover our land and destroy its produce 
 like a swarm of filthy locusts, we should be fools not to 
 murmur. But Mr. — Mr. ■^, what did you call him, Mrs. 
 Robson ? is a different sort of a body." 
 
 " Mr. Constantine," replied she, " and indeed he is ; 
 and no doubt, when you recover him, he will pay you as 
 tliough he were in his own country." 
 
 This last assertion banished all remaining suspicion from 
 the apothecary ; and, after giving the good woman what 
 orders he thought requisite, he returned home, promising 
 to call in the evening. 
 
 IVIrs. Robson went up stairs to the Count's chamber, with
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 121 
 
 Other sentiments towards her sapient doctor than those with 
 which she came down. Slie well recollected the substance 
 of his discourse ; and she gathered from it, that however 
 clever he might be in his profession, he was a hard-hearted 
 man, who would rather see a fellow creature perish, than 
 administer relief to him without a reward. 
 
 But here Mrs. Robson was mistaken. She did him jus- 
 tice in esteeming his medical abilities, which were great : 
 he had made medicine the study of his life ; and, not allow- 
 ing any other occupation to disturb his attention, he became 
 master of that science, but remained ignorant of every other 
 with which it had no connection. lie was the father of a 
 family ; and, in the usual acceptation of the term, a very 
 good sort of a man ; he preferred his country to every 
 other, because it was his country : he loved his wife and 
 his children : he was kind to the poor, to whom he gave 
 his advice gratis, and letters to the Dispensary for drugs ; 
 and when he had any broken victuals to spare, he desired 
 that it might be divided amongst them ; but he seldom 
 caught his maid obeying this part of his commands, with- 
 out reprimanding her for her extravagance in giving away 
 what ought to be eaten in the kitchen: — " in these times 
 it was a shame to waste a crumb ; and the careless hussy 
 would come to want, for thinking so lightly of other peo- 
 ple's property. " 
 
 Thus, like many in the world, he was a loyal citizen by 
 habit, an affectionate father from nature, and a man of cha- 
 rity, because he now and then felt pity, and now and then 
 heard it preached from the pulpit. He was exhorted to be 
 pious, and to pour wine and oil into the wounds of his 
 neighbour ; but it never once struck him, that piety ex- 
 tended farther than going to church, mumbling his prayers, 
 and forgetting the sermon, through most of which he ge- 
 nerally slept : and his commentaries on the Good Samari- 
 tan were not more extensive ; for it was so difficult to make 
 him comprehend who was his neighbour, that the object of 
 the argument might have been sick, dead, and buried before 
 he could be persuaded that he had any claims on his care. 
 Indeed, his "charity began at home ;" and it was so fond 
 of its residence, that it " stopped there." To have been
 
 122 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 born on the other side of the British Channel spread an^ 
 ocean between the poor foreigner and Mr. Vincent's purse, 
 which the swiftest wings of charity could never cross. 
 " He saw no reason," he said, " for feeding the natural 
 enemies of our country. Would any man be mad enough 
 to take the meat from his children's mouths, and throw it 
 to a swarm of wolves just landed on the coast .'' " These 
 wolves were his favourite metaphors, when he spoke of the 
 unhappy French, or of any other pennyless foreigners that 
 came in his way. 
 
 After this explanation, it will appear paradoxical to 
 mention an inconsistency in the mind of Mr. Vincent, 
 which never permitted him to discover the above Cainish 
 mark of outlawry upon the wealthy stranger of what- 
 ever country. In fact, it was with him as with many : 
 riches were a splendid and thick robe that concealed aU 
 blemishes ; take it away, and probably the poor stripped 
 wretch would be treated worse than a criminal. 
 
 That his new patient possessed some property, was suf- 
 ficient to ensure the respect and medical skill of Mr. Vin- 
 cent ; and when he entered his own house, he told his wife 
 he had found " a very good job at Mrs. Robson's, in the 
 illness of her lodger." 
 
 When the Count Sobieski quitted the Hummums on the 
 evening in which he bi-ought away his baggage, he was so 
 disconcerted by the impertinence of the man who accosted 
 him there, that he determined not to expose himself to a 
 similar insult by retaining a title which might subject him 
 to the curiosity of the insolent and insensible ; and, thei-e- 
 fore, when Mrs. Robson asked him how she should address 
 him, as he was averse to assume a feigned name, he merely 
 said Mr. Constantine. 
 
 Under that unobtrusive character, he hoped in time to 
 accommodate his feelings to the change of fortune which 
 Providence had allotted to him. He must forget his no- 
 bility, his pride, and his sensibility ; he must earn his sub- 
 sistence. But by what means ? He was ignorant of busi- 
 ness ; and he knew not how to turn his accomplishments to 
 account. Such were his meditations, until illness and deli- 
 rium deprived him of them and of reason together.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 12^ 
 
 At the expiration of a week, in which Mr. Vincent at- 
 tended his patient very regularly, Sobieski was able to 
 remove into the front room ; but uneasiness about the debts 
 he had so unintentionally incurred retarded his recovery ; 
 and made his hours pass away in cheerless meditation on 
 the means of repaying the good widow, and of satisfying 
 the avidity of the apothecary. Pecuniary obligation was a 
 load to which he was unaccustomed ; and once or twice the 
 wish almost escaped his heart, that he had died. 
 
 ^Vhenever he was left to think, such were his reflections. 
 Mr. Robson discovered that he a])peared more feverish and 
 had worse nights after being much alone during the day, 
 and therefore contrived, though she was obliged to be in 
 her little shop, to leave either Nanny to attend his wants, 
 or little AV^illiam to anmse him. 
 
 This child, by its uncommon quickness, and artless man- 
 ner, gained upon the Count, who was ever alive to help- 
 lessness and innocence. Children and animals had always 
 found a friend and protector in him. From the " majestic 
 war-horse, with his neck clothed in thunder," to " the poor 
 beetle that we tread upon;" every creature of creation, met 
 an advocate of mercy in his breast : and as human nature 
 is prone to love what it has been kind to, Thaddeus never 
 saw either children, dogs, or even that poor slandered and 
 abused animal, the cat, without showing them some spon- 
 taneous act of attention. 
 
 Whatever of his affection he could spare from memory, 
 the Count lavished upon the little AVilliam. He hardly 
 ever left his side, where he sat on a stool prattling about 
 any thing that came into his head ; or, seated on his knee, 
 followed with his eyes and playful fingers the hand of 
 Thaddeus, as he sketched a horse or a soldier for his pretty 
 companion.
 
 124 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 By these means Thaddeus slowly acquired sufficient 
 strength to allow him to quit his dressing-gown^ and pre- 
 pare for a walk. 
 
 A hard frost succeeded to the chilling damps of No- 
 vember ; and looking out of the window^ he longed, almost 
 eagerly, again to inhale the fresh air. After some tender 
 altercations with Mr. Robson, who feared to trust him 
 even down stairs, he at length conquered ; and taking the 
 little AFilliam in his hand, folded his pelisse round him ; 
 and promising to venture no farther than the King's Mews, 
 was suffered to go out. 
 
 As he expected, he found the keen breeze act like a 
 charm on his debilitated frame ; and with braced nerves 
 and exhilarated sjiirits he walked twice up and down the 
 place, whilst his companion played before him, throwing 
 stones and running to pick them up. At this moment one 
 of the King's carriages, pursued by a concourse of people, 
 suddenly drove in at the Charing-Cross gate. The fright- 
 ened child screamed and fell. Thaddeus darted forward, 
 and seizing the heads of the horses, which were within a 
 yard of the boy, stopped them ; meanwhile, the mob ga- 
 thering about, one of them raised William, who continued 
 his cries. The Count now let go the reins, and for a few 
 minutes tried to pacify his little charge ; but finding that 
 his alarm and shrieks were not to be quelled, and that his 
 own figure, from its singularity of dress (his high cap 
 and feathers adding to his height), drew on him the whole 
 attention of the people, he took the trembling child in his 
 arms ; and walking through the Mews, was followed by 
 some of the by-standcrs to the very door of Mrs. Robson's 
 shop. 
 
 Seeing the people, and her grandson sobbing on the 
 breast of her guest, she ran out, and hastily asked what
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 125 
 
 had happened. Thaddeus simply answered, the child had 
 been iVightened. But when they entered the house, and 
 he had tlirown himself exhausted on a scat, AV illiam, as 
 he stood by his knee, told his grandmother that if Mr. 
 Constantine had not stopped the horses, he must have 
 been run over. The Count was now obliged to relate the 
 whole story ; which ended Avith the blessings of the poor 
 woman, for his goodness in risking his own life for the 
 preservation of her darling child. 
 
 Thaddeus in vain assured her the action deserved no 
 thanks. 
 
 " Well," cried she, " it is like yourself, Mr. Constan- 
 tine : you think all your good deeds nothing ; and yet any 
 httle odd thing that I can do out of pure love to serve you, 
 you cry up to the skies. However, we won't fall out ; I 
 Bay, Heaven bless you, and that is enough ! — Has your 
 walk refreshed you .'' But I need not ask ; you haAc got 
 a fine colour." 
 
 " Yes," returned he, rising and taking off his cap and 
 cloak, " it has put me in a glow, and made me quite 
 another creature." As he finished speaking, he dropped 
 the things from the hand that held them, and staggered 
 back a few paces against the wall. 
 
 " Good Lord ! what is the matter ? " cried Mrs. Rob- 
 eon, looking in his face, which was now as pale as death : 
 " what is the matter ? " 
 
 " Nothing, nothing," returned he, recovering himself, 
 and gathering up the cloak he had let fall, " don't mind 
 me, Mrs. Robson ; nothing : " and he was leaving the 
 kitchen, but she followed him, terrified at his look and 
 manner. 
 
 " Pray, Mr. Constantine !" 
 
 " Nay, my dear madam," said he, leading her back, 
 " I am not well ; I believe my walk has overcome me. 
 Let me be a few minutes alone, till I have recovered myself. 
 It will oblige me." 
 
 '•' A\^ell, sir, as you please ! " and then, laying her 
 withered hand fearfully upon his arm, " forgive me, dear 
 sir," said she, " if my attentions are troublesome. In- 
 deed, I fear, that sometimes great love appears like great
 
 126 THADDEU3 OP WARSAW. 
 
 impertinence ; I would always be serving you, and there- 
 fore I often forget the wide difference between Your 
 Honour's station and mine." 
 
 The Count could only press her hand gratefully, and 
 ■with an emotion that made him hurry up stairs. When 
 in his own room, he shut the door, and cast a wild and 
 inquisitive gaze around the apartment ; then throwing 
 himself into a chair, he struck his head with his hand, 
 and exclaimed, " It is gone ! What will become of me ? 
 Of this poor woman, whose substance I have consumed .'' " 
 
 It was true, the watch, by the sale of which he had 
 calculated to defray the charges of his illness, was indeed 
 lost. A villain, in the crowd, having perceived the spark- 
 ling of the chain, had taken it unobserved from his side ; 
 and he knew nothing of his loss, until feeling for his watch 
 to see the hour, he discovered his misfortune. 
 
 The shock went like a stroke of electricity through his 
 frame ; but it was not until the last glimmering of hope 
 was extinguished, on examining his room where he thought 
 he might have left it, that he saw the full horror of his 
 situation. 
 
 He sat for some minutes, absorbed, and almost afraid to 
 think. It was not his own, but the necessities of the poor 
 woman, who had, perhaps, incurred debts on herself to 
 afford him comforts, which bore so hard upon him. At 
 last, rising from his seat, he exclaimed, 
 
 " I must determine on something. Since this is gone, 
 I must seek what else I have to part with, for I cannot 
 long bear my present feelings." 
 
 He opened the drawer which contained his few valuables. 
 
 With a trembling hand he took them out one by one. 
 There were several trinkets which had been given to him by 
 his mother ; and a pair of inlaid pistols, which his grand- 
 father put into his belt on the morning of the dreadful tenth 
 of October ; his miniature lay beneath them : the mild eyes 
 of the Palatine seemed beaming with affection upon his 
 grandson : Thaddeus snatched it up, kissed it fervently, 
 and then laid it back into the drawer, whilst he hid his face 
 with his hands. 
 
 When he recovered himself, he replaced the pistols, be-
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 127 
 
 Hevin<T that it would he sacrilege to part with tliem. With- 
 out allowing himself time to think^ he put a gold pencil-case 
 and a pair of brilliant sleeve-buttons into his waistcoat- 
 pocket. 
 
 He descended the stairs witli a soft step, and passing the 
 kitchen-door unperceived by his landlady, crossed through 
 a little court ; and then anxiously looking from right to left, 
 to find any place in whicli he might probably dispose of the 
 trinkets, he took his way up Castle Street, and along Lei- 
 cester Square. 
 
 When he turned up the first street to his right, he was 
 impeded by two persons who stood in his path, the one 
 selling, the other buying a hat. The thought immediately 
 struck Thaddeus of asking one of these men (who appeared 
 to be a Jew and a vender of clothes) to purchase his pelisse. 
 By parting with a thing to which he annexed no more value 
 than the warmth it afforded him, he should possibly spare 
 himself the pain, for this time at least, of sacrificing those 
 gifts of his mother which had been bestowed upon him in 
 happier days, and hallowed by her caresses. 
 
 He did not permit himself to hesitate, but desired the 
 Jew to follow him into a neighbouring court. The man 
 obeyed ; and having no ideas independent of his trade, asked 
 the Count what he wanted to buy ? 
 
 " Nothing : I want to sell this pelisse," returned he, 
 opening it. The Jew, without any ceremony, inspected the 
 covering and the fur. 
 
 " Ay, I see it is black cloth, lined with sable ; but who 
 would buy it of me ? It is embroidered, and nobody wears 
 such things here." 
 
 " Then 1 am answered," replied Thaddeus. 
 
 " Stop, sir," cried the Jew, pursuing him, " what will 
 you take for it?" 
 
 '' A\'hat would you give me ? " 
 
 " Let me see. It is very long and wide. At the utmost 
 I cannot offer you more than five guineas." 
 
 A few months ago, it had cost the Count a hundred ; but 
 glad to get any money, however small, he readily closed 
 with the man's price ; and, taking off the cloak, gave it to 
 him, and put the guineas into his pocket.
 
 128 TKADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 He had not walked much further, before the piercing cold 
 of the evening, and a shower of snow, which began to fall, 
 made him feel the effects of his loss ; however that did not 
 annoy him ; he had been too heavily assailed by the piti- 
 less rigours cf misfortune, to regard the pelting of the ele- 
 ments. ^Vhilst the wind blew in his face, and the sleet 
 falling on his dress, lodged in its embroidered lappels, he 
 went forward, calculating whether it were likely that this 
 money, with the few shillings he yet possessed, would be 
 sufficient to discharge what he owed. Unused as he had 
 been to all kinds of expenditure which required attention, 
 he supposed from what he had already seen of a commerce 
 with the world, that the sum he had received from the Jew 
 was not above half what he wanted ; and with a beating heart 
 he walked towards one of those shops, which Mrs. llobson 
 had described, when speaking of the irregularities of her son, 
 who had nearly reduced her to beggary. 
 
 The candles were lit. And, as he hovered about the door, 
 he distinctly saw the master through the glass, assorting 
 some parcels on the counter. He was a gentleman-like man, 
 and the Count's feelings took quite a different turn from 
 those with which he had accosted the Jew, who, being a 
 low sordid wretch, looked upon the people with whom he 
 trafficked as pieces of wood. Thaddeus felt little repugnance 
 at bargaining with him : but the sight of a respectable per- 
 son, before whom he was to present himself as a man in 
 poverty, as one who in a manner appealed to charity, all at 
 once overcame the resolution of Sobieski, and he debated 
 whether or not he should return. Mrs. Robson, and her 
 probable distresses, rose before him ; and, fearful of trusting 
 his pride any farther, he pulled his cap over his face, and 
 entered the shop. 
 
 The man bowed very civillyon his entrance, and requested 
 to be honoured with his commands. Thaddeus felt his face 
 glow ; but indignant at his own weakness, he laid the gold 
 case on the counter, and said, in a voice which, notwith- 
 standing his emotion, he constrained to be without appear- 
 ance of confusion, " I want to part with this." 
 
 Astonished at the dignity of his air, and the nobility of 
 his dress, for the star did not escape the shopkeeper's eye.
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 129 
 
 he looked at him for a moment, holdiiip; the case in liis hand. 
 Hurt by the steadiness of his gaze, the Count rather haughtily 
 repeated what he had said. Tlie man hesitated no longer. 
 He had been accustomed to similar requests from tiie emi- 
 grant French nohle.ise : but there was a loftiness, and an air 
 of authority in the countenance and mien of this person, 
 which surprised and awed him ; and with a respect which 
 even the application could not counteract, he opened the 
 case, and enquired of Thaddeus, what was the price he af- 
 fixed to it. 
 
 " I leave that to you," replied he. 
 
 " The gold is solid," returned the man, " but it is very 
 thin ; I cannot give more than three guineas. Though 
 the workmanship is fine, it is not in the fashion of Eng- 
 land, and will be of no benefit to me till it is melted. 
 
 " You may have it," said Thaddeus, hartlly able to 
 articulate, as he saw the gift of his mother pass into a 
 stranger's hand. 
 
 The man directly paid him down the money, and the 
 Count with a bursting heart darted out of the shop. 
 
 Mrs. Robson was shutting up the windows of her little 
 parlour, when he hastily passed her, and glided up the 
 stairs. Hardly believing her senses, she hastened after 
 him, and just got into the room as he thank off a glass of 
 water. 
 
 '' Good Lord, sir," cried she, " where has Your Ho- 
 nour been ? " I thought you were all the while in the 
 house, and I would not come near, though I was very un- 
 easy ; and there has been poor ^Yilliam crying himself 
 bUnd, because you desired to be left alone." 
 
 Thaddeus was unprepared to make an answer. He was 
 in hopes to have gotten in as he had stolen out, untUsco- 
 vered ; for he determined not to agitate her good mind, by 
 the history of his loss. He would not allow her to know 
 any thing of his embarrassments, from a sentiment of jus- 
 tice, as well as from that pride, which all his sufl^erings 
 and philosophy could not wholly subdue. 
 
 " 1 liave been taking a walk, Mrs. Robson." 
 
 " Dear heart ! I thought when you staggered hack, and 
 
 K
 
 130 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 looked so ill, after you brought in Williamj you had over- 
 walked yourself!" 
 
 " No ; I fancy my fears had a little discomposed me ; 
 and I hoped that more air might do me good ; I tried it, 
 and it has : but I am grieved for having alarmed you." 
 
 This ambiguous speech satisfied his kind landlady ; and, 
 fatigued by a bodily exertion, which, in the present feeble 
 state of his frame, nothing less than the perturbation of his 
 mind could have carried him through, Thaddeus went di- 
 rectly to bed ; where tired nature soon found temporary re- 
 pose in a profound sleep. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Next morning, Sobieski found himself rather better than 
 worse by the exertions of the preceding day. When Nanny 
 appeared as usual with his breakfast, and little William, 
 (who always sat on his knee, and shared his bread and 
 butter,) he desired her to request her grandmother to send 
 to Mr. Vincent with his compliments, and to tell him, he 
 was so well at present as to decline any farther medical 
 aid, and therefore wished to have his bill. 
 
 ]\Irs. Robson, who could not forget the behaviour of the 
 apothecary, undertook to deliver the message herself, happy 
 in the triumphs she should enjoy over the littleness of Mr. 
 Vincent's suspicions. 
 
 After the lapse of a quarter of an hour, she re-appeared 
 in the Count's rooms with the apothecary's assistant ; who, 
 with many thanks, received the sum total of his account, 
 which amounted to three guineas for ten days' attendance. 
 
 The man having withdrawn, Thadtleus told Mrs. Robson 
 he should next defray the smallest part of the vast debt 
 he must ever owe to her parental care. 
 
 " O, bless Your Honour, it goes to my heart to take a 
 farthing of you I but these poor children," cried she, lay- 
 ing a hand on each, and her eyes glistening, " they look 
 up to me as their all here ; and my quarter-day was yes-
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 131 
 
 terday, else, dear sir, I should scoin to be like Doctor 
 Vincent, and take your money the moment you offer it." 
 
 " My good madam," returned Sobieski, giving her a 
 chair, " I am sensible of your kindness : but it is your just 
 due ; and the payment of it can never lessen my gratitude 
 for the friendship which you have shown to me, a poor 
 stranger." 
 
 " Then, there, sir," said she, looking almost as ashamed 
 as if she were robbing him, when she laid it on the table ; 
 " there is my bill. I have regularly set down every thing. 
 Nanny will bring it to me." And quite disconcerted, the 
 good woman hurried out of the room. 
 
 Thaddeus looked after her with admiration and rever- 
 ence. 
 
 " There goes," thought he, " in that lowly and feeble 
 frame, as generous and noble a spirit as ever animated the 
 breast of a princess! — Here, Nanny," said he, glancing 
 his eye over the paper, " there is the gold, with my thanks ; 
 and tell your grandmother I am astonished at her economy." 
 This affair over, the Count was relieved of a grievous 
 load ; and turning the remaining money in his hand, how 
 he might replenish the little stock before it were expended, 
 next occupied his attention. Notwithstanding the pawn- 
 broker's civil treatment, he recoiled at again presenting 
 himself at his shop. Besides, should he dispose of all 
 that he possessed, it would not be of sufficient value to 
 subsist him for a month. He must think of some source 
 within himself that was not likely to be so soon exhausted. 
 To be reduced a second time to the misery which he hac' 
 endured yesterday from suspense and wretchedness, ap- 
 peared too dreadful to be hazarded, and he ran over in 
 his memory the different merits of his several accomplish- 
 ments. 
 
 He could not make any use of his musical talents ; for at 
 public exhibitions of himself his soul revolted ; and as to 
 his literary acquirements, his youth, and being a foreigner, 
 precluded all hopes on that head. At length he found that 
 his sole dependence must rest on his talents for painting. 
 Of this art he had always been remarkably fond ; and lii« 
 taste easily perceived that there were many drawings ex- 
 K 2
 
 132 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 hibited for sale much inferior to those which he had 
 executed for mere amusement. 
 
 He decided at once ; and purchasing, by the means of 
 Nanny, pencils and Indian ink, he set to work. 
 
 When he had finished half-a-dozen drawings, and was 
 considering how he might find the street in which he had 
 seen the print-shops, the recollection occurred to him of the 
 impression his appearance had made on the pawnbroker. 
 He perceived the wide difference between his apparel and 
 the fashion of England ; and seeing with what security 
 from impertinence he might walk about, could he so far cast 
 off the relics of his former rank as to change his dress, he 
 got up with an intention to go out and purchase a surtout 
 coat and hat, for that purpose ; but catching an accidental 
 view of his figure and the star of St. Stanislaus, as he 
 passed the glass to the door, he no longer wondered at the 
 curiosity which such an appendage, united with poverty, 
 had attracted. Rather than again subject himself to a 
 similar situation, he summoned his young messenger; and, 
 -by her assistance, furnished himself with an English hat 
 and coat, whilst, with his penknife, he cut away the em- 
 broidery of. the order, from the cloth to which it was af- 
 fixed. 
 
 Thus accoutred, with his hat flapped over his face, and 
 his great coat wrapped round him, he put his drawings into 
 his bosom, and about eight o'clock walked out on his dis- 
 agreeable errand. After some wearying search, he at last 
 found Great Newport Street, the place he wanted ; but as 
 he advanced, his hopes died away, and his fears and re- 
 luctance awakened. 
 
 He stopped at the door of the nearest print-shop. All 
 that he had suffered at the pawnbroker's re-assailed him 
 with redoubled violence. AV^hat he presented there possessed 
 a fixed value, and was at once to be taken or refused ; but 
 now he was going to offer things of mere taste, and he 
 might meet not only with a denial, but affronting remarks. 
 
 He walked to tlie threshold of the door, then as hastily 
 •withdrew, and burricd two or three paces down the street. 
 
 '' Weak, contemptible that I am !" said he to himself, as 
 he again turned round; " where is all my reason and recti-
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAVT. 133 
 
 tude of principle, that I would rather endure the misery of 
 dependence and self-reproach, than dare the attempt to seek 
 support from the fruits of my own industry ? " 
 
 He quickened his step, and started into the shop, almost 
 fearful of his former irresolution. He threw his drawings 
 instantly upon the counter. 
 
 " Sir, you purchase drawings. I have these to sell. Will 
 they suit you ? " 
 
 The man took them up without deigning to look at the 
 person who accosted him, and turning them over in liis 
 hand, " One, two, three, hum ! there is half-a-dozen. 
 What do you expect for them ? " 
 
 " I am not acquainted with the prices of these things." 
 The printseller, hearing this, thought, by managing well, 
 to get them for what he liked, and throwing them over with 
 an air of contempt, resumed — 
 
 " And pray, where may the views be taken ? " 
 " They are recollections of scenes in Germany." 
 " Ah," replied the man, " mere drugs ! I wish, honest 
 friend, you could have brought subjects not quite so thread- 
 bare, and a little better executed ; they are but poor things ! 
 But every dauber, now-a-days, sets up for a fine artist ; 
 and thinks ire are to pen/ him for idleness and conceit." 
 
 Insulted by this speech, and, above all, by the manner of 
 the printseller, Thaddeus was snatching up the drawings to 
 leave the shop without a word, when the man observing his 
 design, and afraid to lose them, laid his hand on the heap, 
 exclaiming — 
 
 " Let me tell you, young man, it does not become a 
 person in your situation to be so huffy to their employers. 
 I will give you a guinea for the six, and you may think 
 yourself well paid." 
 
 Without further hesitation, whilst the Count was striving 
 to subdue the choler which urged him to knock him down, 
 the man laid the gold on the counter, and was slipping the 
 drawings into a drawer ; but Thaddeus snatching them out 
 again, suddenly rolled them up, and walked out of the shop 
 as he said — 
 
 " Not all the money, of all your tribe, would tempt an 
 K 3
 
 134 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 honest man to pollute himself by exchanging a second word 
 ■with one so contemptible." 
 
 Irritated at this unfeeling treatment, he returned home 
 too much provoked to think of the consequences wliich 
 might follow a similar disappointment. 
 
 Having become used to the fluctuations of his looks and 
 behaviour, the widow ceased altogether to tease him with 
 enquiries she saw he was loth to answer. She now allowed 
 him to walk in and out without a remark ; and silently 
 contemplated his pale and melancholy countenance, when, 
 after a ramble of the greatest part of the day, he returned 
 home exhausted and dispirited. 
 
 William was always the first to welcome his friend at the 
 threshold, by running to him, taking hold of his coat, and 
 asking to go with him up stairs. The Count usually grati- 
 fied him, and brightened many dull hours Avith his in- 
 nocent caresses. 
 
 This child was literally his only earthly comfort ; for he 
 saw that in him he could still excite those emotions of 
 happiness which had once afforded him his sweetest joy. 
 William ever greeted him with smiles ; and when he en- 
 tered the kitchen, sprang to his bosom, as if that were the 
 seat of peace, as it was of virtue. But, alas ! fate seemed 
 averse to lend any thing long to the unhappy Thaddeus, 
 which might render his desolate state more tolerable. 
 
 Just risen from the bed of sickness, he required the 
 hand of some tender nurse to restore his wasted vigour, in- 
 stead of being reduced to the hard vigils of poverty and 
 want. His recent disappointment, added to a cold which 
 he caught, increased his fever and debility ; yet he ad- 
 hered to the determination, not to appropriate to his own 
 subsistence the few valuables he had assigned as a deposit 
 for the charges of his rent. During a fortnight he never 
 tasted any thing better than bread and water; but this, 
 hermit's fare was accompanied by the thought, that if it 
 ended in death, his sufferings would then be over ; and the 
 widow amply remunerated by what little of his property 
 remained. 
 
 'i In this state of body and mind he received a most pain- 
 ful shock, when one evening returning from a walk of many
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 135 
 
 hours, in the place of his httle favourite, he met Mrs. 
 Robson in tears at the door. She told him William had 
 been sickening all the day, and was now so delirious, that 
 neither she nor his sister could hold him quiet. 
 
 Thaddeus went to the side of the child's bed, where he 
 lay gasping on the pillow, held down by the crying Nanny. 
 The Count touched his cheek. 
 
 " Poor child," exclaimed he, " he is in a high fever. 
 Have you sent for Mr. Vincent ? " 
 
 " O, no ; I had not the heart to leave him." 
 
 '' Then I will go directly," returned Thaddeus ; " there 
 is not a moment to be lost." 
 
 The poor woman thanked him. Hastening through the 
 streets with an eagerness which nearly overset several of the 
 foot passengers, he arrived at Lincoln's Inn Fields ; and in 
 less than five minutes after he had quitted Mrs. Robson's 
 door, he returned with the apothecary. 
 
 On Mr. Vincent's examining the pulse and countenance 
 of his little patient, he declared the symptoms to be the 
 small-pox, which some casualty had repelled. 
 
 In a paroxysm of distress, Mrs. Robson recollected that 
 a girl had been brought into her shop three days ago, just 
 recovered from that frightful malady. 
 
 y Thaddeus tried to subdue the fears of the grandmother; 
 and at last succeeded in persuading her to go to bed, whilst 
 he and Nanny would watch by the pillow of the invalid. 
 
 Towards morning the disorder broke out in the child's 
 face, and he recovered his recollection. The moment he 
 fixed his eyes on the Count, who was leaning over him, he 
 stretched out his little arms, and begged to lie on his breast. 
 Thaddeus refused him gently, fearing that by any change 
 of position he might catch cold, and so again retard what 
 had now so fortunately appeared ; but the poor child 
 thought the denial unkind, and began to weep so violently, 
 that his anxious friend believed it better to gratify him than 
 hazard the irritation of his fever by agitation and crying. 
 
 Thaddeus took him out of bed, and, rolling him in one 
 of the blankets, laid him in his bosom ; and drawing his 
 dressing gown to shield his httle face from the fire, held 
 him in that situation asleep for nearly two hours. 
 K 4
 
 136 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 Wlien IMrs. Robson came down stairs at six o'clock in 
 the morning, she kissed the hand of the Count as he sus- 
 tained her grandson in his arms ; and, almost speechless 
 with gratitude to him, and solicitude for the child, waited 
 the arrival of the apothecary. 
 
 On his second visit, he said a few words to her of com- 
 fort ; but whispered to the Count, as he was feeUng Wil- 
 liam's pulse, that nothing short of the strictest cave could 
 save the boy, the infection he had received having been of 
 the most malignant kind. 
 
 These words fell like an unrepealable sentence on the 
 heart of Thaddeus. Looking on the discoloured features 
 of the patient infant, he fancied that he already beheld its 
 clay-cold face, and its little limbs stretched in death. The 
 idea was bitterness to him ; and pressing the boy to his 
 breast, he resolved that no attention should be wanting on 
 his part, to preserve him from the grave. And he kept 
 his promise. 
 
 From that hour until the day in which the poor babe 
 expired in his arms, he never laid him out of them for ten 
 minutes together : and when he did breathe his last sigh, 
 and raised up his little eyes, Thaddeus met their dying 
 glance with a pang, which he thought his soul had long 
 lost the power to feel. His heart seemed to stop ; and 
 covering the motionless face of the dead child with his 
 hand, he made a sign to Nanny to leave the room. 
 
 The girl, who from respect had been accustomed to obey 
 his slightest nod, went to her grandmother in the shop. 
 
 The instant the girl quitted the room, with mingled awe 
 and grief the Count lifted the little corpse from his knee ; 
 and without allowing himself to cast another glance on the 
 face of the poor infant now released from suffering, he put 
 it on the bed, and throwing the sheet over it, sunk into a 
 chair and burst into tears. 
 
 The entrance of Mrs. Robson in some measure restored 
 him ; for the moment she perceived her guest with his 
 handkerchief over his eyes, she judged what had happened, 
 and with a piercing scream flew forward to the bed, where, 
 pulling down the covering, she uttered another shriek, and 
 must have fallen on the floor had not Thaddeus and little
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 137 
 
 Nanny, who ran in at her cries, caught her in their arms 
 and bore her to a chair. 
 
 Her soul was too much agitated to allow her to continue 
 long in a state of insensibility ; and when she recovered, 
 she would again have approached the deceased child, but 
 the Count withheld her, and, trying by every means in his 
 power to soothe her, so far succeeded as to melt her agonies 
 into tears. 
 
 Whilst she concealed her venerable head in the bosom 
 of her grand-daughter, he once more lifted the remains of 
 the little "William ; and thinking it best, for the tranquillity 
 of the unhappy grandmother, to take him out of her sight, 
 carried him up stairs and laid him on his own bed. 
 
 By the time he returned to the humble parlour, one of 
 the female neighbours having heard an unusual outcry, and 
 suspecting the cause, kindly stepped in to offer her consol- 
 ation and services. Mrs. llobson could only reply by sobs, 
 which were answered by the loud weeping of poor Nanny, 
 who lay with her head against the table. 
 
 "^Vhen the Count came down he thanked the good woman 
 for her benevolent intentions, and took her up stairs into 
 his apartments. Pointing to the open door of the bed-room, 
 " There, iVIadam," said he, " you will find the remains of 
 my dear little friend. I beg you will direct every thing 
 for his interment, as you think will give satisfaction to 
 JVIrs. llobson. I would spare that excellent Avoman every 
 pang in my power." 
 
 All was done according to his desire ; and Mrs. Watts, 
 the charitable neighbour, excited by a good disposition and 
 reverence for " the extraordinary young gentleman who 
 lodged with her friend," performed her task with kindness 
 and activity. 
 
 " Oh ! Sir," cried Mrs. Robson, weeping afresh as she 
 entered the Count's room, " Oh ! Sir, how shall I ever re- 
 pay all your goodness ? and Mrs. A\"atts ? She has acted 
 like a sister to me. But, indeed, indeed, I am yet the most 
 miserable woman that lives. I have lost my dearest child, 
 and must strip his poor sister and myself to bury him. 
 That cruel Ur. Vincent, though he might have imagined 
 my distress, sent his account late last night, saying he
 
 138 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 wanted to make up a large bill, and he wished I would let 
 him have all or part of the payment. Heaven knows, I 
 have not a farthing in the house ; but I will send poor 
 little Nanny to pawn my silver spoons ; for, alas ! I have 
 no other means of satisfying the cruel man." 
 
 " Rapacious wretch ! " cried Thaddeus, rising indignantly 
 from his chair, and for a moment forgetting how incapable 
 he was to afford reUef : " you shall not be indebted one 
 instant to his mercy. I will pay him." 
 
 The words had passed his lips : he could not retract, 
 though conviction immediately followed, that he had not the 
 means ; and he would not have retracted even should he be 
 necessitated to part with every thing he most valued. 
 
 Mrs. Robson was overwhelmed by this generous promise, 
 which indeed saved her from ruin. Had her little plate 
 been pledged, it could not have covered one half of Mr. 
 Vincent's demand, who, to do him justice, ditl not mean to 
 cause any distress. But having been so readily paid by 
 Thaddeus for his own illness, and observing his great care 
 and affection for the deceased child, he did not doubt, that 
 rather than allow Mrs. Robson a minute's uneasiness, her 
 lodger would defray his bill. So far he calculated right ; 
 but he had not sufficient sagacity to foresee, that in getting 
 his money this way, he should lose the future business of 
 Mrs. Robson and her friend. 
 
 The child was to be buried on the morrow ; the expenses 
 of which event, Thaddeus saw he must discharge also; — 
 and he had engaged to pay Mr. Vincent that night. He had 
 not a shilling in his purse. Over and over, he contemplated 
 the imiiracticability of answering these debts ; yet he coidd 
 not for an instant repent of what he had undertaken : he 
 thouglit he was amply recompensed for bearing so heavy a 
 load, in knowing that he had taken it off the worn-down 
 heart of another.
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 139 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Since the Count's unmannerly treatment at the printseller's, 
 he had not sufficiently conquered his pride, to attempt an 
 apphcation to another. Therefore, he had no prospect of 
 collecting the money he had pleged himself to Mrs. Ilobson 
 to pay, but by selling some more of his valuables to the 
 pawnbroker. 
 
 For this purpose he took his sabre, his pistols, and the 
 fated brilliants he had brought back on a similar errand. — 
 He drew them from their deposit with less reluctance than 
 before. They were now going to be devoted to gratitude 
 and benevolence ; an act which he knew his parents, were 
 they alive, would warmly approve ; and here he allowed 
 the end to sanctify the means. 
 
 About half after six in the evening, he prepared himself 
 for his task. Whether it be congenial with melancholy to 
 seek the gloom, or whether the Count found himself less 
 observed under the shades of night, is not evident ; but 
 since his exile, he preferred the dusk to any other part of 
 the day. 
 
 Before he went out, he asked Mrs. Robson for Mr. Vin- 
 cent's bill. Sinking with obligation and shame, she put it 
 into his hand, and he left the house. AVhen he approached 
 a lighted lamp, he opened the paper to see the amount ; 
 and finding it was almost two pounds, he hastened forwards 
 to the pawnbroker's. 
 
 The man was in the shop alone. Thaddeus thought 
 himself fortunate ; and, after subduing a few qualms, en- 
 tered the door. The moment he laid his sword and pistols 
 on the counter, and declared his wish, the man, even 
 through the disguise of a large coat and slouched hat, re- 
 collected him. — This honest money-lender carried senti- 
 ments in his breast above his occupation. He did not 
 commiserate all who presented themselves before him, be- 
 cause many exhibited, too evidently, the excesses which 
 brought them to his shop. — But tliere was something ia
 
 140 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 the figure and manner of the Count Sobieski, which struck 
 him at first sight ; and by continuing to possess his thoughts, 
 excited such an interest in his mind^ as to produce pleasure 
 when he tUscerned the noble foreigner in the person before 
 him. 
 
 Mr. Burket (for so this money-lender was called) asked 
 him what he demanded for the arms. 
 
 " Perhaps more than you would give. But I have 
 something else here^" laying down the diamonds ; " 1 want 
 eight guineas." 
 
 Mr. Burket looked at them, and then at their owner, 
 hesitated, and then spoke. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir ; I hope I shall not offend you, 
 but these things appear to have a value independent of 
 their price — they are inlaid with crests and ciphers." 
 
 The blood flushed over the cheeks of the Count. He 
 had forgotten this circumstance ; — unable to answer, he 
 waited to hear what the man would say further. 
 
 " I repeat, sir, I mean not to offend ; but you appear a 
 stranger to these transactions. I only wish to suggest, 
 that, in case you should ever like to repossess these things, 
 had you not better pledge them } " 
 
 " How ? " asked Thaddeus, irresolutely, and not know- 
 ing what to think of the man's manner. 
 
 At that instant some other people came into the shop ; 
 and Mr. Burket, gathering up the diamonds and the arms 
 in his hands, said, " If you do not object, sir, we will 
 settle this business in my back parlour } " 
 
 The delicacy of this behaviour penetrated the mind of 
 Thaddeus ; and, Avithout demurring, he followed him into 
 a room. As Mr. Burket offered his guest a chair, the 
 Count took off, his hat, and laid it on the table. Burket 
 contemplated the saddened dignity of his countenance with 
 renewed interest and repect ; and, entreating him to be 
 seated, resumed the conversation. 
 
 " I see, sir, you do not understand the meaning of 
 pledging, or pawning, for it is one and the same thing ; 
 but I will explain it in two words. If you leave these 
 things with me, I will give you a paper in acknowledgment, 
 and lend on them the guineas you request ; which, when
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 141 
 
 you return to me with a stated interest, you shall have your 
 deposit in exchange." 
 
 Sobieski received this offer with pleasure and thanks. 
 He had entertained no idea of any thing more being meant 
 by the trade of a pawnbroker, than a man who bought what 
 others wished to sell. 
 
 " Then, sir, continued Burket, opening an escrutoire, "I 
 will give you the money, and write the paper I spoke of." 
 
 As he put his hand to a drawer, he heard voices in an 
 adjoining passage ; and instantly shutting the desk, caught 
 up the things on the table, threw them behind a curtain, 
 and hastily taking the Count by the hand, " j\Iy dear sir," 
 cried he, " do oblige me, and step into that closet ! you 
 will find a chair. A person is coming, whom I will de- 
 spatch in a few seconds." 
 
 Thaddeus, rather surprised at such hurry, did as he was 
 desired ; and the door was closed on him just as the par- 
 lour door opened. Being aware from such concealment 
 that the visitor came on secret business, he found his situ- 
 ation not a little awkward. Seated behind a curtained 
 •window, which the Hghts in the room made transparent, 
 he could not avoid seeing, as well as hearing, every thing 
 that passed. 
 
 " jMy dear Mr. Burket," cried an elegant young crea- 
 ture, who ran into the apartment, " positively without your 
 assistance I shall be undone." 
 
 " Any thing in my power, madam," returned Mr. Bur- 
 ket, with a distant, respectful voice : " will Your Ladyship 
 sit down ? " 
 
 " Yes ; give me a chair : I am half dead with distrac- 
 tion. ]\Ir. Burket, I must have another hundred upon 
 those jewels." 
 
 " Indeed, my Lady, it is not in my power ; you have 
 already had tAvelve hundred ; and, upon my honour, that 
 is a hundred and fifty more than I ought to have given." 
 
 " Pugh, who minds the honour of a pawnbroker ! " cried 
 the lady, laughing : " you know very well you live by 
 cheating." 
 
 " ^^^ell, ma'am," returned he, with a good-natured 
 smile, " as Your Ladyship pleases."
 
 142 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " Then I please that you let me have another hundred. 
 Why, man, you know you lent INIrs. Hinchinbroke two 
 thousand upon a case of diamonds not a quarter so many 
 as mine." 
 
 " But consider, madam, Mrs. Hinchinbroke's were of 
 the best water." 
 
 \ " Positively, Mr. Burnet," exclaimed Her Ladyship, pur- 
 posely miscalling his name, " not better than mine ! The 
 King of Sardinia gave them to Sir Charles when he 
 knighted him. I know mine are the best, and I must 
 have another hundred. Upon my life, my servants have 
 not had a guinea of board wages these four months, and 
 they tell me they are starving. Come, make haste, Mr. 
 Burnet, you cannot expect me to stay here aU night ; give 
 me the money." 
 
 " Indeed, my Lady, I cannot." 
 
 " Heavens, what a brute of a man you are ! There," 
 cried she, taking a string of pearls from her neck and 
 throwing it on the table, " lend me some of your trumpery 
 out of your shop, for I am going immediately from hence 
 to take up the Misses Dun das to the play ; and so give 
 me the hundred on that, and let me go." 
 
 " This is not worth a hundred." 
 
 " What a teasing man you are ! " cried Her Ladyship 
 angrily. " Well, let me have the money now,, and I will 
 send you the bracelets which belong to the necklace to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " Upon those conditions I will give Your Ladyship an- 
 other hundred." 
 
 " Oh, do ; you are the veriest miser I ever met with. 
 You are worse than Shylock, or, — Good Lord ! what is 
 this .f* " exclaimed she, interrupting herself, and taking up 
 the draft he had laid before her ; " and have you the con- 
 science to think, Mr. Pawnbroker, that I wiU offer this at 
 your banker's ? that I will expose myself so far ? No, 
 no ; take it back, and give me gold. Come, despatch ! 
 else I cannot go to the play. Look, there is my purse," 
 added she, showing it, " make haste and fill it." 
 
 After satisfying her demands, Mr. Burket handed Her 
 Ladyship out the way she came in, which was by a private
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 143 
 
 passage ; and^ having seated her in her carriage^ made his 
 how. 
 
 Meanwhile the Count Sobieski, wrapped in astonishment 
 at the profligacy which the scene he had witnessed implied, 
 remained in concealment until the jiawnbroker returned 
 and opened the closet-door. 
 
 " Sir," said he, colouring, " you have undesignedly, on 
 your part, been privy to a very delicate affair ; but my 
 credit, sir, and your honour " 
 
 " Shall both be sacred," replied the Count, anxious to 
 relieve the poor man from his perplexity, and forbearing 
 to express surprise : — but Burket perceived it in his look ; 
 and before he proceeded to fulfil his engagement with him, 
 stepped half way to the escrutoire, and resumed. 
 
 " You appear amazed, sir, at what you have seen. And, 
 if I am not mistaken, you are from abroad ? " 
 
 " Indeed I am amazed," replied Sobieski ; " and I am 
 from a country, where the slightest suspicion of a trans- 
 action such as this would brand the woman with infamy." 
 
 " And so it ought," answered Burket : " though by that 
 assertion I speak against my own interest ; for it is by 
 such as Lady Villiers we make our money. Now, sir," 
 continued he, drawing nearer to the table, " perhaps, after 
 what you have just beheld, you will not hesitate to credit 
 •what I am going to tell you. I have now in my hands 
 the jewels of one duchess, of three countesses, and of women 
 of fashion without number. ^Vlien these ladies have an 
 ill run at play, they apply to me in their exigencies : they 
 bring their diamonds here, and, as their occasions require, 
 on this deposit I lend them money ; for which they make 
 rae a handsome present when the jewels are released." 
 
 " You astonish me ! " exclaimed Thaddeus, " what a 
 degrading system of deceit must govern the hves of these 
 women ! " 
 
 " It is very lamentable," returned Burket, '' but so it is. 
 And they continue to manage matters very cleverly. By 
 giving me their note or word of honour, (for if these ladies 
 are not honourable with me, I know by what hints to keep 
 them in order,) I allow them to have the jewels out for 
 the birth-days, and receive them again when their exhi-
 
 144 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 bition is over. As a compensation for these little indulg- 
 encies, I expect considerable adtlitions to the present at the 
 end." 
 
 Thaddeus could hardly believe such a history of those 
 women, whom travellers mentioned as not only the most 
 lovely, but the most amiable creatures in the world. 
 
 " Surely, Mr. Burket," cried he, " these ladies must 
 despise each other, and become contemptible even to our sex." 
 
 " O, no," rejoined the pawnbroker, " they seldom trust 
 each other in these affairs. All my fair customers are not 
 so silly as that pretty little lady who just now left us. She 
 and another w^oman of quality, have made each other con- 
 fidants in this business. And Lord have mercy upon me 
 when they come together ! They are as ravenous of my 
 money as if it had no other use but to supply them. As 
 to their husbands, brothers, and fathers, they are usually 
 the last people who suspect or hear of these matters : their 
 applications, when they run out, are made to Jews and 
 professed usurers, a race completely out of our line." 
 
 " But are all EngUsh women of quahty of this disgraceful 
 stamp ? " 
 
 " No, Heaven forbid i " cried Burket : " if these female 
 spendthrifts were not held in awe by the dread of superior 
 characters, we could have no dependence on their promises. 
 Oh no ; there are ladies about the court whose virtues are 
 as eminent as their rank : women, whose actions might all 
 be performed in mid-day, before the world ; and them I 
 never see within my doors." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Burket," rejoined Thaddeus, smiling, " I 
 am glad to hear that. Yet I cannot forget the unexpected 
 view of the so famous British fair, which this night has 
 offered to my eyes. It is strange ! " 
 
 " It is very bad, indeed, sir," returned the man, giving 
 him the money and the paper he had been preparing ; " but 
 if you should have occasion to call again upon me, perhaps 
 you may be astonished still farther." 
 
 The Count bowed ; and, thanking him for his kindness, 
 wished him a good evening, and left the shop.* 
 
 • The whole of this scene at the pawnbroker's is too true : the writer knows 
 it from uii eje and ear witness.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 145 
 
 It was about seven o'clock when Thaddeus arrived at 
 the apothecary's. Mr. ^'incent was from home. To say the 
 truth, he had jiurposely gone out of the way. For thougli 
 lie (Hd not hesitate to commit a shabby action, he wanted 
 courage to face its consequence ; and to avoid the proba- 
 ble remonstrances of Mrs. llobson, he commissioned his 
 assistant to receive the amount of the bill. W^ithout 
 making an observation, the Count paid the man ; and was 
 returning homeward along Duke Street and the Piazzas of 
 Drury Lane Theatre, when the crowd pressing round the 
 doors constrained him to stop. 
 
 After two or three ineffectual attempts to get through 
 the bustle, he retreated a little behind the mob at the mo- 
 ment when a chariot drew up, and a gentleman stepping 
 out with two ladies, darted Avith them into the house. 
 One glance was sufficient for Sobieski, who recognised his 
 friend Pembroke Somerset, in full dress, gay, and laugh- 
 ing. The heart of Thaddeus sprang to him at the sight ; 
 and forgetting his neglect, and his own misfortunes, he 
 ejaculated — 
 
 " Somerset !" 
 
 Trembling with eagerness and pleasure, he pressed 
 through the crowd, and entered the passage at the instant a 
 a green door within shut upon his friend. 
 
 His disappointment was dreadful. To be so near So- 
 merset, and to lose him, was more than he could sustain. 
 His bounding heart recoiled ; and the chill of despair 
 running through his veins, turned him faint. Leaning 
 against the door, he took his hat off" to give himself air. 
 He scarcely had stood a minute in this situation revolving 
 ■whether he should follow his friend into the house, or wait 
 until he came out again, when a gentleman begged him to 
 make way for a party of ladies that were entering. Thad- 
 deus moved on one side ; but the opening of the green 
 door casting a strong light both on his face and the group 
 behind, his eyes and those of the impertinent inquisitor 
 of the Hummums met each other. 
 
 "Whether the man were conscious that he deserved chas- 
 tisement for his former insolence, and dreaded to meet it 
 now, cannot be explained ; but he turned pale, and shuf- 
 ii
 
 146 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 fled by Thaddeus, as if he were fearful to trust himself 
 within reach of his grasp. For the Count, he was too deeply 
 interested in his own pursuit, to waste one surmise upon him. 
 
 He continued to muse on the sight of Pembroke Somer- 
 set, which had conjured up ten thousand fond and distress- 
 ing recollections ; and, with impatient anxiety, determin- 
 ing to watch till the performance was over, he thought of 
 enquiring his friend's address of the servants ; but on 
 looking round for that purpose, he perceived the chariot 
 had driven away. 
 
 Thus foiled, he returned to his post near the green 
 door ; which was opened at intervals, by footmen, passing 
 and repassing. Seeing the chamber within was a lobby, 
 in which it would be less likely he should miss his object, 
 than if he stood without, he entered with the next person 
 that approached ; and finding seats along the sides, sat 
 down on the one nearest to the stairs. 
 
 His first idea was to proceed into the play-house. But 
 he considered the little chance of discovering any parti- 
 cular individual in so vast a building, as not equal to the 
 expense he must incur. Besides, from the dress of the 
 gentlemen who entered the box-door, he was sensible his 
 great coat and hat were not admissible. 
 
 Having remained above an hour with his eyes invariably 
 fixed on the stairs, he observed that same curious person 
 who had passed almost directly after his friend, come down 
 the steps and walk out. In two minutes he was returning 
 with a smirking countenance, when his eyes accidentally 
 falling on the Count, (who sat Avith his arms folded, and 
 almost hidden by the shadow of the wall,) he faltered in 
 his walk ; and stretching out his neck towards him, the 
 gay grin left his features ; and exclaiming in an impatient 
 voice, " Confound him ! " he hastened once more into the 
 house. 
 
 This rencontre with his Hummums' acquaintance af- 
 fected Thaddeus as slightly as the former ; and, without 
 annexing even a thought to his figure as it flitted by him, 
 he remained watching in the passage until half after eleven. 
 At that hour, the doors were thrown open, and the com- 
 pany began to pour forth.
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 14? 
 
 The Count's hopes were again on his lips and in his 
 eyes. With the first party who came down the steps, he 
 rose ; and planting himself close to the bottom stair drew 
 his hat over his face, and narrowly examined each group 
 as it descended. Every set that approached made his 
 heart palpitate : how often did it rise and fall, during the 
 long succession which continued moving for near half an 
 hour ! 
 
 By twelve, the house was cleared. lie saw the middle 
 door locked ; and motionless with disappointment, tlid not 
 attempt to stir, until the man who held the keys told him 
 to go, as he was about to fasten the other doors. 
 
 This roused Thaddeus ; and as he was preparing to 
 obey, he asked the man, if there were any other passage 
 from the boxes. 
 
 '' Yes," cried he, " there is one into Drury Lane." 
 
 \' Then, by that I have lost him ! " was the reply 
 which he made to himself. And returning homewards, he 
 arrived there a few minutes after twelve. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Thaddeus awoke in the morning with his heart fidl of the 
 last night's rencontre. One moment he regretted that he had 
 not been seen by his friend. In the next, when he surveyed 
 his altered state, he was almost reconciled to the disappoint- 
 ment. Then reproaching himself for a pride so unbecoming 
 his principles, and dishonourable to friendship, he asked, 
 if he were in Somerset's place, and Somerset in his, whether 
 he could ever pardon the morose delicacy which prevented 
 the communication of his friend's misfortunes and arrival in 
 the same kingdom with himself ? 
 
 These reflections soon persuaded his judgment to what 
 he was so much inclined, determining him to enquire Pem- 
 broke's address of every one likely to know a man of Sir 
 Robert Somerset's consequence; and then to venture a letter. 
 
 In the midst of these meditations the door opened, and 
 Mrs. Robson appeared, drowned in tears. 
 L 2
 
 148 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " My dear^ dear sir !" cried she, " my William is going; 
 I have just taken a last look of his sweet face. Will you go 
 down, and say farewell to the poor child you loved so dearly ? " 
 
 " No, my good madam," returned Thaddeus, his straying 
 throughts at once gathering round this mournful centre ; " I 
 will rather retain you here until the melancholy task be en- 
 tirely accomplished." 
 
 With a gentle violence he forced her upon a seat, and in 
 silence supported her head on his breast, against which she 
 unconsciously leaned and wept. He listened with a depressed 
 heart to the removal of the coffin ; and at the closing of the 
 street door, which for ever shut the little William from that 
 house in which he had been the source of its greatest plea- 
 sure, a tear trickled down the cheek of Thaddeus ; and the 
 sobbings of the poor grandmother were audible. 
 
 The Coimt, incapable of speaking, pressed her hand in his. 
 
 " O, Mr. Constantine !" cried she, " see how my sup- 
 ports, one after the other, are taken from me ! first my son, 
 and now his infant ! To what shall I be reduced?" 
 
 " You have still, my good I\Irs. Robson, a friend in 
 Heaven, who will supply the place of all you have lost on 
 earth." 
 
 " True, dear sir ! I am a wicked creature to speak as I 
 have done ; but it is hard to suffer : it is hard to lose all we 
 loved in the world !" 
 
 " It is," returned the Count, greatly affected by her grief. 
 " But God, who is perfect wisdom, as well as perfect love, 
 chooseth, rather to profit us, than to please us, in his dis- 
 pensations. Our sweet William has gained by our loss ; he 
 is blest in heaven, while we weakly lament him on earth. 
 Besides, you are not yet deprived of all; you have a grand- 
 daughter." 
 
 " Ah ! poor little thing ! what will become of her when 
 I die ? I used to think, what a precious brother my darling 
 boy would prove to his sister, when I should be no more !" 
 
 This additional image augmented the affliction of the good 
 old woman ; and Thaddeus, looking on her with affec- 
 tionate compassion, exclaimed — 
 
 " Mrs. Robson^ the same Almighty Being that protected
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 149 
 
 me, the last of my family, will protect the orphan offspring 
 of so excellent a woman as you are." 
 
 Mrs. Robson lifted up her head for a moment. She had 
 never before heard him utter a sentence of his own history; 
 and what he now said, added to the tender solemnity of his 
 manner, for an instant arrested her attention. — He went on. 
 
 " In me you see a man, who, within the short space of 
 three months, has lost a grandfather that loved him as fondly 
 as you did your ^V'^illiam ; a mother, whom he saw expire 
 before him, and whose sacred remains he was forced to leave 
 in the hands of her murderers ! Yes, Mrs. Robson, I have 
 neither parents nor a home. / was a strangrr, and you 
 took me in; and Heaven will reward your family in kind. 
 At least I promise, that whilst I live, whatever be my fate, 
 should you be called hence, I will protect your grand- 
 daughter -with a brother's care." 
 
 " May lieaven in its mercy bless you !" cried Mrs. Robson, 
 dropping on her knees. Tliaddeus raised her with gushing 
 eyes ; and, having replaced her in a seat, left the room to 
 recover himself. 
 
 According to the Count's desire, INIrs. Watts called in the 
 evening with an estimate of the expenses attending the child's 
 interment. Fees and every charge collected, the demand on 
 his benevolence was six pounds. The sum proved rather 
 more than he expected, but he paid it without a demur, 
 leaving himself only a few shillings. 
 
 He considered what he had done as the fulfilment of a 
 duty so indispensable, that it must have been accomplished 
 even by the sacrifice of his uttermost farthing. Gratitude 
 and distress held claims upon him, which he never allowed 
 his own necessities to transgress. All gifts of mere gene- 
 rosity were beyond his power, and consequently in a short 
 time beyond his wish ; but to the cry of want and wretched- 
 ness his hand and heart were ever open. Often has he given 
 away to a starving child in the street that pittance which 
 was to purchase his own hard meal ; and he never felt such 
 neglect of himself a privation. To have turned his eyes 
 and ears from the little mendicant would have been the 
 hardest struggle ; an<l the remembrance of such inhumanity 
 would have hauntetl him on his pillow. This being the dis- 
 h 3
 
 150 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 position of the Count Sobieski, he found it more difficult to 
 bear calamity, when viewing another's poverty he could not 
 relieve, than when assailed himself by penury in all its other 
 shapes of desolation. 
 
 Towards night the idea of Somerset again presented itself. 
 "WTien he fell asleep, his dreams repeated the scene at the 
 play-house ; again he saw him, and again he eluded his 
 grasp. 
 
 His waking thoughts were not less true to their object ; 
 and the next morning he went to a coffee-house in the lane, 
 where he called for breakfast, and enquired of the master if 
 he knew the residence of Sir Robert Somerset. The question 
 was no sooner asked, than it was answered to his satisfac- 
 tion. The Court Guide was examined, and he found this 
 address : ' Sir Robert Somerset, Bart. Grosvenor Square, — 
 Somerset Castle, L — shire, Deerhurst, C shire.' 
 
 Gladdened by the discovery, Thaddeus hastened home ; 
 and unwilling to affect his friend by a sudden appearance, 
 with an overflowing heart he wrote the following letter : — 
 
 " To Pembroke Somerset, Esq. 
 
 " Grosvenor Square. 
 
 " Dear Somerset, 
 
 " Will the name at the bottom of this paper surprise you.-* 
 Will it give you pleasure ? I cannot suffer myself to retain 
 a doubt, although the silence of two years would almost con- 
 vince me I am forgotten. In truth, Somerset, I had resolved 
 never to obtrude myself and my misfortunes on your know- 
 ledge, until last Wednesday night when I saw you going into 
 Drury Lane Theatre; the sight of you quelled all my resent- 
 ment, and I called after you, but you did not hear. Pardon 
 me, my dear friend, that I speak of resentment. It is hard 
 to learn resignation to the forgetfulness of those we love. 
 
 " Notwithstanding that I lost the pocket-book which 
 contained your direction, I wrote to you frequently at a 
 venture ; and yet, though you knew in what spot in Poland 
 you left Thaddeus and his family, I have never heard of 
 you since the day of our separation. You must have some 
 good reason for your silence ; at least I hope so. 
 
 " Doubtless public report has afforded you some inform-
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 151 
 
 ation relative to the destruction of my ever-beloved country ! 
 I bear its fate on myself. You will find me in a poor lodg- 
 ing at the bottom of St. Martin's Lane. You will find me 
 changed in every thing. The first horrors of grief have 
 subsided ; and my dearest consolation in the midst of my 
 affliction rises out of its bitterest cause : I thank Heaven, 
 my revered grandfather and mother were taken from a con- 
 summation of ills which would have reduced them to a 
 misery, I am content to endure alone- 
 
 " Come to me, dear Somerset. To look on you, to press 
 you in my arms, will be a happiness, which even in hope 
 makes my heart throb with pleasure. 
 
 " I will remain at home all day to-morrow in the ex- 
 pectation of seeing you ; meanwhile adieu, my dear Somer- 
 set : you will find, at No. 5. St. Martin's Lane, your very 
 affectionate 
 
 '^ TlIADDEUS CONSTANTINE CoUNT SoBIESKI. 
 " Friday noon. 
 '^ P. S. Enquire for me by the name of Mr. Constantine." 
 
 " ^Yith the most delightful emotions Thaddeus sealed 
 this letter, and gave it to Nanny, with orders to enquire at 
 the post-office when he might expect an answer. The child 
 returned wdth information, it would reach Grosvenor Square 
 in an hour, and he could have a reply by three o'clock. 
 
 Three o'clock arrived, and no letter. Thaddeus counted 
 the hours until midnight, but they brought him nothing but 
 disappointment. The whole of the succeeding day wore 
 away in the same uncomfortable manner. His heart bounded 
 at every step in the passage ; and throwing open his room- 
 door, he listened to every person that spoke, but no voice 
 bore any resemblance to that of Somerset. 
 
 Night again shut in ; and overcome by a train of doubts, 
 in which despondence held the greatest share, he threw him- 
 self on his bed, though unable to close his eyes. 
 
 Whatever be our afflictions, not one human creature who 
 has endured misfortune will hesitate to aver, that of all the 
 tortures incident to mortality, there are none like the rack- 
 ings of suspense. It is the hell which Milton describes 
 with such horrible accuracy ; in its hot and cold regions, 
 L 4
 
 152 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 the anxious soul is alternately tossed from the ardours of 
 hope, to the petrifying rigours of doubt and dread. Men 
 who have not been suspended between confidence and fear, 
 in their judgment of a beloved friend's faithfulness, are ig- 
 norant of " the nerve whence agonies are born." It is, when 
 sunk in sorrow ; when adversity loads us with divers mi- 
 series ; and our wretchedness is complete ; it is then, we 
 are compelled to acknowledge, — that though hfe is brief, 
 there are few friendships which have strength to follow it 
 to the end. 
 
 Such were the reflections of the Count Sobieski, when he 
 arose in the morning from his sleepless pillow. The idea 
 that the letter might have been delayed afforded him a 
 faint hope which he cherished all day, clinging to the ex- 
 pectation of seeing his friend before sunset. But Somerset 
 did not appear ; and obliged to seek an excuse for his ab- 
 sence in the supposition of his application having miscarried, 
 Thaddeus determined to write once more, and to deliver the 
 letter himself at his friend's door. Accordingly, with emo- 
 tions different from those with which he had addressed him 
 a few days before, he wrote these lines : — 
 
 " To Pembroke Somerset, Esq. 
 
 " If he, who once called Thaddeus Sobieski his friend^ 
 have received a letter Avhich that exile addressed to him on 
 Friday last, this note will meet the same neglect. But if 
 this be the first intelligence that tells Somerset, his friend 
 is in town, perhaps he may overlook that friend's change of 
 fortune ; he may visit him in his distress, who will receive 
 him with open arms at his humble abode in St. Martin's 
 Lane. 
 
 " Sunday evening, No. 5. St. Martin's Lane." 
 
 Thaddeus, having sealed the letter, walked out in search 
 of Sir Robert Somerset's habitation. After some enquiries, 
 he found Grosvenor Square ; and amidst the darkness of 
 the night, was directed to the house by the light of the 
 lamps and the lustres which shone through tlie open win- 
 dows. He hesitated a few minutes on the pavement, and 
 looked up. An old gentleman was standing with a little
 
 TIIADDEUS OP WARSAW. 153 
 
 boy at the nearest window. "W'hilst the Count's eyes were 
 fixed on these two figures, he saw Somerset himself come 
 up to the child and lead it away towards a group of ladies. 
 
 Thaddeus immediately Hew to the door with a tremor 
 over his frame which communicated itself to the knocker_, 
 for he knocked Avith such violence that the door was opened 
 in an instant by half a dozen footmen at once. He spoke 
 to one. 
 
 " Is Mr. Pembroke Somerset at home ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied the man^ who saw by his plain dress he 
 could not be an invited guest ; " but he is engaged with 
 company." 
 
 ** I do not want to see him now," rejoined the Count ; 
 " only give him that letter, for it is of consequence." 
 
 " Certainly, sir/' replied the servant ; and Thaddeus in- 
 stantly withdrew. 
 
 He now turned homewards, with his mind more than 
 commonly depressed. There was a something in the whole 
 affair which pierced him to the soul. He had seen the 
 house that contained the man he most warmly, loved, but 
 he had not been admitted within it. He could not forbear 
 recollecting, that when his gates opened Avide as his heart 
 to welcome Pembroke Somerset, hoAv he had been implored 
 by his then grateful friend, to bring the Palatine and the 
 Countess to England, where his father would be proud to 
 entertain them as the preservers of his son. How different 
 from these professions did he find the reality ! Instead of 
 seeing the doors unclose to receive him, he was allowed to 
 stand hkc a beggar on the threshold ; and he heard them 
 shut against him, whilst the form of Somerset glided above 
 him, even as the shadow of his buried joys. 
 
 These discomforting retrospections on the past, and pain- 
 ful meditations on the present, continued to occupy his mind, 
 until passing over from Piccadilly to Coventry Street, he 
 perceived a wretched looking man, almost bent doidile, ac- 
 costing a party of people in broken French, and imploring 
 their charity. 
 
 The voice and the accent being Sclavonian, arrested the 
 ear of Thaddeus. Drawing close to the man, as the party
 
 154 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 proceeded without taking notice of his appUcation, he hastily 
 asked, " Are you a Polander ? " 
 
 " Father of mercies ! " cried the beggar, catching hold 
 of his hand, " am I so blessed ! have I at last met him ? " 
 and, bursting into tears, he leaned upon the arm of the 
 Count, who, hardly able to articulate with surprise, ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " Dear, worthy Butzou ! What a time is this for you 
 and I to meet ! But come, you must go home with me." 
 
 " Willingly, my dear Lord," returned he ; " for I have 
 no home. I begged my way from Harwich to this town ; 
 and have already spent two dismal nights in the streets." 
 
 " O, my country ! " cried the full heart of Thaddeus. 
 
 " Yes," continued the poor old soldier, " it received its 
 death wound when Kosciuszko and my honoured master 
 feU." 
 
 It- Thaddeus could not reply; but, supporting the exhausted 
 frame of his friend, who was hardly able to walk, after many 
 pauses gladly descried his own door. 
 
 The widow opened it the moment he knocked; and seeing 
 some one with him, was retreating, when Thaddeus, who 
 found from the silence of Butzou tliat he was faint, begged 
 her to allow him to take his companion into her parlour. 
 She instantly made way, and the Count placed the now in- 
 sensible old man in the arm-chair by the fire. 
 
 " He is my friend, my father's friend !" cried Thaddeus, 
 looking at his pale and haggard face, with a strange wild- 
 ness in his own features ; " for heaven's sake give me some- 
 thing to restore him !" 
 
 jNIrs. Robson in dismay, and literally having nothing 
 better in the house, gave him a glass of water. 
 
 " That will not do," exclaimed he, still upholding the 
 motionless body on his arm; " have you no wine? nothing? 
 He is dying for want." 
 
 " None, sir ; I have none :" answered she, frightened at 
 the violence of his manner ; " run, Nanny, and borrow 
 some of Mrs. Watts." 
 
 " Do," said Thaddeus ; " and bring me a bottle from 
 the nearest inn." As he spoke he threw her the only half
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 155 
 
 guinea he possessed, and added, " Fly, for he may die in 
 a moment." 
 
 The child flew like lightning to the Golden Cross ; and 
 brought the wine just as Butzou had opened his eyes, and 
 was gazing at Thaddeus with a languid agony that pene- 
 trated his soul. Mrs. Robson held the water to his lips. 
 He swallowed a little, and scarcely articulated, " I am pe- 
 rishing for want of food." 
 
 Thaddeus caught the bottle from Nanny, and pouring 
 some wine into a glass, made him drink it. This draught 
 a little revived him. He raised himself in his seat ; and 
 though still panting and speechless, leaned his swimming 
 head upon the bosom of his friend, who knelt by his side, 
 whilst Mrs. Robson was preparing some toasted bread and 
 heated wine. 
 
 After much exertion between the good landlady and the 
 Count, they sufficiently recovered the poor invalid to enable 
 him to walk up stairs and lie down on the bed. The drow- 
 siness usually attendant on debility, aided by the fumes of 
 the wine, threw him into an immediate and deep sleep. 
 
 Thaddeus, seeing him at rest, thought it proper to rejoin 
 Mrs. Robson ; and, by a partial history of his friend, acquaint 
 her with the occasion of the foregoing scene. He found 
 the good woman surprised and concerned, but no way dis- 
 pleased ; and, in a few Avords, he gave her a summary 
 explanation of the precipitancy with which, without her 
 permission, he had introduced a stranger under her roof. 
 
 The substance of what he said, related that the person 
 up stairs had served with him in the army ; and that, on 
 the ruin of his country (which he could no longer conceal 
 was Poland), he had come in quest of him to England, and 
 in his journey had sustained misfortunes which had reduced 
 him to the state she saw. 
 
 " I met him," continued he, " as a beggar in the street ; 
 and whilst he lives I shall hold it my duty to protect him. 
 I love him for his own sake, and I honour him for my 
 grandfather's. Besides, Mrs. Robson," cried he, with ad- 
 ditional energy, " before I left my country, I made a vow 
 to my sovereign, that wherever I should meet this brave 
 old man, I would serve him to the last hour of his life.
 
 156 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 Therefore we must part no more. Will you give him 
 shelter ? " added he in a subdued voice. " Will you allow 
 me to retain him in my apartments ? " 
 
 " AV^illingly, sir ; but how can I accommodate him ; he 
 is already in your bed, and I have not one to spare ? " 
 
 " Leave that to me, best, kindest of women !" exclaimed 
 the Count ; " your permission has rendered me happy." 
 
 He then wished her a good night, and returning up stairs, 
 wrapped himself in his dressing-gown, and passed the night 
 by the Httle fire of the sitting room. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Owing to comfortable refreshment, and a night of undis- 
 turbed sleep. General Butzou awoke in the morning much 
 recovered from the weakness which had subdued him the 
 preceding day. 
 
 Thaddeus observed this change with pleasure. ^Vliilst 
 he sat by his bed, ministering to him with the care of a son, 
 he dwelt with a melancholy delight on his reverend features, 
 and listened to his languid voice with those tender associa- 
 tions which are dear to the heart, though they pierce it with 
 anguish. 
 
 " Tell me, my dear General," said he, " for I can bear 
 to hear it now ; tell me what has befallen my unhappy 
 country since I quitted it." 
 
 " Every calamity," cried the brave old man, shaking his 
 head, " that tyranny could devise." 
 
 '' Well, go on," returned the Count, with a smile, which 
 too truly declared the composure of his air was assumed ; 
 " we, who have beheld her sufferings and yet live, need not 
 fear hearing them described ! Did you see the King before 
 he left ^V^arsaw ? " 
 
 " No," replied Butzou, " our oppressors took care of that. 
 Whilst you, my Lord, were recovering of your wounds in 
 the citadel^ I set off for Sachoryn to join Prince Poniatowski.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 15? 
 
 In my way thither I met some soldiers, who informed me 
 that his Highness, having been compelled to discharge the 
 troops, was returning to support his brother under the in- 
 dignities which the haughtiness of Suwarrow might jircme- 
 ditate. I then directed my steps towards Sendomir, where 
 I hoped to find Dombrowski, with a few faithful followers ; 
 but here too I was disappointed. Two days before my 
 arrival, that General, according to orders, had disbanded 
 the whole party.* I now found that Poland was com- 
 pletely in the hands of her ravagers, and I prepared to re- 
 turn. I was shocked and agonised at every step I re-trod. 
 I beheld the shores of the A'istula lined on every side with 
 Russian troops. Ten thousand were posted on her banks, 
 and eighteen thousand amongst the ruins of Prague and 
 Villanow. 
 
 " 'When I approached the walls of 'Warsaw, imagine, my 
 dear Count, how great was my indignation ! How barbarous, 
 how unmanly the conduct of our enemies ! Batteries of 
 cannon were erected around the city, to level it with the 
 ground, on the smallest murmur of discontent. 
 
 " On the morning of my arrival, I %vas hastening to the 
 palace to pay my duty to the king, when a Russian officer 
 intercepted me, and threatened, if I attempted to pass, my 
 obstinacy should be fatal to me, and hazardous to his Ma- 
 jesty ; whose confinement and sufferings were augmented in 
 proportion to the adherents he retained amongst the Poles. 
 Hearing this, I was turning away overwhelmed with grief, 
 when the doors of the audience-chamber opened, and the 
 Counts Potocki, Kilinski, and several others of your grand- 
 father's dearest friends, were led forth under a guard. I 
 was standing motionless with surprise, when Potocki, per- 
 ceiving me, held forth his hand. I took it, and wringing 
 it, in the bitterness of my heart uttered some words which 
 I cannot remember, but the Russian bade me beware how I 
 again gave way to such injurious remarks on his nation. 
 
 " • Dombrowski withdrew into France, where he was soon joined by others of 
 his brave countrymen ; which little band, in process of time, by gradual acces- 
 sion of numbers, became what was afterwards styled the celebrated Polish 
 legion, in the army of Napoleon ; at the head of which legion, the Prince 
 Poniatowslci, so often mentioned in these pages, lost his life in the fatal frontier 
 river liis dauntless courage dared to swim. His remains were taken to Cra- 
 cow, and buried near to the tomb of John Sobieski.
 
 158 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " ' Farewell, my worthy General,' said the Count, ' you 
 see we are arrested. We loved Poland too faithfully for 
 her enemies ; and for that reason we ai'e to be sent pri- 
 soners to Petersburgh. Sharing the fate of Kosciuszko, our 
 chains are our distinction; such a collar of merit is the 
 most glorious order which the imperial Catharine can be- 
 stow : — the knights of St. Stanislaus would reject all other 
 from their hands.' — ' Sir, I cannot admit of this conversa- 
 tion,' cried the officer of the guard ; and commanding the 
 escort to proceed, I lost sight of these illustrious patriots, 
 probably for ever. 
 
 " I understood from the few Poles who remained in the 
 citadel, that the good Stanislaus was to be sent on the same 
 dismal errand to Grodno the next day. They also told me, 
 that Poland being no more, you had torn yourself from its 
 bleeding remains, rather than behold the triumphant entry 
 of its conqueror. This insulting pageant was performed on 
 the pth of November last. On the 8th, I believe, you left 
 Warsaw for England." 
 
 " Yes," replied the Count, who listened with a breaking 
 heart to this distressing narrative ; " and doubtless I saved 
 myself much misery." 
 
 " You did. One of the magistrates described to me the 
 whole scene, at which I would not have been present for 
 worlds. He told me, that when the morning arrived in 
 which Suwarrow was to make his public entree, not a citizen 
 would be seen that was not brought out by compulsion. A 
 dead silence reigned in the streets : the doors and windows 
 of every house remained so closed, that a stranger might 
 have supposed it to be a general mourning ; and it was the 
 bitterest which could have fallen upon our souls ! At tliis 
 moment, when ^Yarsaw, I may say, lay dying at the feet of 
 her conqueror, the Russian troops marched into the city, 
 the only spectators of their own horrible tragedy. At length, 
 with eyes which could no longer weep, the magistrates, re- 
 luctant, and full of indignation, proceeded to meet Suwarrow 
 on the bridge of Prague. When they came near the pro- 
 cession, they presented the keys of Warsaw on their 
 knees " 
 
 I
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 159 
 
 " On their knees ! " interrupted Thaddeus, starting up, 
 and the blood flushing over his face. 
 
 " Yes," answered Butzou, " on their knees." 
 " Almighty justice ! " exclaimed the Count, pacing the 
 room with emotion ; " why did not the earth open and 
 swallow them ? Why did not the blood which saturated the 
 spot whereon they knelt cry out to them ? O Butzou, this 
 humiliation of Poland is worse to me than all her mi- 
 
 series 
 
 " I felt as you feel, my Lord," continued the General ; 
 " and I expressed myself with the same resentment ; but 
 the magistrate who related to me the circumstance, urged 
 in excuse for himself and his brethren, that such a form 
 was necessary ; and had they refused, probably their lives 
 would have been forfeited." 
 
 " Well," enquired Thaddeus, resuming his seat, " but 
 where was the King during this transaction ? " 
 
 " In the castle ; where he received orders to be present 
 next day at a public thanksgiving ; at which the inhabitants 
 of Warsaw were also commanded to attend, to perform a Te 
 Deum, in gratitude for the destruction of their country. I 
 thank Heaven that I was spared from witnessing this mon- 
 strous blasphemy ; I was then at Sendomir. The day after 
 I heard these horrid accounts, I saw the carriage which 
 contained the good Stanislaus, guarded like a traitor's out of 
 the gates ; and that very hour 1 left the city. I travelled 
 towards Hamburgh, where I took my passage to Harwich. 
 Owing to excessive fatigue, one of my old wounds broke 
 out afresh ; and continuing ill a week, I expended all my 
 money. Reduced to my last shilling, and eager to find 
 you, I begged my way from that town to this. I had al- 
 ready spent two miserable days and nights in the open air, 
 with no other sustenance than the casual charity of passen- 
 gers, when Heaven sent you, my beloved Lord, to save me 
 from perishing in the streets." 
 
 Butzou pressed the hand of his young friend, as he con- 
 cluded. Displeasure still kept its station on the Count's 
 features. 
 
 The good General observed it with satisfaction ; well 
 pleased that indignation at the supposed pusillanimity of
 
 l60 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 his countrymen prevented those bursts of grief which he 
 had expected from his sensible nature, when he should be 
 informed that ruined Poland was not only treated by its 
 ravager as a slave, but loaded with the shackles and usage 
 of a criminal. 
 
 Towards evening General Butzou fell asleep. Thaddeus, 
 leaning back in his chair, fixed his eyes on the fire, and 
 mused with amazement and sorrow on what had passed. 
 When it was almost dark, and he was yet lost in reflection, 
 JVIrs. Robson gently opened the door, and presenting a let- 
 ter ; " Here, sir," said she, " is a letter, which a servant 
 has just left ; he told me it reqviired no answer." 
 
 Thaddeus sprung from his seat at sight of the paper, and 
 almost catching it from her, his former gloomy cogitations 
 dispersed before the hopes and fond emotions of friendship 
 which now lit up in his bosom. Mrs. Robson withdrew. 
 He looked at the suj^erscrijition — it was the handwriting of 
 his friend. Tearing it asunder, two folded papers presented 
 themselves ; he opened them, and they were his own letters, 
 returned without a Avord. His beating heart was suddenly 
 checked. Letting the papers fall from his hand, he dropped 
 on a seat, and closed his eyes, as if he would shut them 
 from the world and its ingratitude. 
 
 Unable to recover from astonishment, his thoughts whirled 
 about in a succession of accusations, surmises, and doubts, 
 which seemed for a few minutes to drive him to dis- 
 traction. 
 
 " Was it really the hand of Somerset ? " 
 
 Again he examined the envelope. It was ; and the en- 
 closures were his own letters, without one word of apology 
 for such ingratitude. 
 
 " Could he make one ? No," replied Thaddeus to him- 
 self. " Unhappy that I am, to have been induced to apply 
 twice to so despicable a man ! Oh, Somerset," cried he, 
 looking at the papers as they lay before him, " was it ne- 
 cessary that insult should be added to unfaithfulness and 
 ingratitude, to throw me off entirely .f* Good Heaven ! did 
 he think, because I wrote twice, I would persecute him with 
 applications ? I have been told this of mankind ; but, that 
 I should find it in him I"
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 I6l 
 
 In this way, agitated and muttering, and walking up and 
 down the room, he spent another wakeful and cheerless 
 night. 
 
 When he went down stairs next morning to beg Mrs. 
 Robson to attend his friend until his return, she mentioned 
 her uneasiness at having heard him most of the preceding 
 night, moving above her head. lie was accounting to her 
 for his restlessness, by complaining of a headach, when 
 she interrupted him by saying, " O no, sir ; I am sure it is 
 the hard boards you lie on, to accommodate tlie poor old 
 gentleman. I am certain you will make yourself ill." 
 
 Thaddeus thanked her for her solicitude, but declaring 
 that all beds, hard or soft, were alike to him, he left her ; 
 and, with his drawings in his -pocket, once more took the 
 path to Great Newport Street. 
 
 Indignation against his fickle friend, and anxiety for the 
 tranquillity of General Butzou, whose age, infirmities, and 
 sufferings, threatened a speedy termination of his life, de- 
 termined the Count to sacrifice all false delicacy and weak- 
 ness ; and to hazard another attempt at acquiring the 
 means of affording those comforts to the sick veteran 
 which his condition demanded. Happen how it would, he 
 resolved that Butzou should never know the complete wreck 
 of his property. He shuddered at loading him with the 
 additional distress, of thinking that he was a burden on his 
 protector. 
 
 Thaddeus passed the door of the printseller who behaved 
 so ill to him on his first application ; and walking to the 
 farthest shop on the same side, entered it ; and laying his 
 drawings on the counter, requested the master to look at 
 them. The man opened the packet ; and the Count, dread- 
 ing a second repulse, or even more than similar insolence, 
 hastily added — 
 
 " They -are scenes in Germany. If you like to have them 
 their price is a guinea." 
 
 " Are you the painter, sir ? " asked the man. 
 
 " Yes, sir. Do they please you ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered the man, examining them nearer ; 
 " there is a breadth and freedom in the style which is no- 
 vel, and may take. I will give you your demand." 
 
 M
 
 Ib'2 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 Rejoiced that he had succeeded where he entertained no 
 hope, Thaddeus with a bow was leaving the shop, when the 
 man called after him, " Sir ! sir ! " 
 
 He returned, prepared to hear some impertinent re- 
 mark. 
 
 It is strange, but it is true, that those who have been 
 thrust by misfortune to a state beneath their birth and ex- 
 pectations consider themselves the objects of universal hos- 
 tility. They see contempt in every eye, they suppose insult 
 in every word ; the slightest neglect is sufficient to set the 
 sensitive pride of the unfortunate in a blaze : and, alas ! 
 how little is this sensibility respected by the rich and gay in 
 their dealings with the unhappy ! To what an addition of 
 misery are the wretched exposed ; meeting not only those 
 contumelies which the prosperous are not backward to be- 
 stow, but those fancied ills, which, however unfounded, keep 
 the mind in a feverish struggle with itself, and warfare with 
 the surrounding world ! 
 
 Repeated insults infused into the Count Sobieski much 
 of this anticipating irritability ; and it was with a very 
 haughty step that he turned back to hear what the print- 
 seller meant to say. 
 
 " I only want to ask, whether you follow this art as a 
 jjrofession ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then, I shall be glad if you can furnish me with six 
 such drawings every week." 
 
 " Certainly," replied Thaddeus, pleased with the pro- 
 bability of securing something towards the support of his 
 friend. 
 
 '' Then bring me another half dozen next Monday." 
 
 Thaddeus promised, and with a relieved mind took his 
 way homeward. 
 
 Who is there in England that does not remember the 
 tlreadful winter of ITD'i, when the whole country lay buried 
 in a thick ice which seemed eternal ? Over that ice, and 
 through those snows, the venerable General Butzou begged 
 his way from Harwich to London. He rested at night un- 
 der the shelter of some shed or outhouse ; and cooled his 
 feverish thirst with a little water, taken from under the 
 broken ice which locked uj) the springs. The effect of this
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 163 
 
 was a painful rheumatism, whicli fixed itself in his limbs, 
 and now rendered them nearly useless. 
 
 Two or three weeks passed over the heads of the General 
 and his young protector : Thaddeus cheering the old man 
 with his smiles ; and he, in return, imparting the only plea- 
 sure to him which his melancholy heart could receive ; the 
 conviction that his attentions and affection were productive 
 of comfort. 
 
 In the exercise of these duties, the Count not only found 
 his health gradually recover its tone, but his mind became 
 more tranquil, and less prone to those sudden floods of re- 
 gret, which were rapidly sapping his life. By a strict 
 economy on his own part, he managed to pay the widow 
 and support liis friend out of the weekly profits of his draw- 
 ings, which were now and then augmented by a commission 
 to do one or two more than the stipulated number. 
 
 Thus conversing with Butzou, reading to him when 
 awake, or pursuing his drawings when he slept, Thaddeus 
 spent the time until the beginning of March. 
 
 One fine starlight evening in that month, just before the 
 frost broke up, after painting aU day, he desired little Nanny 
 to take care of the General ; and leaving his work at the 
 printseller's, he then proceeded through Piccadilly, intend- 
 ing to go as far as Hyde Park Corner, and return. 
 
 Pleased with the beauty of the night, he walked on, not 
 remarking that he had passed the turnpike, until he heard a 
 scream. The sound came from near the Park wall. He 
 hurried along, and at a short distance peceived a woman 
 strugghng with a man, who who was swearing and behaving 
 in a very brutal manner. 
 
 Without a moment's hesitation, with one blow of his 
 arm, Thaddeus sent the fellow reeling against the wall. But 
 whilst he supported the outraged person who was fainting, 
 the man recovered himself and rushing on her champion, 
 aimed a stroke at his head with an immense bludgeon, 
 which the Count catching hold of as it descended, wrenched 
 out of his hand. The horrid oaths of the ruffian, and the 
 hysterical shrieks of the woman, collected a mob, when the 
 villain, fearing worse usage, made off", and left Thaddeus to 
 restore the terrified female at his leisure. 
 M 2
 
 l64 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 As soon as she was able to speak, she thanked her deliverer 
 in a voice and language that assured him it was no common 
 person he had befriended. But, in the circumstance of her 
 distress, all would have been the same to him ; a helpless 
 female was insulted; and whatever her rank might be, he 
 thought she had an equal claim on his protection. 
 
 The mob dispersed ; and finding the lady capable of 
 walking, he begged permission to see her safe home. 
 
 " I thank you, sir," replied she ; " and I accept your offer 
 with gratitude. Besides, after your generous interference, 
 it is requisite I should account to you how a woman of my 
 appearance came out at this hour without attendance. I 
 have no other excuse to advance for such imprudence, than 
 that I have often done so with impimity. I have a friend, 
 whose husband being in the Guards Uves near the barracks. 
 We often drink tea with each other ; sometimes my ser- 
 vants come for m.e ; and sometimes when I am wearied and 
 indisposed, I come away earlier, and alone. This happened 
 to-night ; and I have to thank your gallantry, sir, for my 
 rescue from the first outrage of the kind which ever assailed 
 me." 
 
 By the time that a few more complimentary words on 
 her side, and a modest reply from Thaddeus, had passed, 
 they stopped before a house in Grosvenor Place.* The lady 
 knocked at the door ; and, as soon as it was opened, the 
 Count was taking his leave, but she laid her hand on his 
 arm, and exclaimed, 
 
 " No, sir ; I must not lose the opportunity of convincing 
 you, that you have not succoured a person unworthy of 
 your kindness. I entreat you to walk in !" 
 
 Thaddeus was too much pleased with her manner not to 
 accept this invitation. He followed her up stairs into a. 
 drawing-room, where a young lady was seated at work. 
 
 " Miss Egerton," cried his conductress, " here is a gentle- 
 
 * All this local scenery is cliangcil. There is no turnpike gate now at the 
 Hyde Park end of Piccadilly ; neither is tliere a park wall: splendid railings 
 occupy its place; and two superb triumjihal arches, in the fashion of France, 
 one leading into the Park, anil the other lea<ling into — nothing ! gorgeously fill 
 the sites of the former ]>lain, wayfaring, KngHsli turnpike lodges. We cannot, 
 however we may admire fine architecture, but find something appalling in novel 
 uplcndours of the kind ; for history has ever sliown that nations are simi)lest 
 while they are tlic greatest ; — like beautiful women, who need no ornaments ; 
 but as vanity increases, and the natural charms wane, they put on decorations 
 to hide the decay, " to which complexion, alas.' all must come at last."
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 1 C5 
 
 man who has this moment saved me from a ruffian. You 
 must assist me to express my gratitude." 
 
 " I would with all my heart," returned she ; " but your 
 Ladyship confers benefits so well^ you cannot be at a loss 
 how to receive them." 
 
 Thaddeus took the chair which a servant set for him, and 
 with mingled pleasure and admiration turned his eyes on 
 the lovely woman he had rescued. She threw off her cloak 
 and veil, and displayed a figure and countenance full of 
 dignity and interest. 
 
 She begged him to lay aside his great-coat^ as she must 
 insist upon his supping with her. There was a command- 
 ing softness in her manner, and a gentle, yet unappealable, 
 decision in her voice, he could not withstand ; and he pre- 
 pared to obey, although he was aware the fashion and rich- 
 ness of the military dress concealed under his coat, would 
 give her ideas of his situation it could not answer. 
 
 The lady did not notice his hesitation, but, ringing the 
 bell, desired the servant to take the gentleman's hat and 
 coat. Thaddeus instantly saw in the looks of both the 
 ladies what he feared. 
 
 " I perceive," said the elder, as she took her seat, " that 
 my deUverer is in the army ; yet I do not recollect having 
 seen that uniform before." 
 
 " I am not an Englishman," returned he. 
 
 " Not an Englishman," exclaimed Miss Egerton, " and 
 speak the language so accurately ! You cannot be French }" 
 
 " No, madam ; I had the honour of serving under the 
 king of Poland." 
 
 " Then, his was a very gallant court, I suppose," rejoined 
 ]\Iiss Egerton, with a smile ; " for I am sorry to say, there 
 are few about St. James's who woidd have taken the trouble 
 to do what you have done by Lady Tinemouth." 
 
 He returned the young lady's smile. " I have seen too 
 little, madam, of Englishmen of rank, to show any gallantry 
 in defending this part of my sex against so fair an accuser." 
 Indeed, he recollected the officers in the Park, and the per- 
 fidy of Somerset, and thought he had no reason to give 
 them more respect than their countrywoman. 
 
 " Come, come, Maria," cried Lady Tinemouth ; " though 
 M 3
 
 166 
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 no woman has less cause to speak well of mankind than I 
 have, I will not permit my countrymen to be run down in 
 toto. I dare say this gentleman will agree with me, that it 
 shows neither a candid nor a patriotic spirit." 
 
 " I dare say he will not agree with you. Lady Tinemouth. 
 No gentleman yet, who had his wits about him, ever agreed 
 with an elder lady against a younger. Now, gentleman ! 
 for it seems that is the name by which we are to address 
 you, what do you say ? " 
 
 Thaddeus almost laughed at the singular way she had 
 chosen to ask his name ; and, aUowing some of the gloom 
 which generally obscured his fine eyes to disperse, he 
 answered with a smile — 
 
 '' My name is Constantino." 
 
 " WeU, you have replied to my last question first ; but 
 I will not let you off about my bearish countrymen. Don't 
 you think, Mr. Constantino, I may call them so, without any 
 breach of good manners to them, or duty to my country } 
 For you see her Ladyship hangs much upon patriotism ? " 
 
 Lady Tinemouth shook her head. 
 
 " O Maria, Maria, you are a strange mad-cap." 
 
 " I don't care for that ; I will have Mr. Constantino's 
 unprejudiced reply. I am sure, if he had taken as long a 
 time in answering your call, as he does mine, the ruffian 
 might have killed and eaten you too, before he moved to your 
 assistance. Come, sir, may I not say they are bears, or 
 growling mastiffs, or any thing but well-bred men .'' " 
 
 " Certainly. A pretty woman may say any thing." 
 
 " Positively, Mr. Constantino, I won't endure contempt! 
 Say such another Avord, and I will call you as abominable 
 an animal as the worst of them." 
 
 " But I am not a proper judge. Miss Egerton. I have 
 never been in company with any of these men ; so, to be 
 impartial, I must suspend my opinion." 
 
 " And not believe my word !" 
 
 Thaddeus bowed. 
 
 " There, Lady Tinemouth," cried she, affecting pet, 
 " take your champion to yourself; he is too great a savage 
 for mc." 
 
 " Thank you, Maria," returned her Ladyship, giving
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 1 67 
 
 her hand to the Count to lead her to the supper-room ; 
 " This is the way she quarrels with every man that comes 
 into my house, and then her ill humour transforms them to 
 its own likeness." 
 
 " And where is the man," observed Thaddeus, " who 
 would not be happy under the spells of so charming a 
 Circe ? " 
 
 " It won't do, Mr. Constantine," cried she, taking her 
 place opposite to him ; " my anger is not to be appeased by 
 calling me names; you don't mend the matter by likening 
 me to a heathen and a witch." 
 
 Lady Tinemouth bore her part in the conversation, in a 
 strain more in unison with the Count's mind. However, 
 he found no inconsiderable degree of amusement from the 
 unreflecting volubility, and giddy sallies, of her friend ; and, 
 on the whole, spent the few hours he passed there with 
 some perceptions of his almost forgotten sense of pleasure. 
 
 He was in an elegant apartment, he was in the company 
 of two lovely and accomplished women, and he was the object 
 of their entire attention and gratitude. He had been used 
 to this in his days of happiness, when he was " the expect^ 
 ancy and rose of the fair state, the glass of fashion, and the 
 mould of form, the observed of all observers ;" and the re- 
 appearance of such a scene awakened with tender remem- 
 brances an associating sensibility which made him rise with 
 regret when the clock struck one. 
 
 Lady Tinemouth bade him good night, with an earnest 
 request he would shortly repeat his visit ; and they parted, 
 mutually delighted with each other. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Pleased as the Count was with the acquaintance to which 
 his gallantry had introduced him, he did not repeat his 
 visit for a long time. 
 
 A few mornings after his meeting with Lady Tinemouth, 
 the hard frost broke up. The change in the atmosphere 
 produced so alarming a relapse of the General's rheumatic 
 M 4
 
 168 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 fever, that his friend watched by his pillow ten days and 
 nights. At the end of this period he recovered sufficiently 
 to sit up and read ; or to amuse himself by registering the 
 melancholy events of the last campaigns in a large book, 
 and illustrating it with plans of the battles. The sight of 
 this volume would have distressed Thaddeus, had he not 
 seen that it afforded comfort to the poor veteran, whom it 
 transported back into scenes on which he delighted to 
 dwell ; yet, he would often lay down his pen, shut the 
 book, and weep like an infant. 
 
 The Count left him one morning at this employment, 
 and strolled out with the intention of calling on Lady 
 Tinemouth. As he walked along by Burlington House he 
 perceived Pembroke Somerset, with a gentleman on his 
 arm, approaching from Bond Street. 
 
 All the blood in the Count's body seemed rushing to his 
 heart. He trembled. The ingenuous smile on his friend's 
 countenance, and his features so sweetly marked with 
 frankness, made his resolution falter. 
 
 " But proofs," cried he to himself, " are absolute !" and 
 turning his face to a stand of books which was near him, 
 he stood there until Somerset had passed. He went by 
 liim speaking these words — 
 
 " I trust, father, that ingratitude is not his vice." 
 
 " But it is yours, Somerset ! " murmured Thaddeus, as 
 for a moment he gazed after them, and then proceeded on 
 his walk. 
 
 When his name was announced at Lady Tinemouth's 
 he found her with another lady, but not Miss Egerton. 
 Lady Tinemouth expressed her pleasure at this visit, and 
 her surprise that it had been so long deferred. 
 
 " The pain of such an apparent neglect of your Lady- 
 ship's goodness," replied he, " has been added to my 
 anxiety for the declining health of a friend, whose increased 
 illness is my apology." 
 
 *' I wish," returned her Ladyship, her eyes beaming ap- 
 probation, " that all my friends could excuse their absence 
 so well ! " 
 
 " Perhaps they miglit if they chose," observed the other 
 ady, " and with eq.ual sincerity."
 
 THADDEUS OF WAKSAW. 1^9 
 
 Thaddeus understood the incredulity couched under these 
 words. So did Lady Tinemouth. 
 
 " However, rejoined she, " be satisfied, Mr. Constan- 
 tine, that I beUeve you." 
 
 The Count bowed. 
 
 " Fie, Lady Tinemouth!" cried the lady, "you are 
 partial ; nay, you are absurd ; did you ever yet hear a man 
 speak truth to a woman ? " 
 
 " Lady Sara ! " replied her Ladyship, with one of those 
 arch glances which seldom visited her eyes, *' where wiU 
 be your vanity if I assent to this ? " 
 
 " In the moon, with man's sincerity." 
 
 Thaddeus paid little attention to this dialogue. His 
 thoughts, in spite of himself, were wandering after the 
 figures of Somerset and his father. 
 
 Lady Tinemouth, whose fancy had not been quiet about 
 him, since the hour in which chance introduced him to her 
 acquaintance, observed his present absence without noticing 
 it. Indeed, the fruitful imagination of Maria Egerton had 
 not lain still. She declared, " he was a soldier by his 
 dress ; a man of rank from his manners ; an Apollo in 
 his person ; and a hero from his gallantry ! " 
 . Thus did Miss Egerton describe him to Lady Sara Roos ; 
 " and," added she, " what convinces me he is a man of 
 fashion, he has not been within these walls since we told 
 him we should take it as a favour." 
 
 Lady Sara was eager to see this handsome stranger. 
 Having previously determined to droj) in at Lady Tine- 
 mouth's every morning until her curiosity was gratified, 
 she was not a little pleased when she heard his name an- 
 nounced. 
 
 Lady Sara was married ; but she was young and beau- 
 tiful also, and she liked that her power should be acknow- 
 ledged by others besides her husband. The instant she 
 beheld the Count Sobieski, she formed the wish to entangle 
 him in her chains. She learnt by his pale countenance and 
 tlioughtful air, that he was a melancholy character ; and 
 above all things, she sighed for such a lover. She ex- 
 pected to receive from one of his cast a tenderness, a 
 dcvotedness ; in short, a fervent, wild, and romantic pas-
 
 170 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 siorij which would feed on her sighs and its own fires to 
 eternity. Thaddeus appeared to her to be the very crea- 
 ture of whom she had been in search. — His abstraction, 
 his voice and eyes, the one so touching, the other so neg- 
 lectful of any thing but the ground, were irresistible ; and 
 she resolved from that moment (in her own words) " to 
 make a dead set at him." 
 
 Not less pleased with this second view of her new ac- 
 quaintance, than she had been at the first. Lady Tine- 
 mouth directed her discourse to him, accompanied by all 
 that winning interest so endearing to a liberal heart. Lady 
 Sara never augured well to the success of her fascinations, 
 when the Countess addressed any of her victims ; and 
 therefore she now tried every means in her power to draw 
 aside the attention of the Count. She played with her 
 Ladyship's dog ; but that not succeeding, she determined 
 to strike him at once with the elegance of her figure. 
 Complaining of heat, she threw off" her large green velvet 
 mantle ; and rising from her chair, walked towards the 
 window. 
 
 When she looked round to enjoy her victory, she saw 
 that this manoeuvre had failed like the rest; for the pro- 
 voking Countess was still standing between her and Thad- 
 deus. Almost angry, she flung open the sash, and putting 
 her head out of the window, exclaimed in her best modu- 
 lated tones — 
 
 " How d'ye do ? " 
 
 " I hope your Ladyship is well this fine morning ! " 
 was answered in the voice of Pembroke Somerset. 
 
 Thaddeus grew pale, and the Countess feeling the cold, 
 turned round to ask Lady Sara to whom she was speaking. 
 
 " To a pest of mine, my dear," returned she ; and then, 
 stretching out her neck, she resumed, " But where, in the 
 name of Heaven, Mr. Somerset, are you driving with all 
 that travelling apparatus ? " 
 
 " To Deerhurst : I am going to take Lord Arun down. 
 But I keep your Ladyship in the cold. Good morning." 
 
 "My compliments to Sir Robert. Good-by ! good-by!" 
 and waving her white hand until his curricle was out of 
 sight ; when she turned round, her desires were gratified,
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 171 
 
 for the elegant stranger was standing with his eyes fixed on 
 that hand. But, had she known, that for any cognisance 
 they took of its beauty, they might as well have been fixed 
 on vacancy, she would not have pulled down the window 
 and reseated herself with such an air of triumph. 
 
 The Count took his seat with a sigh, and Lady Tine- 
 mouth did the same. 
 
 " So, that is the son of Sir Robert Somerset ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Lady Sara ; " and what does your Lady- 
 ship think of him } He is called very handsome." 
 
 " You forget that I am near-sighted," answered the 
 Countess ; " I could not discriminate his features, but I 
 think his figure fine. I remember his father was a hand- 
 some man, and celebrated for taste and talents." 
 
 " That may be," resumed Lady Sara, laughing, and 
 anxious to excite some emotion of rivalry in the breast of 
 Thaddeus. " I am sure I ought not to call in question his 
 talents and taste, for he has often wished that fate had 
 reserved me for his son." Her Ladyship sighed, and looked 
 down. 
 
 This sigh and gesture had more efFect upon her victim 
 than all her exhibited graces. So difficult it is to break 
 affection and habit. Any thing relating to Pembroke 
 Somerset could yet so powerfully interest the Count, as to 
 stamp itself on his features. Besides, the appearance of any 
 latent disquietude, where all seemed splendour and vivacity, 
 painfully reminded him of the chequered lot of man. His 
 eyes were resting upon her Ladyship, full of a tender com- 
 miseration, pregnant with compassion for her, himself, and 
 all the world, when she raised her head. The meeting of 
 such a look from him filled her with agitation. She felt 
 something strange at her heart. His eyes seemed to have 
 penetrated to its inmost devices. Blushing like scarlet, she 
 got up to hide an embarrassment not to be subdued ; and 
 hastily wishing the Countess a good morning, courtesied to 
 him and left the room. 
 
 Her Ladyship entered the carriage with feelings all in 
 commotion. She could not account for the confusion which 
 his look had occasioned ; and half angry at a weakness so 
 like a raw inexperienced girl, she determined to become one
 
 172 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 of Lady Tinemouth's constant visitors^ until she should 
 have brought him (as she had done most of the men in her 
 circle) to her feet. 
 
 These were her Ladyship's resolutions as she rolled along 
 towards St. James's Place. But she a little exceeded the 
 fact in her statement ; for notwithstanding she could have 
 counted as many lovers as most women, yet few of them 
 would have ventured the consequence of a kneeling petition. 
 In spite of her maiden charms, these worthy lords and 
 gentlemen had, to a man, adopted the oracle of the poet — 
 
 " Love, free as air, at sight of human ties, 
 Spreads his light wings, and in a moment flies!" 
 
 They all professed to adore Lady Sara ; some were caught 
 by her beauty, others by her eclat, but none had the most 
 distant wish to make this beauty and eclat his own legal 
 property. 
 
 The young Marquis of Severn fluttered round her Lady- 
 ship during the first year of his appearance at court ; but at 
 the end of that time, instead of offering her his hand, he 
 married the daughter of a rich banker. 
 
 Lady Sara was so incensed at this intelligence, that to 
 show her disdain of her apostate lover, she set off the same 
 evening for Scotland with Harry Roos, a grandson of the 
 Duke of Lincoln. They were married ; and her Ladyship 
 had the triumph of being presented to her Majesty the 
 same day with the Marchioness of Severn. 
 
 When the whirlwind of her resentment subsided, she 
 began most dismally to repent her union. She loved Cap- 
 tain Roos as little as she had loved Lord Severn. She had 
 admired the rank and gallantry of the one ; and the pro- 
 found adoration of the other had made a friend of her 
 vanity. IJut now that her revenge was gratified, and the 
 homage of Harry Roos ceased to excite the envy of her com- 
 panions ; from the hour in which he became her husband 
 she grew weary of his attentions ; and was rejoiced when 
 the Admiralty ordered him to take the command of a ship 
 bound to the Mediterranean. 
 
 The last fervent kiss which lie imprinted on her lips, as 
 they breathed out the cold " Good-by, Roos ; take care of
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 173 
 
 yourself ! " seemed to her the seal of freedom ; and she 
 returned into her dressing-room, not to weep, but to exult 
 in the prospect of a thousand festivities and a thousand 
 lovers. 
 
 Left at an early age without a mother, and ignorant of 
 the duties of a wife, she thought, that if she kept her hus- 
 band and herself out of Doctors' Commons, she should do 
 no harm by amusing lierself with the heart of every man 
 who came in her way. Thus, she hardly moved without a 
 train of admirers. She had already attracted every one she 
 deemed worthy of the trouble ; and had listened to their 
 compliments and insolent presumptions, until she was 
 wearied of both. In this juncture of ennui, Miss Egerton 
 related to her the Countess's rencontre with the gallant 
 foreigner. 
 
 As soon as she heard he was of rank (for ?»Iiss Egerton 
 was not backward to affirm the dreams of her own imagin- 
 ation), she formed a wish to see him ; and when to her 
 infinite satisfaction he did present himself, in her eyes he 
 exceeded every thing that had been described. To secure 
 such a conquest, she thought would not only raise the envy 
 of the women, but put the men on the alert to discover 
 some novel and attractive way of proving their devotion. 
 
 Whilst Lady Sara was meditating on her new plans, the 
 Count and Lady Tinemouth remained alone. Her Lady- 
 ship talked to him on various subjects ; but he answered ill 
 upon them all, and sometimes very wide of the matter. At 
 last, conscious that he must be burdensome, he arose, and 
 looking paler and more depressed than when he entered, 
 wished her a good morning. 
 
 " I fim afraid, Mr. Constantine, you are unwell." 
 
 Like most people who desire to hide what is passing in 
 their minds, Thaddeus gladly assented to this, as an excuse 
 for a taciturnity he could not overcome. 
 
 " Then," cried her Ladyship, " I hope you will favour 
 me with your card, that I may know where to send to 
 enquire after your health." 
 
 Thaddeus was confounded for a moment ; then, return- 
 ing into the room, he took up a pen, which lay on the table, 
 and said —
 
 174 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " I will write my address to a place where any of your 
 Ladyship's commands may reach me ; but I will do myself 
 the honour to repeat my call very soon. 
 
 " I shall always be happy to see you," replied the Coun- 
 tess, while he was writing ; " but before I engage you in a 
 promise of which you may afterwards repent, I must tell 
 you, that you will meet with dull entertainment at my 
 house. I see very Uttle company ; and were it not for the 
 inexhaustible spirits of IVIiss Egerton, I beUeve I should be- 
 come a complete misanthrope." 
 
 " Your house will be my paradise ! " exclaimed the 
 Count, with an earnestness, to the force of which he did 
 not immediately attend. 
 
 Lady Tinemouth smiled. 
 
 " I must warn you here, too," cried she. " Miss Eger- 
 ton must not be the deity of your paradise. She is already 
 under engagements." 
 
 Thaddeus blushed at being mistaken, and wished to 
 explain himself. 
 
 " You misunderstand me, madam. I am not insensible 
 to beauty ; but upon my word, at that moment I had nothing 
 else in my thoughts, than gratitude for yoiu: Ladyship's 
 kindness to an absolute stranger." 
 
 " That is true, Mr. Constantine, you are an absolute 
 stranger, if the want of a formal introduction, and an igno- 
 rance of your family, constitute that title. But your pro- 
 tection introduced you to me ; and there is something in 
 your appearance which convinces me that I need not be 
 afraid of admitting you into the very scanty number of my 
 friends." 
 
 Thaddeus perceived the delicacy of Lady Tinemouth, 
 who wished to know who he was, and yet was unwilling to 
 give him pain by a question so direct that he must answer 
 it. As she now proposed it, she left him entirely to his own 
 discretion ; and he determined to satisfy her very proper 
 curiosity, as far as he could, without exposing his real name 
 and circumstances. 
 
 The Countess, whose benevolent heart was deeply inter- 
 ested in his favour, observed the changes of his countenance
 
 TBADDEUS OF WARSAW. 175 
 
 with an anxious hope that he would be ingenuous. Iler 
 solicitude did not arise from any doubts of his quality and 
 worth, but she wished to be enabled to reply with promptness 
 to the inquisitive people who might see him at her house. 
 
 " 1 hardly know," said Thaddeus, " in what words to 
 express my sense of your Ladyship's generous confidence 
 in me ; and that my character is not undeserving of such 
 distinction, time, 1 trust, will prove." lie paused for a 
 moment, and then resumed : " For my rank. Lady Tine- 
 mouth, it is now of little consequence to my comfort ; 
 
 rather, perhaps, a source of mortification ; for " he 
 
 hesitated, and then proceeded with a faint colour tinging 
 liis cheek, " exiles from their country, if they would not 
 covet misery, must learn to forget ; hence 1 am no other 
 than Mr. Constantine ; though, in acknowledgment of your 
 Ladyship's goodness, I deem it only just that I should not 
 conceal my real quality from you. 
 
 '' My family was one of the first in Poland. Even in 
 banishment, the remembrance that its virtues were as well 
 known as its name, affords some alleviation to the conviction, 
 that, when my country fell, all my property and all my 
 kindred were involved in the ruin. Soon after the dreadful 
 seaUng of its fate, 1 quitted it; and, by the command of a 
 dying parent who expired in my arms, sought a refuge in 
 this island, from degradations which, otherwise, I could 
 neither repel nor avoid." 
 
 Thaddeus stopped ; and the Countess, struck by the 
 graceful modesty with which this simple account was related, 
 laid her hand upon his. 
 
 " Mr. Constantine, I am not surprised at what you liave 
 said. The melancholy of your air induced me to suspect 
 that you were not happy ; and my sole wish in penetrating 
 your reserve was to show you that a woman can be a sin- 
 cere friend." 
 
 Tears of gratitude glistened in the Count's eyes. Inca- 
 pable of making a suitable reply, he pressed her hand to his 
 lips. She rose ; and, wiUing to relieve a sensibility that 
 delighted her, added, " I will not detain you longer ; only 
 let me see you soon,"
 
 176' THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 Thaddeus uttered a few inarticulate words, whose signi- 
 ficancy conveyed nothing, but every thing was declared by 
 their confusion. The Countess's eloquent smile showed 
 that she comprehended their meaning; and he left the 
 room. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 On the Count's return home, he found General Butzou in 
 better spirits, still poring over his journal. This book 
 seemed to be the representative of all which had ever been 
 dear to him. He dwelt upon it, and talked about it, with 
 a doating eagerness bordering on insanity. 
 
 These symptoms increasing from day to day, gave his 
 young friend considerable uneasiness. He listened with 
 pain to the fond dreams which took possession of the poor 
 old man ; who delighted in saying, that much might yet be 
 done in Poland when he should be recovered, and they be 
 enabled to return together to Warsaw, and stimulate the 
 people to resume their rights. 
 
 Thaddeus at first attempted to prove the emptiness of 
 these schemes ; but, seeing that contradiction on this head 
 threw the General into deejier despondency, he thought it 
 better to affect the same sentiments ; too well perceiving 
 tliat death would soon terminate these visions with the ve- 
 nerable dreamer's life. 
 
 ' Accordingly, as far as lay in the Count's power, he sa- 
 tisfied all the fancied wants of his revered friend, who, on 
 every other subject, was perfectly reasonable ; but at last 
 he became so absorbed in this chimerical plot, that even 
 conversation, and his meals, seemed to oppi-ess him with 
 restraint. 
 
 AVhen Thaddeus perceived that his company was rather 
 irksome than a comfort to his friend, he the more readily 
 repeated his visits to Lady Tinemouth. She now looked 
 for his entrance at least once a day. If ever a morning and
 
 THADDErS OF WARSAW. 177 
 
 an evening passed away without his appearance, he was siu-e 
 of being scolded by INIiss Egerton, reproached by the Coun- 
 tess, and frowned at by Lady Sara Roos. In defiance of 
 all other engagements, this lady contrived to drop in every 
 night at Lady Tinemouth's. Her Ladyship was not more 
 surprised at this sudden attachment of Lady Sara to Jier 
 house, than pleased with her society, who, she found, could 
 lay aside that tissue of affectation and fashion which she 
 wore in public, and really become a charming woman. 
 
 Though Lady Sara was vain, she was mistress of suf- 
 ficient sense to penetrate with tolerable certainty into the 
 characters of her acquaintance. Most of the men with whom 
 she had hitherto associated, having lived from youth to 
 manhood amongst those fashionable assemblies, where in- 
 dividuality is absorbed in the general mass of insipidity, she 
 saw they were frivolous ; or, at the best, warped in taste 
 and principle ; and the fascinations she called forth to sub- 
 due them were suited to their capacity, — her beauty, her 
 thoughtlessness, and her caprice. But, on the reverse, when 
 she formed the wish to entangle such a man as Thaddeus, 
 she soon discovered that to engage his attention she must 
 appear in the unaffected graces of nature. To this end she 
 took pains to display the loveliness of her form in every 
 movement and position ; yet she managed the action with 
 so inartificial and frank an air, that she seemed the only 
 person present who was unconscious of the versatility and 
 power of her charms. She conversed with good sense and 
 propriety. In short, she appeared completely different from 
 the gay ridiculous creature he had seen some weeks before 
 in the Countess's parlour. 
 
 He now admired both her person and her mind. Her 
 winning softness, the vivacity of Miss Egerton, and the 
 kindness of the Countess, beguiled him many an evening 
 from the contemplation of melancholy scenes at home. 
 
 One night it came into the head of Maria Egerton to 
 banter him about his military dress. " Do, for Heaven's 
 sake, my dear Don Quixote," cried she, " let us see you 
 out of your rusty armour ! I declare I am tired of the 
 sight. And I cannot but think you would be merrier out 
 of that customary suit of solemn black !" 
 
 N
 
 ITS THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 This demand was not pleasing to the Count ; but he 
 good-humouredly replied, " I knew not, till you were so 
 kind as to inform me, that a man's temper depends on his 
 clothes." 
 
 " Else, I suppose," crietl she, interrupting him, " ycu 
 would have changed yours before ? Therefore, I expect 
 you wiU do as I bid you now, and put on a Christian's 
 coat against you next enter this house." 
 
 Thaddeus was at a loss what to say ; he only bowed ; 
 and the Countess and Lady Sara smiled at her nonsense. 
 
 ^Vlien they parted for the night, this part of the convers- 
 ation passed off from all minds but that of Lady Tine- 
 mouth. She had considered the subject, but in a different 
 way from Maria. INIaria supposed that the handsome 
 Constantino wore the dress of his country because it was 
 the most becoming. But as such a whim did not corre- 
 spond with the other parts of his character. Lady Tine, 
 mouth, in her own mind, attributed this adherence to his 
 national habit to the right cause. 
 
 She remarked that whenever she wished him to meet 
 any agreeable people at her house, he always decUned these 
 introductions under the plea of his ckess, though he never 
 proposed to alter it. This conduct, added to his silence on 
 every subject which related to the public amusements 
 about town, led her to conclude that, like the banished no- 
 bility of France, he was encountering the various inconve- 
 niences of poverty in a foreign land. She hoped that he 
 had escaped its horrors ; but she could not be certain, for 
 he always shifted the conversation when it too closely re- 
 ferred to himself. 
 
 These observations haunted the mind of Lady Tine- 
 mouth, and made her anxious to contrive some opportunity 
 in which she might have this interesting Constantino 
 alone ; and by a proper management of the discourse, lead 
 to some avowal of his real situation. Hitherto her bene- 
 volent intentions had been frustrated by various interrup- 
 tions, at various times. Lideed, had she been actuated 
 by mere curiosity, she would long ago have resigned the 
 attempt as fruitless ; but pity and esteem kept her watchful 
 until the very hour in which her considerate heart was 
 fully satisfied.
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 179 
 
 One morning when she was writing in her cabinet, a 
 a servant informed her ; that Mr. C'onstantine was below. 
 Pleased at this circumstance, she took advantage of a slight 
 cold that affected her; and hoping to draw something out 
 of him in the course of a ttte-d-tete, begged he would 
 come to her room. 
 
 AVhen he entered, she perceived that he looked more 
 pensive than usual. He sat down by her, and expresse<l 
 his concern at her indisposition. She sighed heavily, but 
 remained silent. Her thoughts were too much occupied 
 with her benevolent plan, to immediately form a reply. 
 She had determined to give him a cursory idea of her own 
 unhappiness ; and thus, by her confidence, attract his. 
 
 " I hope Miss Egerton is well ? " enquired he. 
 
 " Very well, Mr. Constantine. A heart at ease almost 
 ever keeps the body in health. May she long continue as 
 happy as at this period, and never know the disappointments 
 of her friend ! " 
 
 He looked at the Countess. 
 
 " It is true, my dear sir," continued she. " It is 
 hardly probable that the mere effect of thirty-seven years 
 could have made the inroads on my person which you see : 
 but sorrow has done it ; and, with all the comforts you be- 
 hold around me, I am miserable. I have no joy independ- 
 ent of the few friends which Heaven has preserved to me ; 
 and yet," added she, " I have another anxiety united with 
 those of which I complain ; some of my friends, who af- 
 ford me the consolation I mention, deny me the only 
 return in my power, the office of sharing their griefs." 
 
 Thaddeus understood the expression of her Ladyship's 
 eye, and the tenderness of her voice, as she uttered these 
 words. He saw to whom the kind reproach was directed, 
 and he looked down confused and oppressed. 
 
 The Countess resumed. 
 
 " I cannot deny, what your countenance declares ; you 
 think I mean you. I do, Mr. Constantine. I have 
 marked your melancholy ; I have weighed other circum- 
 stances ; and 1 am sure that you have many things to 
 struggle with, besides the regrets which must ever hang 
 about the bosom of a brave man who has witnessed the
 
 180 TUADDEIS OF WARSAW. 
 
 destruction of his country. — Forgive me, if I give you 
 pain, (added she, observing his heightening colour,) I 
 speak from real esteem ; I speak to you, as I would to my 
 own son, were he in your situation." 
 
 " j\Iy dearest madam ! " cried he, overcome by her be- 
 nevolence, " you have judged rightly ; I have many 
 things to struggle with ; I have a sick friend at home, 
 whom misfortune hath nearly bereft of reason ; and whose 
 wants are now so complicated and expensive, that never 
 till now did I know the complete desolation of a man with- 
 out a country or a profession. For myself. Lady Tine- 
 mouth, adversity has few pangs ; but for my friend, for an 
 old man, whose deranged faculties have forgotten the 
 change in my affairs ; he who leans on me for support and 
 comfort ; it is this that must account to your Ladyship for 
 those inconsistencies in my manner and spirits, which are 
 so frequently the subject of Miss Egerton's raillery." 
 
 Thaddeus, in the course of this short and rapid narrative, 
 gradually lowered the tone of his voice ; and at the close 
 covered his face with his hand. He had never before con- 
 fided the history of his embarrassments to any creature ; 
 and he thought (notAvithstanding the Countess's solicit- 
 ations) he had committed an outrage on the firmness of 
 his character, by having in any way acknowledged the 
 weight of his calamities. 
 
 Lady Tinemoutli considered a few minutes, and then 
 addressed him. 
 
 " I should ill repay this generous confidence, my young 
 friend, were I to hesitate a moment in forming some plan 
 which may prove of service to you. You have told me no 
 more, dear Mr. Constantine, than I suspected. And I had 
 something in view." — Here the Countess stopped, expect- 
 ing that her auditor would interrupt her. He remained 
 silent, and she proceeded ; '■' You spoke of a profession, of 
 an employment." 
 
 " Y es, madam," returned he, taking his hand from his 
 eyes ; " I should be glad to engage in any profession or 
 employment you would recommend." 
 
 " I have little interest," answered her Ladyship, " with 
 people in power ; therefore I cannot propose any thing
 
 TiiADDEus OF w.vnpA^r. ] 8 1 
 
 which will in any degree suit with your rank ; but the 
 enijiloyment that I have in view, several of the most illus- 
 trious French nobility have not disdained to execute." 
 
 " Do not fear to mention it to me," cried the Count, 
 perceiving her reluctance ; " I would attempt any thing 
 that is not dishonourable, to render service to my poor 
 friend." 
 
 " "V\'ell, then, would you have any objection to teach 
 languages ? " 
 
 Thaddeus immediately answered, — " None in the 
 world." 
 
 " Then," replied she, greatly relieved by the manner in 
 which he received her proposal ; " I will now tell you^ 
 that about a week ago I paid a visit to Lady Dundas, the 
 widow of Sir Hector Dundas, the rich East Indian Director. 
 Whilst I was there, I heard her talking with her two 
 daughters about finding a proper master to teach them 
 German. That language has become a very fashionable 
 accomplishment amongst literary ladies ; and Miss Dundas, 
 being a member of the Blue-stocking Club*, declared her 
 resolution to make a new translation of Werter. Lady 
 Dundas made a thousand objections against the vidgarity 
 of various teachers whom the young ladies proposed, and 
 ended with saying, that unless some German gcrdlenian 
 could be found, they must remain ignorant of the language. 
 Your image instantly shot across my mind ; and deeming 
 it a favourable opportunity, I told her Ladyship, that if 
 she could wait a few days I would sound a friend of mine, 
 who, I knew, if he would condescend to take the trouble, 
 must be the most eligible person imaginable. Lady Dun- 
 das and the girls gladly left the affair to me, and I now 
 propose it to you." 
 
 " And I," replied he, " with a thousand thanks, accept 
 the task." 
 
 " Then I will make the usual arrangements," returned 
 her Ladyship, " and send you the result." 
 
 After half an hour's farther conversation. Lady Tine- 
 
 * Such was the real name given at the time to Mrs. Montague's celebrated 
 itcrary parties, held at her house in Portman Square. The late venerable Sir 
 William Pepys was one of their last survivors. 
 N 3
 
 182 THADDEI'S OF WARSA\r. 
 
 mouth became more impressed with the unsophisticated 
 delicacy and dignity of the Count's mind ; and he, more 
 grateful than utterance could declare, left his respects for 
 ]Miss Egerton, and took his leave. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Next morning, whilst Thaddeus was vainly explaining to 
 the General that he no longer possessed a regiment of horse, 
 which the poor old man wanted him to order out, to try 
 the success of some manoeuvres he had been devising, little 
 Nanny brought in a letter from Slaughter's coffee-house, 
 whither he had desired Lady Tinemouth to direct to him. 
 He opened it, and found these contents : — 
 
 '■'■ My dear Sir, 
 
 " So anxious was I to terminate the affair with Lady 
 Dundas, that I went to her house last night. I affirmed 
 it as a great obligation, that you would undertake the 
 trouble to teach her daughters ; and I insist that you do 
 not, from any romantic ideas of candour, invalidate what 
 I have said : I know the world too well not to be convinced 
 of the truth of Dr. Goldsmith's maxim, — ' If yon be poor, 
 do not seem poor, if you would avoid insult as well as suf- 
 fering.' 
 
 " I told Miss Dundas, you had undertaken the task 
 solely at my persuasion ; and that I could not propose 
 other terms than a guinea for two lessons. She is rich 
 enough for any expense, and made no objection to my de- 
 mand ; besides, she presented the enclosed by way of en- 
 trance-money. Thus, I have settled all preliminaries, and 
 you are to commence your first lesson on Monday, at two 
 o'clock. — But, before then, pray let me see you. 
 
 " Cannot you dine with us on Sunday ? I have in- 
 formed Miss Egerton of as much of the affair as I think 
 necessary to account for your new occupation. In short, 
 good girl as she is, I thought it most prudent to set her 
 and Lady Sara on the same scent I have done the Dun- 
 dases ; therefore, do not be uneasy on that head.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 183 
 
 " Come to-morrow, if not before, and you will give real 
 pleasure to your sincere friend, 
 
 " Adeliza Tinemouth. 
 
 "Saturday Morning, Grosvenor Place." 
 
 Truly grateful to the active frendship of the Countess, 
 and looking at the General, who ai)peared perfectly happy 
 in the prosecution of his wild schemes, Thaddeus inwardly 
 exclaimed, "^ By these means, I shall at least have it in my 
 power to procure the assistance which your melancholy 
 state requires." 
 
 On opening the enclosed, which her Ladyship mentioned, 
 he found it to be a bank note for ten pounds. Both the 
 present and its amount gave him pain : not having done 
 any service to earn it, he regarded the money more as a 
 gift than as a bond of engagement. However, he found 
 that this delicacy, with many other painful repugnances, 
 must at this moment be laid aside ; and, without farther 
 self-torment, he consigned the money to the use for which 
 he was aware the Countess had intended it, namely, to 
 provide himself with an English dress. 
 
 During these various reflections he did not leave Lady 
 Tinemouth's letter unanswered. He thanked her sincerely 
 for her zeal ; but declined dining with her the next day, 
 on account of leaving his poor friend so long alone ; though 
 he promised to come in the evening when he should be 
 retired to rest. 
 
 This excuse was regretted by none more than Lady Sara 
 Rcos ; Avho, having heard from Lady Tinemouth that she 
 expected Mr. Constantine to dinner on Sunday, invited 
 herself to be one of the party. She had now seen him 
 constantly for nearly a month ; and found, to her amaze- 
 ment, that in seeking to entrap him, she only had ensnared 
 herself. Every word he utteretl penetrated to her heart ; 
 every glance of his eyes shook her frame like electricity. 
 She had now no necessity to affect softness ; a young and 
 seducing passion imparted to her voice and countenance 
 all its bewitching pathos. 
 
 Thaddeus was not insensible to the enchantment which 
 this intoxicating power threw around her ; but it did not 
 N 4
 
 184) THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 reach as far as she intended. He confessed that she was 
 a lovely woman, who might have affected his senses had 
 she been free, and his heart been as in happier days. He 
 knew that she was a married woman ; and, as he believed 
 her to be a virtuous one^ he could not credit the evidence 
 of his observations, which would often have whispered to 
 him the language her Ladyship wished to convey. 
 
 When Lady Tinemouth mentioned to Lady Sara and 
 Miss Egerton the great favour she had conferred on the 
 Miss Dundases, by prevaiUng on Mr. Constantine to un- 
 dertake the task of teaching them German, Lady Sai-a could 
 hardly conceal her vexation. She was angry at the Count 
 for his acquiescence, and hated Lady Tinemouth for having 
 made the proposal. 
 
 Miss Egerton laughed at the scrape into which Lady 
 Tinemouth had brought his good nature ; and declared 
 she would tell him next day, at dinner, what a ravdish 
 pair of Misses he had presumed to manage. 
 
 It was the youngest of these Misses that excited Lady 
 Sara's displeasure. Euphemia Dundas was very pretty ; 
 she had a large fortune at her tUsposal ; and what might 
 not such united temptations effect on the mind of a man 
 exposed, every day, to her habitual flirtation .'' Torn with 
 jealousy. Lady Sara caught at the mention of his coming 
 to dinner on the morrow ; and offering to be one of the 
 party, resolved to make one more essay on his hitherto in- 
 sensible soul, before she beheld him enter scenes so Ukely 
 to extinguish her hopes. — Hopes of what.'' She never 
 allowed herself to enquire. She knew that she never had 
 loved her husband, that now she hated him, and was de- 
 voted to another. To be assuretl of a reciprocal passion 
 from that other, she believed was the extent of her wish. 
 Thinking that she held her husband's honour safe as her 
 life, she determined to do what she liked with her heart. 
 Her former admirers were now neglected ; and, to the 
 astonishment and admiration of the graver part of her ac- 
 quaintance, she relinquished all the assemblies in which 
 she had so recently been the brightest attraction, to seclude 
 herself by the domestic fire-side of the Countess of Tine- 
 mouth.
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 185 
 
 Thus, whilst the world were admiring a conduct they 
 supposed would give a lasting happiness to herself and to 
 her husband, she was cherishing a passion which might 
 prove the destruction of both. 
 
 On Sunday evening Thaddeus entered Lady Tinemouth's 
 drawing-room just as Miss Egerton seated herself before 
 the tea equipage. At sight of him she nodded her head, 
 and called him to sit by her. Lady Tinemouth returned 
 the grateful pressure of his hand. Lady Sara received him 
 with a palpitating heart, and stooped to remove something 
 that seemed to incommode her foot ; but it Avas only a 
 feint, to hide the blushes which were burning on her cheek. 
 No one observed her confusion. So common it is for those 
 who are the constant witnesses of our actions to be the 
 most ignorant of their expression and tendency. 
 
 Thaddeus could not be so uninformed. The frequent 
 falling of her eye when it met his, the unequivocal inton- 
 ation of her voice, and sometimes the framing of her speech, 
 often alarmed his sensibility, and made him retreat into 
 himself. He gladly obeyed a second summons from the 
 gay Maria, and drew his chair close to hers. 
 
 Lady Sara observed his motions with a jealous pang she 
 could not conceal ; and pulling her seat as far on the op- 
 posite side as possible, began in silence to sip her tea. 
 
 " Ye powers of gallantry!" suddenly exclaimed Miss 
 Egerton, pushing away the table, and lifting her eye-glass 
 to her eye, " I declare I have conquered ! Look, Lady 
 Tinemouth ; look. Lady Sara ! If ]\Ir. Constantine does 
 not better become this English dress than his Polish horri- 
 bles, drown me for a false prophetess ! " 
 
 " You see I have obeyed you, i\Iadam," returned Thad- 
 deus, bowing. 
 
 '' Ah ! you are in the right. Most men do that cheer- 
 fully, when they know they gain by the bargain. Now, 
 you look like a Christian ; before, you always reminded 
 me of some stalking hero in tragedy." 
 
 " Yes," cried Lady Sara, forcing a smile, " and now he 
 exhibits a striking resemblance to George Barnwell." 
 
 Maria, who did not perceive the sarcasm couched under 
 this remark^ good-humouredly repUed —
 
 186 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 " May be so, Lady Sara ; but I don't care for his being 
 in black : obedience was the thing I wanted, and I have it 
 in his present appearance." 
 
 " Pray, Lady Tinemouth," asked her Ladyship, seeking 
 to revenge herself on his alacrity to obey Miss Egerton, 
 " what o'clock is it ? I have promised to be at Lady 
 Sai'um's concert by nine." 
 
 " It is not eight," returned the Countess ; " besides this 
 is the first time I have heard of your engagement. I 
 hoped you would have spent all this evening with us." 
 
 " No," answered Lady Sara, " I cannot." And ringing 
 the bell, she rcsa. 
 
 " Bless me. Lady Sara ! " cried Miss Egerton, " you are 
 not going? Don't you hear that it is only eight o'clock?" 
 
 Busying herself in tying her cloak. Lady Sara affected 
 not to hear her, and told the servant who opened the door 
 to order her carriage. 
 
 Surprised at this precipitation, but far from guessing the 
 cause. Lady Tinemouth requested Sobieski to see her Lady- 
 ship down stairs. 
 
 " I would rather not," cried she in a quick voice ; and 
 darting out of the room was followed by Thaddeus, who 
 came up with her just as she reached the street door. He 
 hastened to assist her into the carriage, and saw by the 
 light of the flambeaux her face streaming with tears. He 
 had already extended his hand, when, instead of accepting 
 it, she pushed it from her, and jumped into the carriage, 
 crying in an indignant tone, '' To Berkeley Square." He 
 remained for a few minutes looking after her ; then re- 
 turned into the house, too well able to translate the mean- 
 ing of all this petulance. 
 
 AFhen he re-ascended the stairs. Lady Tinemouth ex- 
 pressed her wonder at the whimsical departure of her 
 friend ; but, as Thaddeus (who was really disturbed) re- 
 turned a vague reply, the subject ended. 
 
 ]\Iiss Egerton, who hardly thought two minutes on the 
 same thing, sent away the tea-board ; and, sitting down by 
 the Count, exclaimed, — 
 
 " Mr. Constantinc, I hold it right that no man should be 
 thrown into a den of wild beasts, without knowing wliat
 
 THADDEVS OF WARSAW. 1 87 
 
 kind of monsters he shall meet there. Hence, as I find 
 you have undertaken the taming of that ursa major Lady 
 Dundas, and her pretty cubs, I must give you a tasto of 
 their quality. — M'ill you liear me .'' " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Will you attend to my advice ? " 
 
 "If I hke it." 
 
 " Ha !" replied she, returning his smile with another; 
 " that is just such an answer as I would have made my- 
 self, so I won't quarrel with you. Lady Tinemouth, you 
 will allow me to draw your friends' pictures ? " 
 
 " Yes, Maria, provided you don't make them caricatures. 
 Remember, your candour is at stake ; to-morrow, Mr. 
 Constantine will judge for himself." 
 
 " And I am sure he will agree with me. Now, Lady 
 Dundas, if you please ? I know your Ladysliip is a great 
 stickler for precedence." 
 
 Lady Tinemouth laughed, and interrupted her — 
 
 " I declare, Maria, you are a very daring girl. What 
 do you not risk by giving way to this satirical spirit .'' " 
 
 " Not any body's love that I value. Lady Tinemouth ; 
 you know that I never daub a /h/r character ; Mr. Con- 
 tantine takes me on your credit ; and if you mean Charles 
 Montresor, he is as bad as myself, and dare not for his 
 life have any qualms." 
 
 " WeW, well, proceed," cried her Ladyship ; " I will 
 not interrupt you again." 
 
 " Then," resumed she, " I must begin with Lady Dun- 
 das. In proper historical style, I shall commence with her 
 birth, parentage, and education. For the first, my father 
 told me, he remembers her when she was the maid of 
 Chief Justice Sefton's wife at Surat. Soon after her arrival 
 there, this pretty Abigail by some means cajoled old Hec- 
 tor Dundas (who was then governor of the province) to 
 marry her. When she returned in triumph to England, 
 she coaxed her foolish husband to appropriate some of his 
 ill-gotten riches to the purchase of a baronetage. I sup- 
 pose the appellation JUi-strcsfi, put her in mind of her ct- 
 devant servantship ; and in a happy hour he complied, and 
 she became My Lady. That over^ Sir Hector had nothing
 
 188 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 more to do in this world. He was so good as to think so 
 liimself : and, to add to former obligations, had the civility 
 to walk out of it ; for one night, whether he had been 
 dreaming of his feats in India, or of a review on the plat- 
 form at Newgate, I cannot affirm, but he marched out of 
 his bed-room window and broke his neck. Ever since that 
 fortunate event. Lady Dundas has exhibited the finest 
 parties in town. Every body goes to see her ; but whether 
 in compliment to their own taste, or to her silver muslins, 
 I don't know ; for there are half-a-dozen titled ladies of 
 her acquaintance, who, to my certain knowledge, have not 
 bought a ball-dress this twelvemonth. Well, how do you 
 like Lady Dundas ? " 
 
 '' I do not hke your sketch," replied Thaddeus, with an 
 unconcious sigh. 
 
 " Come, don't sigh about my veracity," interrupted Miss 
 Egerton ; " I do assure you, I should have been more cor- 
 rect had I been more severe ; for her Indian Ladyship is as 
 ill-natured as she is vulgar, and as presumptuous as igno- 
 rant ; in short, she is a fit mother for the delectable Miss 
 Dundas, whose description you shall have in two questions. 
 Can you imagine Socrates in his wife's petticoats ? Can 
 you imagine a pedant, a scold, and a coquette, in one 
 woman ? If you can, you have a foretaste of Diana 
 Dundas. She is large and ugly, and tliinks herself delicate 
 and handsome ; she is self-willed and ignorant, and believes 
 herself wise and learned ; and, to sum up all, she is the 
 most malicious creature breathing." 
 
 " My dear Maria," cried Lady Tinemouth, alarmed at 
 the effect such high colouring might have on the mind of 
 Thaddeus ; " for Heaven's sake be temperate ! I never 
 heard you so unbecomingly harsh in my life." 
 
 Miss Egerton peeped archly in her face. 
 
 " Are you serious. Lady Tinemouth ? You know that 
 I would not look unbecoming in your eyes. Come, shake 
 hands with me, anil I will be more merciful to the gentle 
 Euphemia, for I intend that Mr. Constantine shall be her 
 lover. Won't you ? " cried she, resigning her Ladyship's 
 hand. Thaddeus shook his head. " I don't understand 
 your Lord Burleigh nods ; answer me in words^ when I
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAVT. 189 
 
 have finished ; for I am sure you will immediately unclasp 
 your heart to receive the sweet creature. She is so tiny and 
 so jiretty, that I never see her without thinking of some 
 gay little trinket, all over precious stones. Her eyes are 
 two diamond sparks, melted into lustre ; and her teeth, 
 seed pearl, lying between rubies. So much for the casket ; 
 but for the quahty of the jewel within, I leave you to make 
 the discovery." 
 
 Miss Egerton having run herself out of breath, suddenly 
 stopped. Seeing that he was called upon to say something, 
 Thaddeus made an answer which only drew upon him a new 
 volley of raillery. Lady Tinemouth tried to avert it, but 
 she failed ; and ]\Iaria continued talking with very little in- 
 terruption until the party separated for the night. 
 
 CHAPTER. XXII. 
 
 Now that the Count thought himself secure of the means of 
 payment, he sent for a physician, to consult him respecting 
 the state of the General. "When Dr. Cavendish saw and 
 conversed with the venerable Butzou, he gave it as his opi- 
 nion that his malady had originated in grief. 
 
 " I can too well suppose it," replied Thaddeus. 
 
 " Then," rejoined the physician, " 1 fear, sir, that un- 
 less I know something of its cause^ my visits wUl prove al- 
 most useless." 
 
 The Count was silent. The Doctor resumed — 
 
 " I shall be grieved if his sorrows be of too delicate a 
 nature to be trusted with a man of honour ; for in these 
 cases, unless we have some knowledge of the springs of the 
 derangement, we lose time, and perhaps entirely fail of a 
 cure. Our discipline is addressed, both to the body and the 
 mind of the patient." 
 
 Thaddeus perceived the necessity of compliance, and did 
 so without farther hesitation. 
 
 " The calamities, sir, which have occasioned the disorder 
 of ray friend need not be any secret ; too many have shared
 
 190 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 them with him ; his sorrows have been pubUc ones. You 
 must have learnt by his language. Dr. Cavendish, that he 
 is a foreigner and a soldier. He held the rank of General 
 in the King of Poland's service. Since the period in which 
 his country fell, his wandering senses have approximated to 
 what you see." 
 
 Dr. Cavendish paused for a moment before he answered 
 the Count ; then fixing his eyes on the veteran, who was 
 sitting at the other end of the room constructing the model 
 of a fortified town, he said — 
 
 " All that we can do at present, sir, is to permit him 
 to follow his schemes without contradiction ; meanwhile 
 strengthening his system with proper medicines, and lull- 
 ing its irritation by gentle opiates. V^'e must proceed cau- 
 tiously, and I trust in Heaven, success wiU crown us at 
 last." 
 
 "VVTien the Doctor had written his prescription and was 
 preparing to go, Thaddeus offered him his fee ; but the 
 good Cavendish, taking the hand that presented it, and 
 closing it on the guinea, " No, my dear sir," said he, 
 " real patriotism is too much the idol of my heart, to allow 
 me to receive payment when I behold her face. Suffer me, 
 Mr. Constantine, to visit you and your brave friend as a 
 friend, or I never come again." 
 
 " Sir, this generous conduct to strangers ! " 
 
 " Generous to myself, Mr. Constantine, and not to stran- 
 gers ; I cannot consider you as such ; for men who devote 
 themselves to their country must find a brother in every 
 honest breast. I wiU not hear of our meeting on any other 
 terms." * 
 
 Thaddeus could not immediately form a reply adequate 
 to the sentiment which the generous philanthropy of the 
 Doctor awakened. 'Whilst he stood incapable of speaking. 
 Cavendish, with one glance of his penetrating eye, deci- 
 phered his countenance ; and, giving him a friendly shake 
 by the hand, disappeared. 
 
 The Count took up his hat ; and musing all the way he 
 
 * This generous man is no fictitious character ; the original being Dr. Black, 
 burue, late of Cavcntlish-si]uare, but who has been long retired from his pro- 
 fession, passing a revered old age in the beautiful neighbourhood of our old 
 British classic scenes, the Abbey of Glastonbury.
 
 THADDEVS OK WARSAW. IQl 
 
 went on the unexpected scenes we meet in life ; disappoint- 
 ment where we expected kindness ; and friendship where 
 no hope could arise ; he arrived at the door of Lady Dun- 
 das, in Harley Street. 
 
 He was instantly let in, and with much ceremony ushered 
 into a splendid library, where, he was told, the ladies would 
 attend him. Before they entered, they allowed him time 
 to examine its costly furniture, its glittering book-cases, 
 bird-cages, globes, and reading-stands, all shining with 
 burnished gilding ; its plaster casts of the nine muses, 
 which stood in nine recesses about the room, draperied with 
 blue net looped up with artificial roses ; and its fine cut- 
 steel Grecian stove, on each side of which was placed, on 
 sandal-wood pedestals, two five-feet statues of Apollo and 
 Minerva. 
 
 Thaddeus had twice walkeil round these fopperies of 
 learning, when the door opened and Lady Dundas, dressed 
 in a morning-wrapper of Indian shawls, waddled into the 
 apartment. She neither bowed nor courtesied to the Count, 
 who was standing when she entered, but looking at him 
 from head to foot, said as she passed, " So you are come ; " 
 and ringing the bell, called to the servant in no very soft 
 tones, " TeU Miss Dundas tlie person Lady Tinemouth 
 spoke of is here." Her Ladyship then sat down in one of the 
 little gilded chairs, leaving Thaddeus stUl standing on the 
 spot where he had bowed to her entrance. 
 
 " You may sit down," cried she, stirring the fire, and 
 not deigning to look at him; " for my daughter may not 
 choose to come this half hour." 
 
 " I prefer standing," replied the Count, who could have 
 laughed at the accuracy of Miss Egerton's picture, had he 
 not prognosticated many disagreeables to himself from the 
 lU manners of which this w^as a specimen. 
 
 Lady Dundas took no farther notice of him. Turning 
 from her bloated countenance, (which pride, as well as high 
 eating, had swollen from prettiness to deformity,) he walked 
 to a window, and stationed himself there, looking into the 
 street, until the door was again opened, and two ladies made 
 their appearance.
 
 192 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " Miss Dundas," cried her Ladyship, " here is the 
 young man that is to teach you German." 
 
 Thaddeus bowed ; the younger of the ladies courtesied ; 
 and so did the other, not forgetting to accompany such con- 
 descension with a toss of the head, that the effect of undue 
 humility might be done way. 
 
 Whilst a servant was setting chairs round a table on 
 whi,ch was painted the Judgment of Hercules, Lady Dun- 
 das again opened her lips. 
 
 " Pray, Mr. Thinginnbob, have you brought any gram- 
 mars, and primers, and dictionaries, and syntaxes, with 
 you } " 
 
 Before he had time to reply in the negative. Miss Dun- 
 das interrupted her mother. 
 
 " I wish, Madam, you would leave the arrangement of 
 my studies to myself. Does your Ladyship think we would 
 learn out of any book which has been touched by other 
 people ? " Thomas," cried she to a servant, " send Ste- 
 phens hither." 
 
 Thaddeus silently contemplated this strange mother and 
 daughter, whilst the pretty Euphemia paid the same com- 
 pliment to him. During his stay he ventured to look once 
 only, at her Sylphid figure. There was an unreceding some- 
 thing in her liquid blue eyes, when he chanced to meet them, 
 which displeased him ; and he could not help seeing, that 
 from the instant she entered the room, she had never ceased 
 staring in his face. 
 
 He was a little relieved by the maid putting the books 
 on the table ; and Miss Dundas, taking a seat, desired him 
 to sit down by her and arrange the lessons. Lady Dundas 
 was drawing to the other side of Thaddeus, when Euphe- 
 mia suddenly whisking round, pushed before her mother, 
 and exclaimed — 
 
 " De<ar mamma ! you don't want to learn ! " and squeezed 
 herself upon the edge of her mother's chair ; who, very 
 angrily getting up, declared that rudeness to a parent was 
 intolerable from such well-bred young women, and left 
 the room. 
 
 Euphemia blushed at the reproof, more than at her con-
 
 THADDECS OP WARSAW. 1,93 
 
 duct ; and Miss Dundas added to her confusion by giving 
 her a second reprimand. Thaddeus pitied the evident em- 
 barrassment of the little beauty, and to relieve her,, presented 
 the page in the German grammar with which they were to 
 begin. This had the desired effect ; and for an hour and 
 a half they prosecuted their studies with close attention. 
 
 AVhilst the Count continued his directions to her sister^ 
 and then turned his address to herself. Miss Euphemia, 
 whoUy unseen by him, with a bent head was affecting to 
 hear him ; though at the same time she looked obliquely 
 through her thick flaxen ringlets, and gazing with wonder 
 and admiration on his face as it inclined towards her, said 
 to herself, "If this man were a gentleman, I should think 
 hira the most charming creature in the world." 
 
 " WiU your task be too long. Madam ? " enquired Thad- 
 deus ; " will it give you any inconvenience to remember } " 
 
 " To remember what ? " asked she, for in truth she had 
 neither seen what he had been pointing at, nor heard what 
 he had been saying. 
 
 " The lesson^ madam, 1 have just been proposing." 
 
 " Show it to me again, and then I shaU be a better judge." 
 
 He did as he was desired ; and was taking his leave, 
 when she called after him, 
 
 " Pray, Mr. Constantino, come to-morrow at two. I 
 want you particularly." 
 
 The Count bowed and withdrew. 
 
 " And what do you want with him to-morrow, child ? " 
 asked Miss Dundas ; " you are not accustomed to be so fond 
 of improvement." 
 
 Eujihemia knew very well what she was accustomed to 
 be fond of ; but not choosing to let her austere sister into 
 her predilection for the contemplation of superior beauty, 
 she merely answered, " You know, Diana, you often re- 
 proach me for my absurd devotion to novel reading, and my 
 repugnance to graver books ; now I want at once to be hke 
 you, a woman of great erudition ; and for that purpose I 
 will study day and night at the German, tiU I can read all 
 the philosophers, and be a fit companion for my sister," 
 
 This speech from Euphemia, (who had always been so 
 declared an enemy to pedantry, as to affirm she learnt Ger- 
 

 
 194 THADDEUS OF TTARSA^. 
 
 man merely because it was the fashion,) would have awak- 
 ened JNIiss Dundas to some suspicion of a covert design, had 
 she not been in the habit of taking down such large draughts 
 of adulation, that whenever herself was the subject, she gave 
 it fuU confidence. Euphemia seldom administered these 
 doses but to serve particular views ; and seeing in the pre- 
 sent case that a little flattery was necessary, she felt no com- 
 punction in sacrificing sincerity to the gratification of caprice. 
 Weak in understanding, she had fed on works of imagin- 
 ation, until her mind loathed all other kind of food. Not 
 content with devouring the elegant pages of Mackenzie, 
 RadclifFe, and Lee, she flew with voracious appetite to sate 
 herself on the garbage of any circulating library that fell in 
 her way. 
 
 The effects of such a taste were exhibited in her manners. 
 Being very pretty, she became very sentimental. She dressed 
 like a wood nymph ; and talked, as if her soul were made 
 up of love and sorrow. Neither of these emotions she had 
 reaUy ever felt ; but, in idea, was always the victim of some 
 iU-fated passion ; at least she fancied herself, at tUfferent 
 periods, in love with all the fine men about town. 
 
 By this management, she kept faithful to her favoiu-ite 
 principle, that " love was a want of her soul/" As it was 
 the rule of her life, it ever trembled on her tongue ; ever 
 introduced the confession of any new attachment, which 
 usually happened three times a year, to her dear friend Miss 
 Arabella Rothes. Fortunately for the longevity of their 
 mutual friendship, this young lady hved in an ancient house, 
 forty miles to the north of London. Tliis latter circum- 
 stance proved a jiretty distress for their pens to descant on ; 
 and Arabella remained a most charming sentimental writing 
 stock, to receive the catalogue of JNIiss Euphemia's lovers ; 
 indeed that gentle creature might have matched every lady 
 in Cowley's calendar with a gentleman. Every throb of 
 her heart could have acknowledged a different master. First, 
 the fashionable sloven Augustus Somers lounged and saun- 
 tered himself into her good graces ; but his dishevelled hair, 
 soiled linen, and dirty great coat, not exactly meeting her 
 ideas of an elegant lover, she gave him up at the end of 
 three weeks. The next object her eyes feU upon, as most
 
 THADDEirS OF WARSAW. 195 
 
 opposite to her former fancy, was tlie charming Marquis of 
 Inverary. But here all her arrows failed, for she never 
 could extract from him more than a hoiv d'ye do ? through 
 the long lapse of four months ; during Avhich time she 
 continued as constant to his fine figure, and her own folly, 
 as could have fallen to the lot of any poor despairing dam- 
 sel. However, my Lord was so cruel, so perfidious, as to 
 allow several opportunities to pass, in which he might have 
 declared his passion ; and she told AraheUa in a letter of 
 six sheets, she would bear it no longer. 
 
 She put this wise resolution in practice ; and had already 
 played the same game with half a score, (the last of whom 
 was a young guardsman, who had just rode into her heart, 
 by managing his steed with the air of an Alexander one 
 day in Hyde Park,) when Thaddeus made his appearance 
 before her. 
 
 The moment she fixed her eyes on him, her inflammable 
 imagination was set in a blaze. She forgot his apparent 
 subordinate quaUty in the nobleness of his figiu-e ; and 
 once or twice that evening, while she was flitting about the 
 sparkling cynosm-e of the Duchess of Orkney's masquerade, 
 her thoughts hovered over the handsome foreigner. 
 
 She viewed the subject first one way and then another, 
 and, in her ever- varying mind, " he was every thing by 
 turns, find nothing long ;" but at length she argued herself 
 into a belief that he must be a man of rank from some of 
 the German courts, who having seen her somewhere un- 
 known to herself, had fallen in love ; and persuaded Lady 
 Tinemouth to introduce him as a language-master to her 
 family, that he might be enabled to appreciate the disin- 
 terestedness of her disposition. 
 
 This wild idea having once gotten into her head, re- 
 received instant credence. She resolved, without seeming 
 to suspect it, to treat him as his quality deserved, and to 
 dehver sentiments in his hearing which should charm him 
 with their dehcacy and generosity. 
 
 With these chimeras floating in her brain, she returned 
 home, went to bed, and dreamed that ^Ir. Constantine had 
 turned out to be Monsieur, had offered her his hand, and
 
 ipS THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 that she was conducted to the altar hy a train of princes 
 and princesses^ his brothers and sisters. 
 
 She awoke the next morning from these deliriums^ in an 
 ecstasy, deeming them prophetic ; and, taking up her hook, 
 began, with a fluttering attention, to scan the lesson which 
 Thaddeus had desired her to learn. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 The following day at noon, as the Count Sobieski was 
 crossing Cavendish Square to keep his appointment in 
 Harley Street, he was met by Lady Sara Roos. She had 
 spoken with the Miss Dundases the night before at the 
 masquerade; where discovering the pretty Euphemia through 
 the dress of Eloisa, her jealous and incensed heart could 
 not withstand the temptation of hinting at the captivating 
 Abelard she had elected to direct her studies. Her Ladyship 
 soon penetrated into the situation of Euphemia's heated 
 fancy ; and drew from her, without betraying herself, that 
 she expected to see her master the following day. Stung 
 to the soul. Lady Sara quitted the rooms ; and in a pa- 
 roxysm of disappointment, determined to throw herself in 
 his way as he went to her rival's house. 
 
 ^Vith this hope, she had aheady been traversing the 
 square upwards of an hour, when her anxious eye at last 
 caught a view of his figure proceeding along jMargaret 
 Street. HariUy able to support her tottering frame, shaken 
 as it was with contending emotions, she accosted him first ; 
 for he was passing straight onwards, without looking to the 
 right or the left. On seeing her Ladyship, he stopped, and 
 exjiressed his pleasure at the meeting. 
 
 " If you 7'eal/i/ are pleased to meet me," said she, forcing 
 a smile, " take a turn with me romid the square. I want 
 to speak with you." 
 
 Thaddeus bowed, and she put her arm through his, but 
 remained silent for a few minutes, in evident confusion.
 
 THADDEUS OF \rAnSAW. 197 
 
 The Count recollected it must now be quite two. He knew 
 the awkwanhiess of making the Misses Dundas wait ; and 
 notwithstanding his reluctance to appear impatient with 
 Lady Sara^ he found himself obliged to say — 
 
 " I am sorry I must urge your Ladyship to honour me 
 with your commands, for it is already past the time when 
 I ought to have been with the Miss Dundases." 
 
 " Yes," cried Lady Sara angrily, " Miss Eujihemia told 
 me as much ; but, Mr. Constantino, as a friend, I must 
 warn you against her arts, as well as against those of 
 another lady, who would do well to correct the boldness of 
 her manner." 
 
 " "Whom do you mean, madam?" interrogated Thaddeus, 
 surprised at her warmth, and totally at a loss to conjecture 
 to whom she alluded. 
 
 " A little reflection would answer you," returned she, 
 wishing to retreat from an explanation, yet stimulated by 
 her double jealousy to proceed : she may be a good girl, 
 Mr. Constantino, and I dare say she is ; but a woman Avho 
 has promised her hand to another ought not to flirt with 
 you. "NVhat business had Miss Egerton to command you 
 to wear an English dress ? But she must now see the 
 danger of her conduct, by your having presumed to obey 
 her." 
 
 " Lady Sara ! " exclaimed the Count, much hurt at this 
 speech, " I hardly understand you ; yet I believe I may 
 venture to affirm, that in all which you have just now said, 
 you are mistaken. "\rho can witness the general frankness 
 of Miss Egerton, or listen to the candid manner with 
 which she avows her attachment to Mr. iMontresor, and 
 conceive that she possesses any thoughts which would not 
 do her honour to reveal ? And for myself," added he, 
 lowering the tone of his voice, " I trust, the least of my 
 faults is presumption. It never was my character to pre- 
 sume on any lady's condescension ; and if dressing as she 
 desired be deemed an instance of that kind, I can declare, 
 upon my word, had I not found other motives besides her 
 raillery, my appearance should not have suffered a change." 
 
 " Are you sincere, Air. Constantino } " cried Lady Sara, 
 now smiUng with pleasure. 
 
 o 3
 
 198 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 " Indeed I am, and happy, if my explanation have met 
 with your Ladyship's approbation." 
 
 " Mr. Constantine/' resumed she, " I have no motive 
 but one, in my discourse with you, friendship." And, 
 casting her eyes down, she sighed profoundly. 
 
 " Your Ladyship does me honour." 
 
 " I would have you regard me with the same confidence 
 that you do Lady Tinemouth. My father possesses the 
 first patronage in this country ; I therefore have it a thou- 
 sand times more in my power than she has, to render you 
 a service." 
 
 Here her Ladyship overshot herself : she had not calcu- 
 lated well on the nature of the mind she wished to ensnare. 
 
 " I am grateful to your generosity," rephed Thaddeus ; 
 " but on this head I must decline your kind offices. Whilst 
 I consider myself the subject of one King, though he be in 
 a prison, I will not accept of any employment under an- 
 other who is in alliance with his enemies." 
 
 Lady Sara discovered her error the moment he had 
 made his answer ; and, in a disappointed tone, exclaimed, 
 " Then you despise my friendship ! " 
 
 " No, Lady Sara ; it is an honour far beyond my 
 merits ; and my gratitude to Lady Tinemouth must be 
 doubled, when I recoUect that I possess it through her 
 means." 
 
 " Well," cried her Ladyship, " have that as you will ; 
 but I expect, as a specimen of your confidence in me, you 
 will be wary of Euphemia Dundas. I know she is artful 
 and vain ; she finds amusement in attracting the affections 
 of men ; and then, notwithstanding her affected sensibiUty, 
 she turns them into a subject for laughter." 
 
 " I thank your Ladyship," replied the Count ; " but in 
 tliis respect, I think I am safe, both from the lady and 
 myself." 
 
 " IIow," asked Lady Sara, rather too eagerly, " is your 
 heart ? " — She paused, and looked down. 
 
 ''No, madam," replied he, sighing as deeply as herself; 
 but with his thoughts far from her, and the object of their 
 discourse ; " I have no place in my heart to give to love. 
 Besides, the quality in which I appear at Lady Dundas's
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 199 
 
 would preclude the vainest man alive from supposing that 
 such behaviour from any lady there to him could be pos- 
 sible. Therefore, 1 am safe ; though I acknowledge my 
 obligation to your Ladyship's caution." 
 
 Lady Sara was satisfied Avith the first part of this an- 
 swer. It declared that his heart was unoccupied ; and, as 
 he had accepted her proffered friendship, she doubted not, 
 when assisted by more frequent displays of her fascinations, 
 she could destroy its lambent nature ; and, in the end, 
 light up in his bosom a similar fire to that which consumed 
 her own. 
 
 The almost unconscious object of all these desires began 
 internally to accuse his vanity of being too fanciful in the 
 formation of suspicions, which on a former occasion he had 
 believed himself forced to admit ; and blushing at a quick- 
 ness of perception, his contrition nominated a weakness, he 
 found liimself at the bottom of Harley Street. 
 
 Lady Sara called her servant to walk nearer to her ; and, 
 telling Thaddeus she should expect him the next evening 
 at Lady Tinemouth's, wished him good morning. 
 
 He was certain that he must have stayed at least half an 
 hour beyond the time wdien he had promised to be with the 
 sisters. Anticipating very haughty looks, and perhaps a 
 reprimand, he knocked at the door, and was again shown 
 into the library. Miss Euphemia was alone. 
 
 He offered some indistinct excuse for having made her 
 wait ; but Euphemia, with good-humoured alacrity, inter- 
 rupted him. 
 
 " O pray, don't mind ; you have made nobody wait but 
 me, and I can easily forgive it ; for mamma and my sister 
 chose to go out at one, it being May-day, to see the chimney- 
 sweepers dine at Mrs. Montague's.* They did as they liked ; 
 and I preferred staying at home to repeat my lesson." 
 
 Thaddeus, thanking her for her indulgence, sat down, and 
 
 * This was a gay spectacle, and a most kind act to those poor children, who 
 thus once a yenr found themselves refreshed and happy. They resorted to the 
 green court-yard of Mrs. Montague's house every May-<iay, at about one o'clock, 
 dressed in their gala wreaths, and sporting with Iheir brushes and shovels; 
 where they found a good dinner, kind words from their hostess and her guests, 
 and each little sweep received a shilling at parting. On the death of Mrs. 
 -Montague, this humane and pleasurable spectacle ceased. 
 
 4
 
 200 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 taking the book, began to question her. Not one word 
 coukl she recollect. She smiled. 
 
 " I am afraid, madam, you have never thought of it 
 since yesterday morning." 
 
 " Indeed I have thought of nothing else ; you must for- 
 give me ; I am very stupid, IMr. Constantine, at learning 
 languages ; and German is so harsh — at least to my ears ! 
 Cannot you teach me any other thing ? I should like to learn 
 of you of all things, but do think of something else besides 
 this odious jargon ! Cannot you teach me to read poetry ele- 
 gantly? Shakspeare, for instance; I doat upon Shakspeare!" 
 
 " That would be strange presumption in a foreigner." 
 
 " No presumption in the least," cried she ; " if you can 
 do it, pray begin ! there is Romeo and Juliet." 
 
 Thaddeus pushed away the book Avith a smile. 
 
 " I cannot do it. I understand him with as much ease 
 as you, madam, will soon do German, if you apply ; but I 
 cannot pretend to read liim aloud." 
 
 " Dear me, how vexatious ! — but I must hear you read 
 something. Do, take up that Werter. My sister got it 
 from the Prussian ambassador, and he tells me it is sweetest 
 in its own language." 
 
 The Count opened the book. ^ 
 
 " But you will not understand a word of it." 
 
 " I don't care for that ; I have it by heart in English ; and 
 if you will only read his last letter to Charlotte, I know I 
 can follow you in my own mind." 
 
 To please this whimsical little creature, Thaddeus turned 
 to the letter, and read it forward with the pathos natural to 
 his voice and character. When he came to an end, and 
 closed the volume, the cadence of his tones, and the lady's 
 memory, did ample justice to her sensibility. She looked 
 up, and smiling through her watery eyes, which glittered 
 like violets wet with dew, drew out her perfumed handker- 
 chief, and wiping them, said — 
 
 " I thank you, jMr. Constantine. You see, by this ir- 
 repressible emotion, that I feel Goethie, and did not ask you 
 a vain favour." 
 
 Thaddeus bowed ; for he was at a loss to guess what 
 kind of a reply could be expected by so strange a creature.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 201 
 
 She continued — 
 
 " You are a German^ Mr. Constantlne. Did you ever 
 see Charlotte ? " 
 
 " Never, madam." 
 
 " I am sorry for that ; I should have liked to have heard 
 what sort of a beauty she was. But, don't you think she 
 behaved cruelly to AV erter ? Perhaps you knew him ? " 
 
 " No, madam ; this lamentable story happened before. I 
 was born." 
 
 " How unhapjiy for him ! I am sure you would have 
 made the most charming friends in the world ! Have you a 
 friend, i\Ir. Constantine ? " 
 
 The Count looked at her with surprise. She laughed at 
 the expression of his countenance. 
 
 " 1 don't mean such friends as one's father, mother, 
 sisters, and relations ; most people have enough of them. I 
 mean a tender, confiding friend, to whom you unbosom all 
 your secrets; who is your other self, a second soul! In short, 
 a creature in whose existence you forget your own !" 
 
 Thaddeus followed with his eyes the heightened colour 
 of the fair enthusiast ; who, accompanying her rhapsody 
 with action expressive as her words, had to repeat her 
 question, " Have you such a friend?" before he found re- 
 collection to answer her in the negative. 
 
 The Count, who never had been used to such extravagant 
 behaviour in a woman, would have regarded Miss Euphemia 
 Dundas as little better than insane, had he not been pre- 
 pared by Miss Egerton's description ; and he now acquiesced 
 in the young lady's desire, to detain him another hour ; half 
 amused, and half wearied, with her aimless and wild fancies. 
 But here he was mistaken, her fancies were not aimless ; 
 his heart was the game she had in view ; and she deter- 
 mined a desperate attack should make it her own, in return 
 for the deep wounds she had received from every tone of his 
 voice, whilst reading the SorroAvs of AV^erter.
 
 202 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Thaddeus spent near a fortnight in the constant exercise 
 of his occupations. In the mornings^ until two, he pre- 
 pared those drawings, by the sale of which he was em- 
 powered to pay the good Mrs. Robson for her care of his 
 friend. And he hoped, when the ladies in Harley Street 
 should think it time to defray any part of their now large 
 debt to him, he might be enabled to liquidate the very long 
 biU of his friend's apothecary. But the Misses Dundas 
 possessed too much money to think of its utility ; they 
 used it as counters ; for they had no conception that to 
 other people it was the purchaser of almost every comfort. 
 Their comforts came so certainly, they supposed they grew 
 of necessity out of their situation ; and that their great 
 wealth owned no other commission, than to give splenilid 
 parties, and buy fine things. Their golden shower being 
 exhaled by the same vanity by which it had been shed, 
 they as little regarded its tlispersion as they had marked its 
 faU. 
 
 Hence, these amiable ladies never once recollected that 
 their master ought to receive some weightier remuneration 
 for his visits, than the honour of paying them ; and as poets 
 say the highest honours are achieved by suffering, so these 
 two sisters, though in different ways, seemed resolved that 
 Thaddeus should purchase his distinction with adequate 
 pains. 
 
 Notwithstanding that Miss Dundas continued very remiss 
 in her lessons, she unrelentingly required the Count's at- 
 tendance ; and sometimes, not in the most gentle language, 
 reproached him for a backwardness she owed entirely to her 
 own inattention and stupidity. The fair Diana would have 
 been the most learned woman in the world, could she have 
 found any fine-lady path to the temple of science ; but the 
 goddess who presides there being only to be won by arduous
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 203 
 
 climbing, poor Miss Diindas, like the indolent monarch wlio 
 made the same demand of the philosophers, was obliged to 
 lay the fault of her own slippery feet on the weakness of her 
 conductors. 
 
 As Thaddeus despised her most heartily, he bore ill hu- 
 mour from that quarter with unshaken equanimity. But 
 the pretty Eupheniia was not so easily managed. She had 
 now completely given up her fanciful soul to this prince in 
 tlisguise ; and already began to act a thousand extrava- 
 gancies. AVithout suspecting the object, Diana soon dis- 
 covered that her sister was in one of her love fits. Indeed 
 she cared nothing about it ; and leaving her to pursue the 
 passion as she liked, poor Euphemia, according to her custom 
 when labouring under this whimsical malady, addicted her- 
 self to solitude. This romantic taste she generally indulged, 
 by taking her footman to the gate of the green in Cavendish 
 Square, where he stood until she had performed a pensive 
 saunter up and down the walk. After this, she retui-ned, 
 adjusted her hair in the ^Madona fashion, (because the Count 
 had one day admired the female head in a Holy Family, by 
 Guido, over the chimney-piece,) and then seating herself in 
 some becoming attitude, usually waited with her eyes con- 
 stantly turning to the door until the object of these devices 
 presented himself. She impatiently watched all his motions 
 and looks, whilst he attended to her sister ; and the moment 
 he was done, ran over her own lessons with great volubility, 
 but little attention. Her task finished, she shut the books, 
 and employed the remainder of the time in translating a 
 number of little mottoes into German, which she composed 
 for boxes, baskets, and other frippery. 
 
 One day, when the Count, as usual, was tired to death 
 with making common sense out of so much nonsense, Eu- 
 phemia observed that Diana was at the other end of the 
 l"00m with the Honourable Mr. Lascelles. To give an eclat 
 to her new studies. Miss Dundas had lately opened her 
 library door to morning visitors ; and seeing her sister thus 
 engaged, Euphemia thought she might do what she wished 
 without detection, and hastily drawing a folded paper from 
 her pocket, she desired Thaddeus to take it home, and 
 translate it into the laneruaffe he liked best.
 
 204 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 Surprised at her manner, he held it in his hand. 
 
 " Put it in your pocket," added the, in a hurrying voice, 
 " else my sister will see it, and ask what it is ! " 
 
 Full of wonder, he obeyed her ; and the little beauty, 
 having executed her scheme, seemed quite intoxicated with 
 delight. "VVhen he was preparing to withdraw, she called 
 to him, and asked when he should see Lady Tinemouth. 
 
 " This evening, madam." 
 
 " Then," returned she, '^ tell her Ladyship I shall come 
 and sit half an hour with her to-night; and here," added 
 she, running up to him, " present her that rose with my 
 love." Whilst she put it into his hand, she whispered in a 
 low voice, " and you will tell me what you think of the 
 verses I have given you." 
 
 Thaddeus blushed, and bowed. He hurried out of the 
 house into the street, as if by that haste he could have gotten 
 out of a cUlemma, to which he feared all this fooUsh mystery 
 of Euphemia was only the introduction. 
 
 Though of all men in the world he was perhaps the least 
 incUned to vanity; yet he must have been the most stupid, 
 had he not been convinced, by this time, of the criminal 
 attachment of Lady Sara. Added to that disagreeable cer- 
 tainty, he now more than dreaded a similar folly in Miss 
 Euphemia. 
 
 Can a man see himself the daily object of a pair of 
 melting eyes, hear everlasting sighs at his entrance and de- 
 parture, day after day receive tender though covert addresses 
 about chsinterested love — can he witness all this, and be 
 sincere, when he affirms it is the language of indifference ? 
 If that be possible, the Count Sobieski has no pretensions to 
 modesty, he comprehended the " discoursing" of Miss Eu- 
 phemia's "eye;" also the tendency of the love-sick miottoes, 
 which, under various excuses, she put into his hand ; and 
 with many a smile of pity he contemplated her childish ab- 
 surdity. 
 
 A few days prior to that in which she made this appoint- 
 ment with the Count, she presented to him another of her 
 devices, which ran thus: — " Fi-ighted Love, like a wild 
 beast, shakes the wood in which it hides." 
 
 Thaddeus almost laughed at the oddity of the conceit.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 205 
 
 " Do, dear j\Ir. Constantine," cried she, " translate it 
 into the sweetest French you can ; for I mean to have it 
 put into a medaUion, and to give it to the person whom I 
 most value on earth ! " 
 
 There was something so truly ridiculous in the sentence, 
 that, reluctant to allow even Miss Euphemia to expose her- 
 self so far, he considered a moment how he should make any 
 thing so bad, better, and then said, " I am afraid I cannot 
 translate it literally ; but surely, madam, you can do it 
 yourself ! " 
 
 " Yes, but I hke your French better than mine ; so, pray 
 oblige me." 
 
 Pie had done the same kind of thing a hundred times, 
 and, without farther discussion, wrote as follows: — 
 
 " L'amour, tel qu'une biche blesse'e, se traliit lui-meme 
 par sa crainte, qui fait remuer le feuillage qui le couvre." 
 
 " Bless me, how pretty ! " cried she, and immediately put 
 it into her bosom. 
 
 To this unlucky addition of tlie words ne trahit hd-mume, 
 Thaddeus was indebted for the present of the folded paper. 
 The ever-working imagination of Euphemia seized the in- 
 serted thought as a delicate avowal that he was the wounded 
 deer, he had substituted in place of the wild beast ; and as 
 soon as he arrived at home, he found the effects of her 
 mistake in the packet she had given with so much se- 
 crecy. 
 
 Allien he broke tlie seal, something dropped out and fell 
 on the carpet. He took it up, and blushed hke scarlet on 
 finding a gold medaUion, with the words he had altered 
 for iVliss Euphemia, engraved on blue enamel. With an 
 agitated hand he next looked at the envelope ; it contained a 
 copy of verses, with this line written at the top: — 
 
 " To him who wiD apply them." 
 
 On perusing farther, he found them to be Mr. Phillips's 
 beautiful translation of that ode of Sappho, which runs — 
 
 " Blest as the immortal gods is he, 
 The friend who fondly sits by thee, 
 And hears and sees thee all the while, 
 Softly speak, and sweetly smile ! 
 
 " 'Twas this deprived my soul of rest. 
 And rais'd such tumults in my breast : 
 For while I gazed in transport tost, 
 Wy brcatli was tjone, my voice was lost.
 
 206 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " My bosom glow'd ; the subtle flame 
 
 Ran quick through all my vital frame; 
 
 O'er my dim eyes a darkness hung ; 
 
 My ears with hollow murmurs rung. 
 " In dewy damps my limbs were chill'd ; 
 
 My blood with gentle horrors thriU'd : 
 
 My feeble pulse forgot to jilay : 
 
 I fainted, sunk, and dy'd away ! 
 
 " EUPUEMIA." 
 
 Thaddeus threw the verses and the medalhon together 
 on the table, and sat for a few minutes considering how he 
 should extricate himself from an affair so truly farcical in 
 itself, but which might be productive to him of a very dis- 
 tressing consequence. 
 
 He was thinking of at once giving up the task of attending 
 either of the sisters, when his eyes falling on the uncom- 
 plaining but melancholy features of his poor friend, he ex- 
 claimed, " No ; for thy sake, gallant Butzou, I will brave 
 every scene, however abhorrent to my heart ! " 
 
 Well aware, from observation on Miss Euphemia, that 
 the seeming tenderness which prompted an act so wild and * 
 unbecoming, originated in mere caprice, he did not hesitate 
 in determining to return the things in as handsome a manner 
 as possible ; and, by so doing, at once crush the whole affair. 
 He felt no pain in forming these resolves ; because he saw, 
 that not one impulse of her conduct sprung from her heart. 
 It was a whim raised by him to-day, which might be super- 
 seded by another to-morrow. 
 
 But how different was the case with regard to Lady Sara ! 
 Her uncontrolled nature could not long brook the restraints of 
 friendship. Every attention he gave to Lady Tinemouth, 
 every civiUty he paid to Miss Egerton, or to any other lady 
 whom he met at the Countess's, went like a dagger to her 
 soul ; and whenever she could gain his ear in private, she 
 generally made him sensible of her misery and his own 
 unhappiness in being its cause, by reproaches which too 
 unequivocally proclaimed their source. 
 
 He now saw that she had given way to a dangerous and 
 headstrong passion ; and, allowing for the politeness which 
 is due to the sex, he tried by an appearance of the most 
 stubborn coldness, and an obstinate perversity in shutting 
 his a})prehension against all her speeches and actions, to 
 stem a tide that threatened her with ruin.
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 207 
 
 Lady Tineniouth at last began to o])en her eyes to the 
 perilous situation of both her friends. Highly as she 
 esteemed Thaddeus, she knew not the extent of his integrity. 
 She had lived too long near the court of Great Britain ; and 
 had seen too many men from the courts of the Continent, to 
 place much reliance on the honour of a single and unattached 
 young man, when assailed by rank, beauty, and love. 
 
 Alarmed at what might be the result of her observations, 
 and fearing to lose any time, she had that very evening in 
 which she expected the Count to supper, drawn out of Lady 
 Sara the unhappy state of her heart. 
 
 The dreadful confession was made by her Ladyship, with 
 repeated showers of tears, and in paroxysms of agony which 
 pierced the Countess to the soul. 
 
 " My dear Lady Sara," cried she, " for Heaven's sake, 
 remember your duty to Captain Roos ! " 
 
 " I shall never forget it!" exclaimed her Ladyship, 
 shaking her head mournfully, and striking her breast with 
 her clenched hand ; " I never look on the face of Con- 
 stantino, that I do not execrate from my heart, the vows 
 which I have sworn to Roos : but I have bound myself 
 his property ; and, though I hate him, whatever it may cost 
 me, I will never forget that my faith and honour are my 
 husband's." 
 
 With a countenance bathed in tears. Lady Tinemou-h put 
 her arms round the waist of Lady Sara, who now sat motion- 
 less, with her eyes fixed on the fire. 
 
 " Dear Lady Sara ! that was spoken like yourself. Do 
 more ; abstain from seeing Mr. Constantine." 
 
 " Don't require of me that ! '" cried she ; " I could easier 
 rid myself of existence. He is the very essence of my hap- 
 piness. It is only in his company that I forget I am a 
 wretch." 
 
 " This is obstinacy, my dear Lady Sara ! This is courting 
 .danger." 
 
 " Lady Tinemouth, urge me no more. Is it not enough," 
 continued she, sullenly, " that I am miserable .'' AVould 
 you drive me to desperation } If there be danger, you 
 brought me into it." 
 "I!"
 
 208 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 " Yes, you. Lady Tinemouth ; you introduced him 
 to me." 
 
 " But you are married. Handsome and amiable as he 
 is, could I suppose — — " 
 
 " Nonsense ! " cried her Ladyship, interrupting her : 
 " you know that I am married to a mere fool ! But it is not 
 because Constantine is handsome, that I like him. No; 
 though no human form can come nearer to perfection, yet 
 it was not that : it was you. You and Maria Egerton 
 were always telling me of his bravery ; what wealth and 
 honours he had sacrificed in the service of his country; how 
 nobly he succoured the distresses of others ; how heedless 
 he was of his own. This fired my imagination, and won my 
 heart. No, it was not his beauty ; I am not so despicable ! " 
 " Dear Lady Sara, be calm !" entreated the Countess, 
 completely at a loss how to manage a spirit of such violence: 
 " think, my dear friend, what horrors you would experi- 
 ence, if Mr. Constantine were to discover this predilection, 
 and presume upon it ! You know, where even the best men 
 are vulnerable." 
 
 The eyes of Lady Sara sparkled with pleasure, 
 '^'^rhy, surely. Lady Sara !" exclaimed Lady Tinemouth, 
 doubtingly. 
 
 '' Don't fear me, Lady Tinemouth ; I know my own dig- 
 nity too well to do any thing disgraceful; yet I would acquire 
 the knowledge that he loves me, at almost any price. But 
 he is cold," added she: "he is apiece of obstinate petrifac- 
 tion, which Heaven itself could not melt ! " 
 
 Lady Tinemouth was glad to hear this account of Thad- 
 deus; but ere she could reply, the drawing-room door opened, 
 and Miss Euphemia Dundas was announced. 
 
 When the little beauty expressed her amazement at not 
 seeing Mr. Constantine, Lady Sara gave her such a withering 
 look, that had her Ladyship's eyes been Medusean, poor 
 Eupliemia would have stood there for ever after, a stone 
 statue of disappointment.
 
 THADDEUS OP WAUSAW. 209 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Meanwhile tlie C^ount having seen Dr. Cavendish, and 
 received a favourable opinion of his friend, wrote the fol- 
 lowing note to JMiss Euphemia : — 
 
 " To Miss Euphemia Dundas. 
 
 " Mr. Constantino very much admires the taste of Miss 
 Euphemia Dundas, in her choice of the verses which she 
 did him the honour of requesting he would translate into 
 the most expressive language ; and to the utmost of his 
 abilities, he has obeyed her commands in Italian, thinking 
 that language the best adapted to the versification and the 
 subject. 
 
 " Mr. Constantine equally admires the style of the me- 
 dallion, which Miss E. Dundas has condescended to enclose 
 for his inspection, and assures her the letters are correct." j 
 
 Having sealed his note, and seen the General in bed, with 
 little Nanny seated by him to watch his slumbers, Thad- 
 deus pursued his way to Grosvenor Place. 
 
 ^\iien he entered Lady Tinemouth's drawing-room, he 
 saw that his young ennmorata was already arrived, and in 
 close conversation with the Countess. Lady Sara, seated 
 alone on a sofa, inwardly upbraided Constantine for what 
 she thought an absolute assignation with Euphemia. 
 
 Her half resentful eyes, yet swimming in the tears which 
 her discourse with Lady Tinemouth had occasioned, sought 
 his averted face as he looked at Miss Dundas with evident 
 surprise and disgust. This pleased her : and the more so, 
 as he only bowed to her rival, shook the Countess by the 
 hand, and then returning, took his station beside her on the 
 sofa. 
 
 She would not trust her triumphant eyes towards Lady 
 Tinemouth, but immediately asked him some trifling ques- 
 tion. At the same moment Euphemia tapped him on the 
 arm with her fan, and enquired how it happened she had 
 arrived first. 
 
 V
 
 210 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 He answered Lady Sara. Euphemia impatiently re- 
 peated her demand, "How did it happen I arrived first?" 
 — "I suppose, madam," replied he, smiling, " because you 
 were so fortunate as to set out first. But had I been so 
 happy as to have preceded you, I should certainly have ex- 
 ecuted your commands, and have delivered your message 
 and present to Lady Tinemouth. I hope your Ladyship 
 will permit me to do it now ? " said he, rising, and taking 
 Euphemia's rose from his button as he approached the 
 Countess; — Miss Euphemia Dundas has done me the 
 honour to make me the bearer of sweets to the sweet ; and 
 thus I surrender my trust." He bowed and put the flower 
 into Lady Tinemouth's hand, who smiled and thanked Eu- 
 phemia. But the little beauty blushed like her own rose ; 
 and murmuring within herself at the literal apprehension of 
 her favourite, whom she thought as handsome as Cimon and 
 as stupid too, she flirted her fan, and asked Miss Egerton 
 whether she had read Charlotte Smith's last delightful 
 novel. 
 
 The evening passed off" more agreeably to the Count than 
 he had augured from the scene that presented itself on his 
 entrance. Lady Sara always gave him pain : Miss Euphe- 
 mia teased him to death ; but, to-night, the storm which 
 had agitated the breast of her Ladyship, having subsided 
 into thoughtfulness, it imparted so abstracted an air to her 
 ever-lovely countenance^ that Sobieski, merely to elude com- 
 munication with Euphemia, remained near her ; and, by 
 paying those attentions which he could not avoid, he so de- 
 luded the wretched Lady Sara, as to subdue her melancholy 
 into an enchanting softness, that rendered her the most 
 captivating of women. 
 
 The only person present Avho did not approve the change 
 was Lady Tinemouth. At every dissolving smile of her 
 Circean Ladyship, she beheld the intoxicating cup at the 
 lips of Thaddeus, and dreaded its efitct. Euphemia was 
 too busily employed repeating some new poems, and too in- 
 tensely dreaming of what her tutor might say on the verses 
 and medallion, to observe the dangerous ascendency which 
 the superior charms of Lady Sara might acquire over the 
 heart of Constantine. Indeed, she had no suspicion of
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 211 
 
 finding a rival in her Ladyship ; and when a servant an- 
 nounced the arrival of her mother's coach, and she saw hy 
 her watch it was twelve o'clock, she arose reluctantly, ex- 
 claiming — 
 
 " I dare say some plaguing people have arrived, who are 
 to stay with us ; else mamma wouUl not have sent for me 
 BO soon." 
 
 " I call it late," said Lady Sara, who would not lose any 
 opportunity of contradicting her: "so I will thank you 
 Mr. Constantine," addressing herself to him, '' to hand me 
 to my coach at the same time." 
 
 Euphemia bit her lip at this movement of her Ladyship, 
 and followed her down stairs reddening with anger. She 
 got into her carriage, but would not suffer the servant to 
 close the door until she had seen Lady Sara seated in hers ; 
 and then she called to Mr. Constantine to speak with her. 
 
 Lady Sara leaned her head out of the window. As she 
 saw the man she loved approacli Lady Dundas's carriage, 
 she, in her turn, bit her li])s with vexation. 
 
 " Home, my Lady ? " asked the servant, touching his 
 hat. 
 
 " No, not till Miss Dundas's coach drives on." 
 
 Miss Euphemia desired Thaddeus to step in for a mo- 
 ment ; and reluctantly he obeyed. 
 
 "J\Ir. Constantine !" cried the pretty simpleton, trem- 
 bling with expectation, as she made room for him beside 
 her, " have you opened tlie paper I gave you ? " 
 
 " Yes, madam," returned he, holding the door open, 
 and widening it with one hand as he spoke — whilst Avith 
 the other he presented his note, " and I have the honour, 
 in that paper, to have executed your commands." 
 
 Euphemia caught it eagerly ; and Thaddeus immediately 
 leaping out, wished her a good night, and hurried back into 
 the house. 'Whilst the carriages drove away, he ascended 
 to the drawing-room to take leave of the Countess. 
 
 Lady Tinemouth, seated on the sofa, was leaning thought- 
 fully against one of its arms, when he re-entered. lie ap- 
 proached her. 
 
 " I wish yovi a good night. Lady Tinemouth." 
 
 She turned her head. 
 
 V 2
 
 212 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " Mr. Constantine, I wish you would stay a little longer 
 with me ! My spirits are disturbed, and I am afraid it 
 will be near morning before Maria returns from Richmond. 
 These rural balls are sad dissipated amusements !" 
 
 Thaddeus laid down his hat, and took a seat by her 
 side. 
 
 " I am happy, dear Lady Tinemouth, at all times to be 
 with you ; but I am sorry to hear you have met with any 
 thing to discompose you. I was afraid, when I came in, 
 that something disagreeable had happened ; your eyes — " 
 
 " Alas ! if my eyes were always to show when I have 
 been weeping, they might ever be telling tales !" Her 
 Ladyship passed her hand across her eyes as she spoke, 
 and added, " We may think on our sorrows with an out- 
 ward air of tranquillity ; but we cannot always speak of 
 them, without some agitation." 
 
 " Ah, Lady Tinemouth ! " exclaimed the Count, drawing 
 closer to her, " could not even your sensible heart escape 
 calamity ? " 
 
 " To cherish a sensible heart, my young friend," replied 
 she, " is not a very effectual way to avoid the pressure of 
 affliction. On the reverse, such a temper extracts unhap- 
 piness from causes which would fail to extort even a sigh, 
 from dispositions of less susceptibility. Ideas of sensibility 
 and sympathy are pretty toys for a novice to play with ; 
 but change those wooden swords into weapons of real mettle, 
 and you will find the points through your heart, before you 
 are aware of the danger — at least, I found it so. Mr. 
 Constantine, I have frequently promised to exjilain to you 
 the reason of the sadness which so often tinges my con- 
 versation ; indeed, I know not when I shall be in a fitter 
 humour to indulge myself at your expense, for I never was 
 more wretched, never stood more in need of the consolations 
 of a friend." 
 
 She covered her face with her handkerchief, and remained 
 so for some time. — Thaddeus pressed her hand several 
 times, and waited in respectful silence until she recom- 
 menced. 
 
 " Forgive me, my dear sir ; I am very low to-night — • 
 very nervous. Having encountered two or three distress-
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 213 
 
 ing circumstances to-day, tliese tears relieve me. You have 
 heard me speak of my son, and of my Lord ; yet I never 
 collected resolution to recount, how we were separated. 
 This morning, I saw my son pass my window ; he looked 
 up ; but the moment I appeared, he turned away and hast- 
 ened down the street. Though I have received many 
 stronger proofs of dislike, both from his father and himself, 
 yet, slight as this offence may seem, it pierced me to the 
 lieart. O, Mr. Constantine, to know that tlie child to wliom 
 I gave life regards me with abhorrence, is dreadful — is 
 beyond even the anxious partiality of a mother, either to 
 excuse or to palliate ! " 
 
 '' Perhaps, dear Lady Tinemouth, you misjudge Lord 
 Harwold ; he may be under the commands of his father, 
 and yet long to show you his affection and duty." 
 
 " No, Mr. Constantine, your heart is too good even to 
 guess what may be the guilt of another. Gracious Heaven ! 
 am I obliged to speak so of my own son ! He who was my 
 darling ! He who once loved me so dearly ! But, hear me, 
 my dear sir; you shall judge for yourself; and you will 
 wonder that I am now alive to endure more. I have suf- 
 fered by him, by his father, and by a dreadful woman, who 
 not only tore my husband and children from me, but stood 
 by till I was beaten to the ground. Yes, Mr. Constantine, 
 any humane man would shudder as you do, at such an 
 assertion; but it is too true. Soon after Lady Sophia Lovel 
 became the mistress of my Lord, and persuaded him to take 
 my son from me, I heard that the poor boy had fallen ill 
 through grief, and lay sick at his Lordship's house in Hamp- 
 shire. I heard he was dying. Imagine my agonies. A\'^ild 
 with distress, I flew to the lodge, and forgetful of any thing 
 but my child, was hastening across the park when I saw 
 this woman, this Lady Sophia, approaching me, followed 
 by two female servants. One of them carried my daughter, 
 then an infant, in her arms ; and the other, a child of which 
 this unnatural wretch had recently become the mother. I 
 was flying towards my little Albina, to clasp her to my 
 heart, when Lady Sophia caught hold of my arm. Her 
 voice now rings in my ears. ' A^oman ! ' cried she, ' leave 
 p 3
 
 214 THADDEUS OF WARSAM'. 
 
 this place : there are none here^ to whom you are not an 
 object of abhorrence.' 
 
 " Strugghng to break from her, I implored to be per- 
 mitted to embrace my child ; but she held me fast, and, 
 regardless of my cries, ordered both the women to return 
 into the house. Driven to despair, I dropped on my knees, 
 conjuring her, by her feelings as a mother, to allow me for 
 one moment to see my dying son ; and that I would pro- 
 mise, by my hopes of everlasting happiness, to cherish her 
 child as my own, should it ever stand in need of a friend. 
 The horrid woman only laughed at my prayers, and left me 
 in a swoon. When I recovered, the first objects I beheld 
 were my Lord, and Lady Sophia standing near me, and 
 myself in the arms of a man-servant, whom they had com- 
 manded to carry me outside of the gate. At the sight of 
 my husband, I sprang to his feet, when, with one dreadful 
 blow of his hand, he knocked me to the ground. ]\Ierciful 
 Providence! how did I retain my senses! I beseeched this 
 ci-uel husband to give me a second blow, that I might suf- 
 fer no more. 
 
 " ' Take her out of my sight,' cried he, ' she is mad.' 
 
 " I was taken out of his sight, more dead than alive ; 
 and led, by his pitying servants, to an inn, where I was 
 afterwards confined three weeks with a brain fever. From 
 that hour, I have never known a day of health." 
 
 Thaddeus was shocked beyond utterance, at this relation. 
 The paleness of his countenance being the only reply he 
 made to her Ladyship, she resumed. 
 
 " I have gone out of order. I proposed to inform you 
 clearly of my situation, but the principal outrage of my 
 heart rose immediately to my lips. I will commence re- 
 gularly, if I can methodise my recollection. 
 
 " The Earl of Tinemouth married me from passion : I 
 will not sanctify his emotions by the name of affection : 
 though," added she, forcing a smile, '' these faded features 
 too plainly show, that qf (ilhiiniiJcind, I loved but him alone. 
 I was just fifteen when he came to visit my father, who 
 lived in Berkshire. My father, Mr. Cumnor, and his father. 
 Lord Harwold, had been friends at college. My Lord, then 
 Mr. Stanhope, was young, handsome, and captivating. He
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 215 
 
 rcmainetl the autumn with us ; and at the end of that pe- 
 riod, declared an affection for me, which my heart too 
 readily answered. — About this time he received a summons 
 from his father, and we parted. Like most girls of my 
 age, I cherished an unconquerable bashfuhiess against ad- 
 mitting any confidant in iny attachment ; hence my parents 
 knew nothing of the affair, until it burst upon them in the 
 cruelest shape. 
 
 " About two months after Mr. Stanhope's departure, a 
 letter arrived from him, urging me to fly to Scotland. He 
 alleged as a reason for such a step, that his grandfather, the 
 Earl of Tinemouth, insisted on his forming an union with 
 Lady Sophia Lovel, who was then a young widow, and the 
 favourite niece of the most powerful nobleman in the king- 
 dom. Upon this demand he told the Earl his affections 
 were engaged. His Lordship, whose passions were those 
 of a madman, broke into such horrible execrations of my- 
 self and my family, that Mr. Stanhope confessed he forgot 
 his duty as a grandson, and peremptorily swore that no 
 power on earth should compel him either to marry so no- 
 torious a woman as Lady Sophia Lovel, or to give up me. 
 After communicating these particulars to me, he concluded 
 with repeating his entreaties that I would consent to go Avith 
 him to Scotland. The whole of this letter so alarmed me, 
 tliat I showed it to my parents. My father answered it in 
 a manner befitting his own character ; but he irritated the 
 impetuous passions of my lover almost to frenzy. In 
 short, in a paroxysm of rage, he flew to his grandfather, 
 upbraided him with the ruin of his happiness, and so exas- 
 perated the old man, that he drew his sword upon him ; 
 and had it not been for the interference of Lord Harwold, 
 a most fatal catastrophe might have ensued. To end the 
 aflPdir at once. Lord Harwold, whose gentle nature embraced 
 the mildest measures, obtained the Earl's permission to send 
 Mr. Stanhope abroad. 
 
 " Meanwhile, I was upheld by my father, who is now 
 no more, in firmly rejecting my lover's entreaties for a pri- 
 vate marriage. And as his grandfather continued resolutely 
 deaf to his prayers or threats. Stanhope was at length per- 
 p 4
 
 2l6 TilADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 suaded by his excellent father to accompany a relation to 
 France. 
 
 " At the end of a few weeks Mr. Stanhope began to re- 
 gard his cousin as a spy ; and after a violent quarrel they 
 parted, no one knowing to what quarter my lover directed 
 his steps. I believe I was the first who heard any tidings 
 of him. I remember well, it was in 1770, about four-and- 
 twenty years ago, that I received a letter from him ; (O ! 
 how legibly are these circumstances written in my memory !) 
 it was dated from Italy, where, he told me, he resided in 
 complete retirement, under the assumed name of Sackville." 
 
 At this name, with every feature fixed in dismay, Thad- 
 deus fell back on the sofa. 
 
 The Countess caught his hand. 
 
 " 'What is the matter ? For Heaven's sake ! what is 
 the matter ? " 
 
 The bolt of indelible disgrace had struck to his heart. 
 It was some minutes before he could recover ; but when he 
 did speak, he said, " Pray go on, madam, I am subject to 
 this. Pray forgive me, and go on ; I shall become better 
 as you proceed." 
 
 " No, my dear friend ; I will quit my dismal story at 
 present, and resume it some other time." 
 
 " Pray continue it now," rejoined Thaddeus ; '' I shall 
 never be more fit to listen. Do, I entreat you." 
 
 " Are you sincere in your request ? I fear I have 
 already affected you too much." 
 
 " No ; I am sincere ; let me hear it all. Do not hold 
 back any thing which relates to that barbarian Englishman, 
 who completed his crimes by rendering you wretched !" 
 
 " Alas ! he did," resumed her Ladyship ; " for Avhen he 
 returned, which was in consequence of the Earl of Tine- 
 mouth's death, my father was also dead, who might have 
 stood between me and my inclinations, and so preserved me 
 from many succeeding sorrows. I sealed my fate, and be- 
 came his wife. 
 
 " Tlie father of my husband was now Earl of Tinemouth; 
 and, as lie had never been averse to our union, he presented 
 me with a cottage on the banks of the Wye, where I passed 
 three delightful years, the happiest of womankind. My
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 217 
 
 husband, my mother, and my infant son, formed my felicity; 
 and greatly I prized it ; too greatly to be allowed a long 
 continuance ! 
 
 " At the end of this period, some gay friends paid us a 
 visit. ^Fhen they returned to town, they persuaded my 
 Lord to be of the party. He went ; and from that fatal 
 day all my sufferings arose. 
 
 " Lord Harwold, instead of being with me in a fortnight, 
 as he had promised, procrastinated his absence under various 
 excuses from week to week, during which interval my Al- 
 bina was born. Day after day I anticipated the delight of 
 putting her into the arms of her father, but she was three 
 months old before he appeared ; and, ah ! how changed. 
 lie was gloomy to me, uncivil to my mother, and hardly 
 looked at the child." 
 
 Lady Tinemouth stopped at this part of her narrative to 
 wipe away her tears. Thaddeus Avas sitting forward to the 
 table, leaning on his arm, with his hand covering his face. 
 The Countess was grateful for an excess of sympathy she 
 did not expect ; and taking his other hand, as it lay mo- 
 tionless on his knee, " 'What a consolation would it be to 
 me," exclaimed she, " durst I entertain a hope that I may 
 one day behold but half of this pity in my son !" 
 
 Thaddeus only pressed her hand ; he did not venture to 
 reply ; he could not tell her that she deceived herself even 
 here ; that he did not deplore only her misfortunes, but 
 owed the agonies which were shaking him, to tlie injuries 
 of his own mother, whom the villanous conduct of this very 
 Earl, under the name of Sackville, had devoted to a life of 
 sorrow. He had derived existence from the husband of 
 Lady Tinemouth ! The conviction humbled him, crushed 
 him, and trod him to the earth. 
 
 The Countess resumed : — 
 
 " It would be impossible, my dear sir, to describe to you 
 the gradual changes which assured me that I had lost the 
 heart of my husband. Before the end of the winter he left 
 me again ; — and I saw him no more, until that frightful 
 hour in which he struck me to the ground. 
 
 " Lord Tinemouth came into Monmouthshire about six 
 ■weeks after I parted with my Lord. I was surprised and
 
 218 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 rejoiced to see my good father-in-law ; but how soon were 
 my emotions driven into a different course ! He revealed 
 to me, that during Lord Harwold's first visit to town, he 
 had been in the habit of spending entire evenings with Lady 
 Sojihia Lovcl. 
 
 " '^ This woman,' added he, ' is the most artful of her 
 sex. In spite of her acknowledged dishonour, you well 
 know my deceased father would gladly have married her to 
 my son ; and now, it seems, actuated by revenge, she re- 
 sents Lord Harwold's refusal of her hand by seducing him 
 from his wife. Alas ! I am too well convinced, the errors 
 in my son's temper bear a strict analogy with those of his 
 grandfather. Lnpatient of contradiction, flattery can mould 
 him to what it pleases. Lady Sophia has discovered these 
 weak points in his character ; and, I am informed, she has 
 persuaded him that you impose on his affection by detaining 
 him from the world. This argument must have been well 
 seconded by other fascinations, for in regard to beauty she 
 is only moderate ; yet she has succeeded, and my deluded 
 son has accompanied her to Spain.' 
 
 " You may imagine, Mr. Constantine, my distraction at 
 this intelligence. I was like one frantic ; and Lord Tine- 
 mouth, fearing to trust me in such despair out of his sight, 
 brought us all with him to London. In less than four 
 months afterwards I was deprived of this inestimable friend 
 by a paralytic stroke. His death summoned the new Earl 
 to England. Whilst I lay on a sick bed, into which I had 
 been thrown by the shock, my Lord and his mistress ar- 
 rived. 
 
 " They immediately assumed the command of my la- 
 mented protector's house, and ordered my mother to clear 
 it directly of me. My heart-broken parent obeyed, and I 
 was carried in a senseless state to a lodging in the nearest 
 street. But when this dear mother returned for my chil- 
 dren, neither of them were permitted to see her. The ma- 
 lignant Lady Sophia, actuated by an insatiable hatred of 
 me, easily wrought on my frantic husband (for I must 
 believe him mad) to detain them entirely. A short time 
 after this, that dreadful scene happened which I have before 
 described.
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 219 
 
 '' Year succeeded year^ during which time I received 
 many crael insults from my husband, many horrible ones 
 from my son ; for I liad been atlvised to institute a suit 
 against my Lord, in which I only pleaded for the return of 
 my children. I lost my cause, owing, I hope, to bad coun- 
 sel, not to the laws of my country. I was adjudged to be 
 separated from the Earl, with a maintenance of six hundred 
 a year, which he hardly pays. I was tied down never to 
 speak to him, his son, or his daughter. Thougli this sen- 
 tence was passed, I never acknowledged its justice, but 
 wrote several times to my children. I^ord Ilarwold, who 
 is too deeply infected with his father's cruelty, has either 
 returned my letters unopened, or with insulting replies. For 
 my daughter, she keeps an undeviating silence ; and I have 
 not even seen her since the moment in which she was hur- 
 ried from my eyes in Tinemouth Park. 
 
 " In vain her brother tries to convince me that she de- 
 tests me ; I will not believe it ; and the hope, that should 
 I survive her father I may yet embrace my child, has been 
 and will be, my source of comfort until it be fulfilled, or I 
 bury my disappointment in the grave."' 
 
 Lady Tinemouth put her handkerchief to her eyes, which 
 were again flowing with tears. Thaddeus thought he must 
 speak, if he would not betray an interest in her narrative, 
 which he determined no circumstance should ever hiuuble 
 him to reveal ; and raising his head from his hand, un- 
 consciously discovered to the Countess his agonised coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 " Kind sympathising Constantino ; surely such a heart 
 as thine never would bring sorrow to the breast of a virtuous 
 husband !" 
 
 These were her Ladyship's thoughts, though she did not 
 give them utterance. Thaddeus rose from his seat. 
 
 " Farewell, Lady Tinemouth," said he; " may Heaven 
 bless you, and pardon your husband ! " 
 
 Then grasping her hand, with what he intended should 
 be a pressure of friendship, but which his internal tortures 
 rendered almost intolerable, he hastened down stairs, opened 
 the outward door, and got into the street. 
 
 Unknowing and heetUess whither he went, with the steps
 
 220 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 of a man driven by the furies, he traversed first one street 
 and then another. As he went along, in vain the watch- 
 men reminded him, by their cries, that it was past three 
 o'clock ; he still wandered on, forgetting that it was night, 
 that he had any home, any destination. 
 
 His father was discovered ! That father of whom he 
 had entertained a latent hope, should they ever meet, might 
 produce some excuse for having been betrayed into an act 
 disgraceful to a man of honour. But when all these filial 
 dreams were blasted by the conviction that he owed his 
 being to the husband of Lady Tinemouth ; that his mother 
 was the victim of a profligate ; that he had sprung from a 
 man who was not merely a villain, but the most wanton_, 
 the most despicable of villains ; he saw himself bereft of 
 hope, and overwhelmed with shame and horror. 
 
 Full of reflections, which none other than a son in such 
 circumstances can conceive, he was lost amidst the obscure 
 alleys of Tottenham-Court-Road, when loud and frequent 
 cries recalled his attention. A quantity of smoke, with flashes 
 of light, led him to suppose that they were occasioned by a 
 fire ; and a few steps farther, the tremendous spectacle burst 
 upon his sight. 
 
 It was a house, from the windows of which the flames 
 were breaking out in every direction, whilst a gathering 
 concourse of people were either standing in stupified as- 
 tonishment, or uselessly shouting for engines and assistance. 
 
 At the moment in which he arrived, two or three naked 
 wretches, just escaped from their beds, were flying from 
 side to side, making the air echo with their shrieks. 
 
 " "Will nobody save my children ?" cried one of them, 
 approaching Thaddeus,an(l wringing her hands in an agony; 
 " W'lW nobody take them from the fire ? " 
 
 " Where shall I seek them ? " replied he. 
 
 " Oh ! in that room," exclaimed she, pointing : " the 
 flames are already there ; they will be burnt ! they will be 
 burnt ! " 
 
 The poor woman was hurrying franticly forward, when 
 the Count stopped her, and giving her in charge to a by- 
 stander, " Take care of this woman," cried he : " if pos- 
 sible, I will save her children." Darting through the open
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 221 
 
 door; — in defiance of the smoke and danger, he made his 
 way to the children's room ; where, ahnost suffocated by tlie 
 sulphureous cloud that surrounded him, he at last found the 
 bed, but it contained one child only. This he instantly 
 caught up in his arms ; and was hastening down stairs, 
 when the cries of the other from a distant part of the 
 building, made him hesitate; but, thinking it better to 
 secure one, than to hazard both by lingering, he got into 
 the street just as a post-chaise had stopped to enquire the 
 particulars of tlie accident. The carriage door being open, 
 and Thaddeus seeing peoi)le in it, without saying a word 
 threw the sleeping infant into their laps, and hastened back 
 into the house where he hoped to rescue the other before 
 the fire could increase. 
 
 The flames having now made a dreadful progress, his 
 face, hands, and clothes were scorched by their fury as he 
 flew from room to room, following the shrieks of the child, 
 who seemed to change its situation with every exertion that 
 he made to reach it. At length, when every moment he 
 expected the house would sink imder his feet, as a last at- 
 tempt he directed his steps along a passage he had not 
 before observed, and to his great joy beheld the object of 
 his search flying down a back staircase. The boy sprung 
 into his arms ; and Thaddeus turning round, leaped from 
 one landing-place to another, until he found himself in the 
 street, and surrounded by a crowd of people. 
 
 He saw the poor mother clasp the rescued child to her 
 breast ; and whilst the spectators were loading her with con- 
 gratulations, he slipped unseen away ; and proceeded home- 
 wards, with a warmth at his heart, which made him forget, 
 in the joy of a benevolent action, that petrifying shock, 
 which had been occasioned by the vices of one too nearly 
 allied to his being to be hated without horror.
 
 222 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 When Thaddeus awoke next morning, he found himself 
 more refreshed, and free from the effects of the last night's 
 discovery, than he could have reasonably hoped. The pre- 
 sence of mind and activity which the fire called on him to 
 exert, having forced his thoughts into a different channel, 
 afforded his nerves an opportunity to regain some portion 
 of their usual strength. He could now reflect on what he 
 had heard, without suffering the crimes of another to lay 
 him on the rack. The reins were again restored to his 
 hand ; and neither agitation nor anxiety showed themselves 
 in his face or manner. 
 
 Though the Count's sensibility was very irritable, and 
 •when suddenly attacked he coidd not always conceal his 
 emotion, yet he possessed a power of look which immedi- 
 ately repressed the impertinence of curiosity or insolence. 
 Indeed, this mantle of repulsion proved to be his best 
 ehield ; for never had man more demands on the dignity of 
 his soul, to shine out about his person. 
 
 Not unfrequently has the sudden appearance of the Count 
 at once called a natural glow through the ladies' rouge, and 
 silenced the gentlemen, when he has happened to enter while 
 ]\Iiss Dundas and half a dozen beaux and belles have been 
 ridiculing Eupheraia on the absurd civilities she paid to her 
 language-master ! 
 
 The morning after the fire a little bevy of fashionable 
 butterflies were collected in this way, at one corner of Miss 
 Dundas's study, when during a momet's pause, " I hope. 
 Miss Beaufort," cried the Honourable Mr. LasceUes, " I 
 hope you don't intend to consume the brightness of your 
 eyes over this stupid language?" 
 
 "What language, Mr. Lascelles ?" enquired she; "I 
 have this moment entered the room, and I don't know what 
 you are talking about." 
 
 " (lood Lud, that is very true," cried he ; " 1 mean a 
 shocking jargon which a shocking pcnseroso man teaches to
 
 TIIAnnEUS OF WARSAW. 223 
 
 these ladies. We want to persuade Miss Euphemia that it 
 spoils her mouth." 
 
 " You are always misconceiving me, Mr. Lascelles/' in- 
 terrupted Miss Dundas, impatiently ; " I did not advance 
 one word against the language ; I merely remonstrated with 
 Phemy against her preposterous attentions to the man we 
 hire to teach it." 
 
 " That was what I meant, madam," resumed he, with a 
 low bow. 
 
 " You meant what, sir ? " demanded the little beauty, 
 contemptuously ; " but I need not ask. You are like a bad 
 mirror, which from radical defect always gives false re- 
 flections. 
 
 " Very good, efaith, Miss Euphemia ! I declare, sterling 
 wit ! It would do honour to Sheridan, or your sister." 
 
 " Mr. Lascelles," cried Euphemia, more vexed than be- 
 fore, " let me tell you such impertinence is very unbecom- 
 ing a gentleman." 
 
 " Upon my soul. Miss Euphemia ! " 
 
 '' Pray allow the petulant young lady to get out of her 
 airs, as she has, I believe, got out of her senses, with- 
 out our help ! " exclaimed ]\Iiss Dundas ; " for, I declare 
 to Heaven, I know not where she picked up these vile de- 
 mocratic ideas." 
 
 " I am not a democrat, Diana," answered Euphemia, 
 rising from her seat ; " and I won't stay to be abused, when 
 I know it is all envy, because iNIr. Constantino happened 
 to say that 1 have a quicker memory than you have." 
 
 She left the room as she ended. Miss Dundas ready to 
 Btorm with passion, but striving to conceal it, burst into a 
 violent laugh, and turning to Miss Beaufort, " You see, 
 my dear," said she, " a sad specimen of Euphemia's tem- 
 per ; yet I hope you won't think too severely of her ; for, 
 poor thing, she has been spoilt by us all." 
 
 " Pray, do not apologise to me in particular ! " replied 
 Miss Beaufort; " but, to be frank, I think it i)robable she 
 ■would have shown her temper less, had you given your ad- 
 monition in private. I doubt not she has committed some- 
 tiling wrong, yet "
 
 22 4j thaddeus of warsaw. 
 
 " Yes, something very wrong," interrupted Miss Dun- 
 das, reddening at this rebuke ; " both Mr. Lascelles and 
 Lord Berrington there " 
 
 " Don't bring in my name, I pray. Miss Dundas," cried 
 the Viscount, who was looking over an old edition of Mas- 
 singer's plays ; you know I hate being squeezed into 
 squabbles." 
 
 Miss Dundas dropped the corners of her mouth in con- 
 tempt, and went on. 
 
 " Well, then, Mr. Lascelles and Miss Poyntz, here, 
 have both, at different times, been present when Phemy 
 has conducted herself in a very ridiculous way towards a 
 young man Lady Tinemouth sent here to teach us Ger- 
 man. Can you believe it possible, that a girl of her fashion 
 could behave in this style, without having first imbibed 
 some very dangerous notions } 1 am sure I am right, 
 for she could not be more civil to him if he were a gen- 
 tleman." Miss Dundas supposed she had now set the 
 business beyond controversy, and stopped with an air of 
 triumph. Miss Beaufort peiceived that her answer was 
 expected. 
 
 " I really cannot discover any thing in the affair so very 
 reprehensible," replied she : " perhaps the man you speak 
 of may have talents and worth ; he may be above his 
 situation." 
 
 " Ah ! above it, sure enough ! " cried Lascelles, laugh- 
 ing boisterously at his own folly : " he is tall enough to be 
 above every thing, even good manners ; for, notwithstand- 
 ing' his plebeian calling, I don't find he knows how to keep 
 his distance." 
 
 " I am sorry for that, Lascelles," cried Berrington, 
 measuring the puppy with his good-natured eye ; " for 
 these Magog men are terrible objects to us of meaner di- 
 mensions ! ' A substitute shines brightly as a king, until a 
 king be by.' " 
 
 " Why, my Lord, you do not mean to compare me with 
 such a low fellow as this ? I don't understand. Lord Ber- 
 rington " 
 
 " Bless me, gentlemen ! " cried Miss Dundas, frightened
 
 THADI^EUS OF WARSAW. 22» 
 
 at the angry looks of the little Honourable^ " why, my 
 Lord, I thought you hated squabbles ? " 
 
 " So I do. Miss Dundas," replied he, laying down his 
 book, and coining forward ; " and upon my honour, Mr. 
 Lascelles," added he, smiling, and turning towards the cox- 
 comb, who stood nidging his head with anger by Miss 
 Beaufort's chair ; " upon my honour, Mr. Lascelles, I did 
 not mean to draw any parallel between your person and 
 
 talents and those of this i\Ir. , I forget his name ; 
 
 for truly I never saw him in my life ; but I dare swear 
 no comparison can exist between you." 
 
 Lascelles took the surface of tins speech, and bowed ; 
 whilst his Lordship, turning to Miss Beaufort, began to 
 compliment himself on possessing so fair an ally in defence 
 of the absent person. 
 
 " I never have seen him," replied she ; " and what is 
 more, I never heard of him, till on entering the room Mr. 
 Lascelles attacked me for my opinion. I only arrived from 
 the country last night, and can have no guess at the real 
 grounds of this ill-judged bustle of Miss Dundas's, about 
 a man she styles despicable. If he be so, why retain him 
 in her service ? and, what is more absurd, why make a 
 person in that subordinate situation the subject of debate 
 amongst her friends .'' " 
 
 " You are right. Miss Beaufort," returned Lord Ber- 
 rington ; " but the eloquent Miss Dundas is so kind to 
 her friends, she lets no opportunity slip of displaying her 
 power, both over the republic of words, and the empire of 
 her mother's family." > 
 
 " Are not you severe now. Lord Berrington "? I thought 
 you generous to the poor tutor." 
 
 " No; I hope I am just on both subjects. I know the 
 lady, and it is true that I have seen nothing of the tutor ; 
 but it is natural to wield the sword in favour of the defence- 
 less, and I always regard the absent in that light." 
 
 Whilst these two conversed at one end of the room, the 
 other group were arraigning the presumjition of the vulgar, 
 and the folly of them who gave it encouragement. 
 
 At a fresh burst of laughter from i\Iiss Dundas, Miss 
 Q
 
 226 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 Beaufort mechanically turned her head : her eye was ar- 
 rested by the appearance of a gentleman in black, who 
 was standing a few paces within the door. He was re- 
 garding the party before him, with that lofty tranquillity, 
 which is inseparable from high rank, when it is accom- 
 panied by virtue. His figure, his face, and his air, con- 
 tained that pure simplicity of contour which portrays all 
 the graces of youth with the dignity of manhood. 
 
 Miss Beaufort in a moment perceived that he was un- 
 observed ; and, rising from her seat, " Miss Dundas," said 
 she, " here is a gentleman." 
 
 Miss Dundas looked round carelessly. 
 
 " You may sit down, Mr. Constantine." 
 
 " Gracious Heaven !" thought ]\Iiss Beaufort, as he ap- 
 proached, and the ingenuous expression of his fine coun- 
 tenance was directed towards her, " can this noble creature 
 have been the subject of such impertinence !" 
 
 "1 commend little Phemy's taste!" whispered Lord 
 Berrington, leaving his seat ; " ha ! Miss Beaufort, a 
 young Apollo } " 
 
 " And not in disguise !" replied she in the same manner, 
 just as Thaddeus had bowed to her ; and, with " veiled 
 lids," was taking up a book from the table ; not to read, 
 but literally to have an object to look on which could not 
 insult him. 
 
 " ^V^hat did Miss Dundas say was his name .'' " whis- 
 pered the Viscount. 
 
 " Constantine, I think." 
 
 " Mr. Constantine," said the benevolent Berrington, 
 " will you accept of this chair ? " 
 
 Thaddeus declined it. But the Viscount read in the 
 "proud hiiviiliti/" of his bow, that he had not always 
 waited, a dependent, on the nods of insolent men and 
 women of fashion ; and, with a good humoured compul- 
 sion, he added, " Pray oblige me ; for by that means I 
 shall have an excuse to squeeze into the Sidtane, which is 
 so ' luipp// as to bear the treiyht of Beaufort!' " 
 
 Though Miss Beaufort was almost a stranger to his 
 Lordship, having only seen him once before, with her 
 cousin in Leicestershire, she smiled at this unexpected
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 227 
 
 freedom, and in consideration of the motive, made room 
 for him on the sofa. 
 
 Insult was not swifter than kindness in its passage to the 
 heart of Thaddeus : who, whilst he received the Viscount'-s 
 chair, raised his face towards him with a look, beaming 
 such graciousness and obhgation, that Miss Beaufort turned 
 with renewed contempt on the party. The next instant 
 they left the study. 
 
 The instant INIiss Dundas closed the door after her. Lord 
 Berrington exclaimed, " Upon my honour, INIr. Constan- 
 tine, 1 have a good mind to put that terrible pupil of yours 
 into my next comedy ! Don't you think she would beat 
 Katherine and I'etruchio all to nothing } I declare I will 
 have her." 
 
 '' In prop)'ia persona, I hope ? " asked Miss Beaufort, 
 with more bitterness than she was accustomed to conceive, 
 much less approve, by giving it expression. 
 
 The Count remained silent during these remarks, though 
 he fully appreciated the first civil treatment which had 
 greeted him since his admission within the doors of Lady 
 Dundas. Miss Euphemia's attentions owned any other 
 source than benevolence. 
 
 ]\Iiss Beaufort wished to relieve his embarrassment by 
 addressing him ; but the more she thought, the less she 
 knew what to say ; and she had just abandoned it as a vain 
 attempt, when Euphemia entered the room alone. She 
 courtesied to Thaddeus, and took her place at the table. 
 Lord Berrington rose. 
 
 " I must say good-by, iNIiss Euphemia ; I will not 
 disturb your studies. Farewell, Miss Beaufort," added he, 
 addressing her, and bending his lips to her hand ! " adieu ! 
 I shall look in upon you to-morrow. Good morning, Mr. 
 Constantine." 
 
 Thaddeus bowed to him, and the Viscount disappeared. 
 
 " I am surprised. Miss Beaufort," observed Euphemia 
 pettishly, her temper not having subsided since her sister's 
 lecture, " how you can endure that coxcomb!" 
 
 " Pardon me, Euphemia," replied she ; " though I did 
 not exactly expect the ceremony his Lordship uses in taking 
 Q 2
 
 228 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 leave, yet I think there is a generosity in his sentiments 
 which deserves a better title." 
 
 " I know nothing about his sentiments, for I always run 
 away from his conversation. A better title ! I declare you 
 make me laugh. Did you ever see such fantastical dressing? 
 I vow to Heaven, I never meet him without thinking of 
 Jemmy Jessamy, and the rest of the gossamer beaux who 
 squired our grandmothers ! " 
 
 " My acquaintance with Lord Berrington is trifling," 
 returned Miss Beaufort, withdrawing her eyes from the 
 pensive features of the Count, who was sorting the lessons; 
 " yet I am so far prepossessed in his favour, that I see little 
 in his appearance to reprehend. However, I will not contest 
 that point, as perhaps the philanthropy I this morning 
 discovered in his heart ; the honest warmth with which he 
 defended an absent character, after you left the room ; might 
 render his person as charming in my eyes, as 1 certainly 
 found his mind." 
 
 Thaddeus had not for a long time heard such sentiments 
 out of Lady Tinemouth's circle ; and he now looked up to 
 take a distinct view of the speaker. 
 
 In consequence of the established mode that the presiding 
 lady of the house is to give the tone to her guests, many 
 were the visitors of Miss Dundas, whose faces Thaddeus 
 was as ignorant of when they went out of the library, as 
 when they came in. They took little notice of him ; and 
 he, regarding them much less, pursued his occupation with- 
 out evincing a greater consciousness of their jiresence, than 
 what mere ceremony demanded. 
 
 Accordingly, when in compliance wath Lord Berrington 's 
 politeness, he received his chair, and saw him remove to a 
 sofa beside a very beautiful woman, he supposed that she 
 resembled the rest of Miss Dundas's friends, and never 
 directed his eyes a second time to her figure. But when he 
 heard her (in a voice that was melody itself) defend his 
 Lordship's character on principles which bore the most 
 honourable testimony to her own, his eyes rivetted them- 
 selves on her face. 
 
 Though a large Turkish shawl involved her fine person, 
 a modest grace was observable in every Umb. Her exqui-
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 229 
 
 sitely turned arm, rather veiled than concealed by the muslin 
 sleeve that covered it, was extended towards Euphemia in 
 the energy of her defence ; her beautiful eyes shone with 
 benevolence, and her rosy lips seemed to breathe balm 
 whilst she spoke. 
 
 Thaddeus did not withdraw his fixed eyes until they 
 encountered those of Miss Beaufort, which immediately 
 retreated with a deep blush covering her face and neck. 
 She never had met such a look before ; — except from the 
 dark and penetrating glances of her cousin, who had long 
 elected himself the guardian of her heart. 
 
 Miss Beaufort was the orphan heiress of Admiral Beau- 
 fort, the only brother of the late Lady Somerset. Her 
 parents dying at an early age, bequeathed her to the xare of 
 Lady Somerset, her paternal aunt ; and nominated Sir 
 Robert Somerset, her Ladyship's husband, to be her sole 
 guardian. 'When Lady Somerset died, which happened 
 three days before her son's arrival from the Continent, a 
 double portion of Sir Robert's love fell upon his niece. In 
 her society alone he lound comfort : and relinquishing the 
 splendid scenes of London, he retired into the country ; 
 living sometimes at one seat, and sometimes at another ; in 
 hopes by change of place to dissipate the grief that preyed 
 upon his heart. 
 
 Sir Robert Somerset, from the time of his marriage with 
 Miss Beaufort, to the hour in which he followed her to the 
 grave, attracted esteem and affection from people of every 
 rank. The fascination of his manners, united with the 
 inflexible probity of his character, both as a man and as a 
 senator, drew after him the confidence of all men. The 
 good, and even the bad, looked on him as a pillar of strength, 
 w'henever reUance was to be allied with virtue. For instance, 
 the excellent Lord Arun consigned his only child to his 
 protection ; and that sordid pecidator. Sir Hector Dundas, 
 named Sir Robert Somerset to be sole trustee of the immense 
 fortunes of his wife and daughters. 
 
 This latter circumstance explains the intimacy between 
 two families, the female parts of which might otherwise 
 never have met. 
 
 On Sir Robert's last visit to London, Lady Dundas 
 Q 3
 
 230 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 became so urgent in requesting Miss Beaufort to pass the 
 ensuing season with her in town, that he could not, with- 
 out absolute rudeness, refuse. In compliance with this 
 arrangement. Miss Beaufort, accompanied by Mrs. Dorothy 
 Somerset, a maiden sister of the Baronet's, quitted Deer- 
 hurst, and settled themselves in Harley Street for the 
 remainder of the winter ; — at least, the winter of fashion ; 
 which, by a strange effect of her magic hand, in defiance of 
 grassy meadows, leafy trees, and sweetly scented flowers, 
 extends its nominal sceptre over the vernal months of April, 
 May, and even the rich treasures of " resplendent June." 
 
 The summer part of this winter, Miss Beaufort reluc- 
 tantly consented should be sacrificed to ceremony, in the 
 dust and heat of a great city ; and if the melancholy, which 
 daily increased upon Sir Robert since the death of his wife, 
 had not rendered her averse to oppose his wishes, she cer- 
 tainly would have made objections to the visit. 
 
 During the journey she coiUd not refrain from drawing a 
 comparison between the insipid routine of Lady Dundas's 
 way of life, and the rational as well as splendid arrangement 
 of her late aunt's. 
 
 Lady Somerset's monthly assemblies were not only the 
 most elegant and brilliant parties in town, but her weekly 
 conversaziones surpassed every thing of the kind in the 
 kingdom. On these nights her Ladyship's rooms used to 
 be filled with the most eminent characters which England 
 could produce. There, the young Mary Beaufort hstened 
 to pious divines of every Christian persuasion. There she 
 gathered wisdom from real philosophers ; and in the society 
 of our best living poets, cherished an enthusiasm for all that 
 is great and good. On these evenings Sir Robert Somerset's 
 house reminded the visitor of what he had read or imagined 
 of the School of Athens. He beheld, not only sages, 
 soldiers, statesmen, and poets, but intelligent and amiable 
 women. And in this rare assembly did the beautiful Mary 
 imbibe that steady reverence of virtue and talent, which no 
 intermixture with the ephemera of the day could ever after 
 either displace or impair. 
 
 Notwithstanding this freedom from the chains with which 
 her fashionable advisers would have shackled her mind. Miss
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 231 
 
 Beaufort possessed too much judgment and delicacy to flash 
 her liberty in their eyes. Enjoying her independence with 
 meekness, she held it more secure. Mary was no declaimer; 
 not even in defence of oppressed goodness, or injured genius. 
 Aware that direct opposition often incenses malice, she 
 directetl the shaft from its aim, if it were in her power ; 
 and when the attempt failed, strove by respect or compas- 
 sion to heal the wound she could not prevent. Thus, 
 whatever she said or did, bore the stamp of her soul, 
 whose leading attribute was modesty. By having learnt 
 much, and thought more, she proved in her conduct that 
 reflection is the alchymy which turns knowledge into 
 wisdom. 
 
 Never did Miss Beaufort feel her powers fail her when 
 she wished to come forward in support of the oppressed, 
 until she witnessed Thaddeus Sobieski standing under the 
 overbearing insolence of Miss Dundas's parasites. — But she 
 perceived that his dignified composure rebounded their darts 
 upon his insulters, and respect took the place of pity. — The 
 situation was new to her ; and Avhen she dropped her con- 
 fused eyes beneath his unexpected gaze, she marvelled 
 within herself at the ease with which she had just taken up 
 the cause of Lord Berrington ; and the difficulty she had 
 found to summon one word as a repellant, to the unmerited 
 attack on the man before her. 
 
 Euphemia cared nothing about Lord Berrington ; to her, 
 his faults or his virtues were alike indifferent ; and forget- 
 ting that civility demanded some reply to Miss Beaufort's 
 last observation ; or rather taking advantage of the tolerated 
 privilege usurped by many high-bred people, of being ill- 
 bred, when and how they please ; she returned to Thaddeus, 
 and said with a forced smile — 
 
 " Mr. Constantine, I don't like your opinion upon the 
 ode I showed to you ; I think it a very absurd opinion ; or 
 perhaps you did not conceive me rightly ? " 
 
 Miss Beaufort took up a book, that her unoccupied atten- 
 tion miglit not disturb their studies. 
 
 Euphemia resumed, with a more natural dimple, and 
 touching his glove with the rosy points of her fingers— 
 Q 4
 
 232 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " You are stupid at translation." 
 
 Thaddeus coloured^ and sat luieasily ; he knew not how 
 to evade this direct, though covered attack. 
 
 " I am a bad poet, madam. Indeed, it would be danger- 
 ous for a good one to attempt the same path with Sappho 
 and Phillips." 
 
 Euphemia now blushed as deeply as the Count, but from 
 another motive ; and opening her grammar, whispered, 
 " You are either a very dull, or a very modest man ! " and 
 sighing, began to repeat her lesson. 
 
 Whilst he bent his head over the sheet he was correct- 
 ing, she suddenly exclaimed, " Bless me, Mr. Constantine, 
 what have you being doing ? I hope you don't read in bed! 
 
 The top of your hair is burnt to a cinder ! "Why, you 
 
 look much more like one who has been in a fire, than Miss 
 Beaufort does." 
 
 Thaddeus put his hand to his head. 
 
 " I thought I had brushed away all marks of a fire, in 
 which 1 really was last night." 
 
 " A fire ! " interrupted Miss Beaufort, closing her book, 
 /' was it near Tottenham-court-road ? " 
 
 " It was, madam," answered he^ in a tone almost as sur- 
 prised as her own. 
 
 "Good gracious!" cried Euphemia, exerting her little 
 voice, that she might be heard before Miss Beaufort could 
 have time to reply; " then I vow, you are the gentleman 
 who. Miss Beaufort said, ran into the burning house, and, 
 covered with flames, saved two children from perishing ! " 
 
 " Am I so happy as to meet the lady," replied he, turn- 
 ing with an animated air to Miss Beaufort, " in you, ma- 
 dam, who so humanely assisted the poor sufferers, and 
 received the child from my arms ? " 
 
 " It was, indeed, myself, Mr. Constantine," returned she, 
 a tear swimming over her eye, which in a moment gave the 
 cue to the tender Euphemia. She drew out her handker- 
 chief ; and whilst her pretty cheeks overflowed, and her 
 sweet voice was rendered sweeter by an emotion raised by 
 ten thousand delightful fancies, she took hold of Miss Beau- 
 fort's hand.
 
 I'HADDEtS OF WARSA^T. 233 
 
 " O ! my lovely friend, wonder not that I esteem this 
 brave Constantine far beyond his present station ! " 
 
 Thaddeus drew back. Miss Beaufort looked amazed ; 
 but Euphemia had mounted her romantic Pegasus, and the 
 scene Avas too sentimental to close. 
 
 " Come here, Mr. Constantine," cried she, extending her 
 other hand to his. \\^ondering where this folly would ter- 
 minate, he gave it to her ; when, instantly joining it with 
 that of Miss Beaufort, she pressed them together, and said, 
 " Sweet Mary I heroic Constantine ! I thus elect you the 
 two dearest friends of my heart. So charmingly associated 
 in the delightful task of compassion, you shall ever be com- 
 mingled in my faithful bosom." 
 
 Then putting her handkerchief to her eyes, she walked 
 out of the room, leaving Miss Beaufort and the Count, 
 confused and confounded, by the side of each other. Miss 
 Beaufort, suspecting that some extravagant passion sub- 
 sisted between Euphemia and her yomig tutor, declined 
 speaking first. Thaddeus, fixing his gaze on her downcast 
 and revolving countenance, perceived nothing like offended 
 pride at his undesigned presumption. He saw that she 
 was only embarrassed ; and after a minute's hesitation broke 
 the silence. 
 
 " I hope that Miss Beaufort is sufficiently acquainted 
 with the romance of Miss Euphemia's character, to par- 
 don the action, unintentional on my part, of having touched 
 her hand ? I declare I had no expectation of Miss Euphe- 
 mia's design." 
 
 " Do not make any apology to me, Mr. Constantine," 
 returned she, resuming her seat : " to be sure I was a lit- 
 tle electrified by the strange situation in Avhich her vivid 
 feelings have just made us actors. But I shall not forego 
 my claim on what she promised — your acquaintance ?" 
 
 Thaddeus expressed his high sense of her condescen- 
 sion. 
 
 " I am not fond of fine terms," continued she, smiling ; 
 " but 1 know that time and merit must purchase esteem, 
 I can engage for the first, as I am to remain in town at 
 least three months ; but for the last, 1 fear 1 shall never
 
 234 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 have the opportunity of giving such an earnest of my merit 
 as you did last night of yours." 
 
 Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Thaddeus took up his 
 hat, and bowing, repUed to her compHment with such a 
 modest yet noble grace, that she gazed after him with 
 wonder and concern. Before he closed the door he again 
 bowed. Pleased with the transient look of pleasure which 
 beamed from eyes, through whose ingenuous mirrors every 
 thought of his soul might be read — she smiled a second 
 adieu; and as he disappeared, left the room by another 
 passage. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 When the Count appeared the succeeding day in Harley 
 Street, Miss Beaufort introduced him to Mrs. Dorothy So- 
 merset, as the gentleman who had so gallantly preserved the 
 Uves of the children at the hazard of his own. 
 
 Notwithstanding the lofty tossings of Miss Dundas's 
 head, the good old maid paid him several encomiums on 
 his intrepidity ; and telling him, that the sufferers were the 
 wife and family of a poor tradesman who was gone into the 
 country, she added, " but we saw them comfortably lodged 
 before we left them ; and, all the time we stayed, I could 
 not help congratulating myself on the easy compliance of 
 Mary with my whims. I hate to sleep at an inn ; and to 
 prevent it then, I had prevailed on Miss Beaufort to pur- 
 sue our road to town even through the night. It was lucky 
 it hajipened so, for I am certain Mary will not allow these 
 poor creatures a long lament over the wreck of their little 
 property." 
 
 " How charmingly charitable, my lovely friend !" cried 
 Euphemia ; *' let us make a collection for this unfortunate 
 woman and her babes. Pray, as a small tribute, take that 
 from me ! " She put five guineas into the hand of the 
 blushing Mary.
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. • 235 
 
 The ineffable grace with which the confused Miss Beau- 
 fort laid the money on her aunt's knee, did not escape the 
 observation of Thaddeus ; neither did the animated appro- 
 bation of his eye pass unnoticed by the amiable object of 
 his attention. 
 
 ^V'lien Lady Tinemouth was informed by the Count of 
 the addition to the Harley Street party, she declared her 
 pleasure at the news ; saying, that slie had been well ac- 
 quainted with Mrs. Dorothy and her niece, duiing the 
 lifetime of Lady Somerset. 
 
 As tlie Countess paused, Thaddeus was on the point of 
 expressing his concern that Pembroke had lost his highly 
 prized mother ; but recollecting that Lady Tinemouth was 
 ignorant of their knowing each other, he allowed her to 
 proceed without a remark. 
 
 " I never have been in company with Sir Robert's son," 
 continued the Countess : " it was during his absence on the 
 Continent, that I was introduced to Lady Somerset. She 
 was a woman who possessed the rare talent of conforming 
 herself to all descriptions of people ; and whilst the com- 
 placency of her attentions surpassed the most refined flat- 
 tery, she commanded the highest veneration for herself. 
 Hence you may imagine my satisfaction in an acquaintance, 
 which it is probable would never have been mine had I 
 been the happy Countess of Tinemouth, instead of a 
 deserted wife. Though the Somersets are related to my 
 Lord, they had long treated him as a stranger ; and doubly 
 disgusted at his late behaviour, they commenced a friend- 
 ship with me ; I believe, to demonstrate more fully their 
 detestation of him. Indeed, my husband is a creature of 
 inconsistency. No man possessed more power to attract 
 friends than Lord Tinemouth ; and no man possessed less 
 power to retain them ; as fast as he made one, he offended 
 the other ; and has at last deprived himself of every indi- 
 vidual out of his own house, who would not regard his death 
 as a fortunate circumstance."' 
 
 " But, Lady Somerset ? " cried Thaddeus, impatient to 
 
 change a subject, every word of which was a dagger to his 
 
 heart, " I mean jNIiss Dorothy Somerset, Miss Beaufort — " 
 
 " Yes," returned her Ladyship ; *■' I see, kind Mr. Con-
 
 S36 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 stantine, your friendly solicitude to disengage me from 
 retrospections so painful ! Well then, 1 knew, and very 
 much esteemed, the two ladies you mention ; but the death 
 of Lady Somerset, and their consequent residence in the 
 country, have prevented a renewal of this pleasure. How- 
 ever, as they' are now in town, I will thank you to ac- 
 quaint them with my intention to call upon them in Har- 
 ley Street. I remember thinking Miss Beaufort a very 
 charming girl." 
 
 Thaddeus thought so too: he saw that she was beautiful j 
 he had witnessed instances of her goodness ; and the recol- 
 lection filled his mind with a complacency the more tender, 
 since it had so long been a stranger to his bosom. But fur- 
 ther observations were prevented by the entrance of Miss 
 Egerton, and Lady Sara Roos. 
 
 " I am glad to see you, Mr. Constantine," cried the 
 lively Maria, shaking hands with him : " you are the very 
 man I have been plotting against." 
 
 Lady Tinemouth was uneasy at the care with which 
 Lady Sara averted her face; well knowing that it was to 
 conceal the powerful agitation of her features, which always 
 took place at the sight of Thaddeus. 
 
 " What is your plot. Miss Egerton } " enquired he : 
 '' I shall consider myself honoured by your commands ; 
 and do not require a conspiracy to entrap my obedience." 
 
 " That's a good boy ! Then I have only to apply to you. 
 Lady Tinemouth. Your Ladyship must know," cried she, 
 " that as Lady Sara and I were a moment ago driving up 
 the Hay-market, I nodded to ?»Ir. Coleman, who was 
 coming out of the Play-house. He stopped, I pulled the 
 check-string, and we had a great deal of confab out of the 
 window. He tells me, a new farce is to come out this day 
 week ; and he hoped I would be there ! ' No,' says I, ' I can- 
 not; for I am on a visit with that precise woman the 
 Countess of Tinemouth, who would not, to save you and 
 all your generation, come into such a mob.' — ' Her Ladyship 
 shall have my box,' cried he; ' for I would not for the world 
 lose the honour of your opinion on the merits of my farce.' — 
 * To be sure not ! ' cries 1 ; so I accepted his box, and drove 
 off, jilotting with Lady Sara, how to get your Ladyship as
 
 THADDEUS OF 'WAns.wr. 237 
 
 a chaperon, and j\Jr. Constantine for our beau. He has 
 promised ; so, dear Lady Tinemouth, don't be inflexible !" 
 
 Thaddeus was confounded at the dilemma into which Ids 
 ready acquiescence had involved his prudence. 'J"he Coun- 
 tess shook her liead. 
 
 " Now, I declare. Lady Tinemouth," exclaimed Miss 
 Egerton, " this is an absolute stingy fit ! You are afraid of 
 your purse ! You know this private box precludes all awk- 
 ward meetings, and you can have no excuse." 
 
 " But it cannot preclude all awkward sights, " answered 
 her Ladyship. " You know, Maria, I never go into public 
 for fear of being shocked by the angry looks of my Lord or 
 son." 
 
 " Plague them both ! " cried Miss Egerton pettishly : 
 " I wish the Lord would take your Lord and son out of the 
 world altogether ! " 
 
 " Maria !" retorted her Ladyship, with a grave air. 
 
 " Rebuke me. Lady Tinemouth, if you like : I confess I 
 am no Serena ; and these trials of temper dont agree with 
 my constitution. There," cried she, throwing a silver 
 medal on the table, and laughing in spite of herself, " there 
 is our passport ; but I will send it back, and so break poor 
 Coleman's heart." 
 
 " Fie, Maria," answered her Ladyship, patting her half- 
 angry cheek, " would you owe to your petulance what was 
 denied to your good humour ? " 
 
 " Then your Ladyship will go ! " exclaimed she, exult- 
 ingly : " you have yielded ; these suUens were a part of my 
 stratagem ; and I won't let you recede." 
 
 Lady Tinemouth thought this would be a good oppor- 
 tunity to show one of the theatres to her young friend, with- 
 out involving him in expense or obligation ; and, accord- 
 ingly, she ratified her consent. 
 
 " Do you intend to favour us with your company. Lady 
 Sara .'' " asked the Countess, with a hope she would refuse. 
 
 Lady Sara, who had been standing silently at the window, 
 rather proudly answered — 
 
 " Yes, madam, if you will lionour me with your pro- 
 tection." 
 
 Lady Tinemouth was the only one present who under-
 
 238 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 stood the resentment which these words conveyed ; and, 
 almost beheving that she had insulted her, by implying sus- 
 picion, she approached her with a pleading anxiety of coun- 
 tenance ; " Then, Lady Sara, perhaps you will dine with 
 me ? I mean to call on Mrs. Dorothy Somerset, and invite 
 her to be of the party." 
 
 Lady Sara courtesied her acceptance of the invitation, 
 and smiling, appeared to think no more of the matter. But 
 she neither forgot it, nor found herself able to forgive Lady 
 Tinemouth, for having betrayed her into a confidence, which 
 her own turbulent passions had made but too easy. She 
 had listened unwillingly to the reasonable declaration of 
 the Countess, that her only way to retreat from an error, 
 which threatened criminality, was to avoid the object. 
 
 " AVhen a married woman," observed her Ladyship, " is 
 so unhappy as to love any man beside her husband, her only 
 safety rests in the resolution to quit his society, and to 
 banish his image whenever it obtrudes." 
 
 Lady Sara believed herself incapable of this exertion, and 
 hated the woman who thought it necessary. By letter and 
 conversation. Lady Tinemouth tried to display in every 
 possible light the enormity of giving encouragement to such 
 an attachment ; and ended with urging the consideration of 
 her duty to Heaven. 
 
 Of this argument Lady Sara knew little. She never re- 
 flected on the nature of her Creator ; though she sometimes 
 went to church, repeated the prayers, without being con- 
 scious of their spirit ; and, when the coughing, sneezing, 
 and blowing of noses, which commonly accompany the text, 
 subsided, she generally called up the remembrance of the 
 last ball, or an anticipation of the next assembly, to amuse 
 herself until the prosing business was over. From church 
 she drove to the Park, where, bowling round the ring, or 
 sauntering in the gardens, she soon forgot that there ex- 
 isted in the universe a Power of higher consequence to 
 please, than her own vanity — and the admiration of the 
 spectators. 
 
 Lady Sara would have shuddered at hearing any one 
 declare himself a deist, much more an atheist ; but for any 
 ipflucnce which her nominal belief held over her desires.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 239 
 
 she might as well have been either. She never committed 
 an action deserving the name of premeditated injury ; nor 
 went far out of her way, to do her best friend a service ; 
 not because she wanted incUnation, but she ceased to re- 
 member both the petitioner and his petition before he had 
 been five minutes from her sight. She had read as much 
 as most fine ladies have read : a few histories, a few volumes 
 of essays, a few novels, and now and then a little poetry, 
 comprised the whole range of her studies ; these, with 
 morning calls, and evening assemblies, occupied her whole 
 day. Such had been the routine of her life, until she met 
 the Count Sobieski at Lady Tinemouth's ; which event 
 caused a total revolution in her mind and conduct. 
 
 The strength of Lady Sara's understanding might have 
 credited a better education ; but her passions bearing an 
 equal power with this vigour, and having taken a wrong 
 direction, she neither acknowledged the will, nor the capa- 
 bihty, to give the empire to her reason. When Love entered 
 her heart, its first conquest was her vanity ; she surren- 
 dered all her admirers, in the hope of securing the admiration 
 of Thaddeus : its second victory mastered her discretion ; 
 she revealed her unhappy affection to Lady Tinemouth, and 
 more than hinted it to himself. What had she else to lose ? 
 she believed her honour to be safer than her Ufe. Her 
 honour was the term. She had no conception, or, at best, 
 a faint one, that a breach of the marriage- vow could be an 
 outrage on the laws of Heaven. The word Sin has been 
 gradually banished the oligarchy of fashion, from the hour 
 in which Charles the Second and his profligate court trod 
 down piety with hypocrisy — to this day, when the new 
 philosophy, having accomplished its total outlawry, de- 
 nounced it a rebel to decency and the freedom of man. 
 
 Thus the Christian religion being driven from the haunts 
 of the great, pagan morality is raised from that prostration 
 where, Dagon-like, it fell at the feet of the Scriptures, and 
 is again erected as the idol of adoration. Guilt against 
 Heaven fades before the decrees of man ; his law of ethics 
 reprobates crime j but crime is only a temporary trans- 
 gression, in opposition to the general good ; it draws no 
 consequent punishment heavier than the anger of the offended
 
 240 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 parties. Morality neither promises rewards after death, nor 
 denounces future chastisement for error. The disciples of 
 this independent doctrine hold forth instances of the per- 
 fectibUity of human actions, produced by the unassisted de- 
 cisions of human intellect on the limits of right and wrong. 
 They admire virtue^ because it is beautiful. They practise 
 it, because it is heroic. They do not abstain from the gra- 
 tification of an intemperate wish, under a belief that it is 
 sinful ; but in obedience to their reason, which rejects the 
 commission of a vicious act, because it is uncomely. In the 
 first case, God is their judge ; in the latter, themselves. 
 The comparison need only be proposed, to humble the pride 
 that made it necessary. How do these systematisers refine 
 and subtilise ? How do they dwell on the principle of virtue, 
 and turn it in every metaphysical light, until their philo- 
 sophy rarifies it to nothing ! Some degrade, and others 
 abandon, the only basis on which an upright character can 
 stand with firmness. The bulwark, which Revelation 
 erected between the passions and the soul, is levelled first ; 
 and then that instinctive rule of right, which the modern 
 casuist nominates the citadel of virtue, falls of course. 
 
 By such gradations the progress of depravity is accom- 
 plished ; and the general leaven having worked to Lady 
 Sara's mind on such premises (though she might not arrange 
 them so distinctly), she deduced that what is called conjugal 
 right is a mere establishment of man, and might be extended 
 or limited by him to any length he pleased. For instance, 
 the Turks were not content with one wife, but appropriated 
 hundreds to one man ; and because such indulgence was 
 jiermitted by Mohammed, no other nation presumed to call 
 them culpable. 
 
 Hence she thought, that if she could once reconcile her- 
 self to believe that her own happiness was dearer to her, 
 than the notice of half a thousand people to whom slie was 
 indifferent ; that only in their opinion and the world's, her 
 flying to the jirotection of Thaddeus would be a crime ; 
 could slie confidently think this, what should deter her 
 from instantly throwing herself into the arms of the man 
 she loved ? 
 
 " Ah ! " cried she, one night, as she traversed her cham-
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 241 
 
 ber in a paroxysm of tears, " what are the vows I have 
 sworn ? How can I keep them ? I have sworn to love, 
 to honour Captain Roos ; but in spite of myself, witliout 
 any action of my own, I have broken both these oaths. I 
 cannot love him ; I hate him ; and I cannot honour the 
 man I hate. AVliat have I else to break } Nothing. My 
 nuptial vow is as completely annihilated, as if I had left 
 him never to return. — How?" cried she, after a pause of 
 some minutes, " how shall I know what passes in the mind 
 of Constantine ? Did he love me, would he protect me, I 
 would brave the whole universe ; oh, I should be the hap- 
 piest of the happy ! " 
 
 Fatal conclusion of reflection ! It infected her dream- 
 ing and her waking fancy. She regarded every thing as 
 an enemy that opposed her passion ; and, as the first of 
 these enemies, she detested Lady Tinemoulh. The Count- 
 ess's last admonishing letter enraged her by its arguments ; 
 and, throwing it into the fire with execrations and tears, she 
 determined to pursue her own will, but to affect being influ- 
 enced by her Ladyship's counsels. 
 
 The Count Sobieski, who surmised not the hundredth 
 part of the love which Lady Sara bore him, began to hope 
 that her ardent manner had misled him ; or that she had 
 seen the danger of such imprudence. 
 
 Under these impressions the party for the theatre was 
 settled ; and Thaddeus, after sitting an hour in Grosvenor 
 Place, returned to his humble home and attendance on his 
 friend. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 The addition of Mrs. Dorothy Somerset and Miss Beaufort 
 to the morning group at Lady Duudas's imparted a less 
 reluctant motion to the before tardy feet of the Count, when- 
 ever he turned them towards Harlcy Street. 
 
 Mrs. Dorothy readily supposed him to have been better 
 
 R
 
 242 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 born than he appeared ; and displeased with the treatment 
 he received from Miss Dundas and her guests, behaved to 
 him herself with the most gratifying politeness. 
 
 Aunt Dorothy (for that was the title by which every 
 branch of the Baronet's family addressed her) was full 
 twenty years the senior of her brother Sir Robert Somerset. 
 Having in her youth been thought very like the famous and 
 lovely ]\Irs. Woffington, she was considered the beauty of 
 her time ; and as such for ten years continued the reigning 
 toast. Nevertheless she arrived at the age of sixty-five 
 without having been either the object, or the subject, of a 
 fervent passion. 
 
 Possessing a fine understanding, a fine taste, and fine 
 feelings, by some chance she had escaped love. It cannot 
 be denied that she was much admired, much respected, and 
 much esteemed ; and that she received two or three splen- 
 did proposals from men of rank. Some of those men she 
 admired, some she respected, and some she esteemed, but 
 not one did she love ; and she successively refused them 
 all. Shortly after their discharge, they generally consoled 
 themselves by marrying other women, who perhaps wanted 
 both the charms and the sense of Miss Somerset ; yet she 
 congratulated them on their choice, and usually became the 
 warm friend of the happy couple. 
 
 Thus year passed over year; Miss Somerset continued 
 the esteemed of every worthy heart, though she could not 
 kindle the embers of a livelier glow in any one of them : and 
 at the age of sixty-five she found herself an old maid ; but 
 possessing as much good humour, and affection towards the 
 young people about her, as if she had half a dozen of her 
 own offspring to mingle in the circle. 
 
 This amiable old lady usually took her netting into the 
 library beside the fair students ; and whenever Thaddeus 
 entered the room (so natural is it for generous natures to 
 sympathise), his eyes first sought her venerable figure; then 
 glancing around to catch an assuring beam from the hea- 
 venly countenance of the lovely Mary, he seated himself 
 with confidence. 
 
 The presence of these ladies operated as a more than suf- 
 ficient antidote to the disagreeables of his situation. To
 
 THAnDEUS OF WARSA^V. 243 
 
 tliem lie directed all the attention that was not required 1)y 
 his occupation ; he heard only them speak, when a hundred 
 others were talking ; he saw only them, when a hundred 
 others were in company. 
 
 In addition to this pleasant change, INIiss Euphemia's 
 passion assumed a less tormenting form. She had heen 
 reading Madame d'Arblay's Camilla; and becoming en- 
 amoured of the delicacy and pensive silence of the interesting 
 heroine, she determined on adopting the same character ; 
 and at the same time taking it into her ever-creative brain, 
 that Constantine's coldness bore a striking affinity to the 
 caution of Edgar Mandelbert, she wiped the rouge from her 
 face, and prepared to ''let conceulmoit, like a icorm in the 
 hud, feed oii her damask eheek." 
 
 To afford decorous support to this fancy, her gayest 
 clothes were thrown aside to make way for a negligence of 
 apparel, which cost her two hours each morning to compose. 
 Pier dimpling smiles were now quite banished. She was 
 ever sighing, and ever silent, and ever lolling and leaning 
 about ; reclining along sofas, or in some pretty disconsolate 
 attitude grouping herself with some marble urn, and sitting 
 " like Patienee on a mouinnent siniliiig at grief." 
 
 Thaddeus preferred this pathetic whim before her former 
 love-like advances ; as it afforded him quiet, and relieved 
 him from much embarrassment. 
 
 Every succeeding visit induced INIiss Beaufort to observe 
 him with nicer accuracy, and a more lively interest. The 
 nobleness, yet humility, with which he behaved towards 
 herself and her aunt ; and the manly serenity with which 
 he suffered the insulting sarcasms of Miss Dundas, led her 
 not merely to conceive, but to entertain many doubts, that 
 his present situation Avas that of his birth. 
 
 The lady visiters who dropped in on the sisters' studies 
 were not backward in espousing the game of ridicule, as it 
 played away a few minutes to join in a laugh with the icittii 
 Diana. The gracious beings thought their sex gave them 
 privilege to offend ; but it was not always that the gentle- 
 men durst venture beyond a shrug of the shoulder, a drop 
 of the lip, a wink of the eye, or a raising of the brows. 
 Mary observed with contempt they were prudent enough 
 B 2
 
 244; THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 not to exercise even these specimens of hostility^ but when 
 the Count had turned his back ; and regarding him with 
 increased admiration, she was indignant, and then disdain- 
 ful, at the envy which actuated these men to treat with 
 affected scorn him whom they secretly feared. 
 
 The occasional calls of Lady Tinemouth and Miss Eger- 
 ton stimulated the cabal against Thaddeus. The sincere 
 sentiment of equality with themselves, which these two 
 ladies evinced by their behaviour to him, and the same con- 
 duct being adopted by Mrs. Dorothy and her beautiful niece, 
 besides the evident partiaUty of Euphemia, altogether in- 
 flamed the spleen of Miss Dundas, and excited her coterie 
 to acts of the most extravagant rudeness. 
 
 This little phalanx, at the head of which was the superb 
 Diana, could offer no real reason for disliking a man who 
 was not only their inferior, but who had never offended them 
 even by implication. It was a sufficient apology to their 
 easy consciences, that " he gave himself such courtly airs 
 as were quite ridiculous ; that his presumption was asto- 
 nishing. In short, they were all idle; and it was monstrous 
 amusing to lounge a morning with the rich Dundas's and 
 hoax Monsieur." 
 
 Had Thaddeus known one fourth of the insolent derision 
 with which his misfortunes were treated behind his back, 
 perhaps even his friend's necessity could not have detained 
 him in his employment. The brightness of a brave man's 
 name makes shadows perceptible, which might pass un- 
 marked over a duller surface. Sobieski's delicate honour 
 would have supposed itself sullied by enduring such con- 
 tumely with toleration. But, as was said before, the male 
 adjuncts of Miss Dundas had received so opportune a warn- 
 ing from an accidental knitting of the Count's brow, they 
 never could muster temerity to sport their wit to his face. 
 
 These circumstances were not lost upon Mary ; she col- 
 lected them as part of a treasure, and turned them over on 
 her pillow with the jealous examination of a miser. Like 
 Euphemia, she supposed Thaddeus to be other than he 
 seemed ; yet her fancy did not gift him with the blood of 
 the Bourbons ; she merely believed him to be a gentleman ; 
 and, from the maternal manner of Lady Tinemouth towards
 
 TiiAnnEus OF WARSAW. 245 
 
 hinij suspected that her Ladyship knew more of his history 
 than she chose to reveal. 
 
 Things were in this state when the Countess requested 
 that Mrs. Dorothy would allow her niece to make one in 
 her party to the Ilayinarket Theatre. The good lady hav- 
 ing consented, Miss Beaufort received the permission with 
 pleasure ; and as she was to sup with her Ladyship, she 
 ventured to hope that something might fall from the Coun- 
 tess or Miss Egerton, which would throw a hght on the 
 true situation of Mr. Constantine. 
 
 From infancy Miss Beaufort had loved with enthusiasm 
 all kinds of excellence. Indeed, she esteemed no person 
 warmly whom she did not think exalted by their virtues 
 above the common race of mankind. She sought for some- 
 thing to respect in every character ; and when she found 
 any thing to admire, her ardent soul blazed, and by its own 
 pure flame lit her to a closer inspection of the object about 
 whom she had become interested. 
 
 When Lady Somerset collected all the virtue and talent 
 in the country around her table, they were not brought there 
 on a vain errand. From them Miss Beaufort gathered her 
 best lessons in morality and taste, and from them her earliest 
 perceptions of friendship. Mary was the beloved pupil, and 
 respected friend, of the brightest characters in England; 
 and though they were men, some of whom had not passed 
 the age of forty, she never had been in love, nor had she 
 mistaken the nature of her esteem so far as to call it by that 
 name. Hence she was neither afraid nor ashamed to ac- 
 knowledge a correspondence she knew to be her highest 
 distinction. But had the frank and innocent ]\Iary exhi- 
 bited half the like attentions, Avhich she paid to these men 
 in one hour, to the common class of young men through 
 the course of a month, they would have declared '' the poor 
 girl was over head in love with them ; and have pitied 
 (what they would justly denominate) her folly." Foolish 
 must that woman be, who will sacrifice the most precious 
 gift in her possession to the superficial graces or empty 
 blandishments of a self-idolised coxcomb ! 
 
 Such a being was not Mary Beaufort ; and on these prin- 
 ciples she contemplated the extraordinary merits of the ex- 
 R 3
 
 246' 
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 iled Thaddeus, with an interest honourable to her penetration 
 and her heart. 
 
 "\Fhen Miss Egerton called with Lady Sara lloos to take 
 Miss Beaufort to the Haymarket^ Mary was not displeased 
 at seeing Mr. Constantine step out of the carriage to hand 
 her in. During their drive^ Miss Egerton informed her 
 that Lady Tinemouth had been suddenly seized with the 
 headach ; but that Lady Sara had kindly undertaken to be 
 their chaperon^ and had promised to return with them to 
 sup in Grosvenor Place. 
 
 Lady Sara had never seen Mary^ though she frequently 
 had heard of her beauty and vast fortune. This last qua- 
 lificatiouj her Ladyship hoped, might have given an un- 
 merited edat to the first : therefore when she saw in Miss 
 Beaufort the most beautiful creature she had ever beheld, 
 nothing could equal her surj^rise and vexation. 
 
 The happy lustre that beamed in the fine eyes of Mary, 
 shone like a vivifying influence around her ; a bright glow 
 animated her cheek ; whilst a pleasure, for which she did 
 not seek to account, bounded at her heart, and modulated 
 every tone of her voice to sweetness and enchantment. 
 
 " Syren ! " thought Lady Sara, withdrawing her large 
 dark eyes from her face, and turning them full of dissolving- 
 languor upon Thaddeus, " here are all thy charms directed!" 
 then drawing a sigh, so deep that it made her neighbour 
 start, she fixed her eyes on her fan, and never looked up 
 again until they had reached the playhouse. 
 
 The curtain was raised as the little party seated them- 
 selves in the box. 
 
 " Can any body tell me wdiat the play is?" asked Lady 
 Sara. 
 
 " I never thought of enquiring," replied Maria. 
 
 " I looked in the paper this morning," said Miss Beau- 
 fort, " and I think it is called Sighs, — a translation from a 
 drama of Kotzebue's." 
 
 " A strange title ! " was the general observation, when 
 Mr. Suett, who personated one of the characters, beginning 
 to speak, their attention was summoned to the stage. 
 
 On the entrance of Mr. Charles Kemble in the character 
 of Adelbert, the Count unconsciously turned pale. lie per-
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 247 
 
 ceived by the dress of the actor he was to personate a Pole ; 
 and alarmed at the probability of seeing something to recall 
 recollections he strove to banish, his agitation did not allow 
 him to hear any thing that passed. 
 
 Miss Egerton was not so tardy in the use of her eyes 
 and ears ; but, stretching out her hand to the back of the 
 box, where Thaddeus was standing by Lady Sara's chair, 
 she caught hold of his sleeve. 
 
 " There, Constantine !" cried she, " look at Adelbert ! 
 Now, that is exactly the figure ijou cut in your PoUsh trum- 
 pery two months ago." 
 
 The Count bowed with a forced smile, and glancing at 
 the stage replied — 
 
 " Then, for the first time in my life, I regret having 
 followed a lady's advice ; I think I must have lost by the 
 change." 
 
 " Yes," rejoined she, " you have lost much fur and much 
 embroidery; but you now look much more like a Christian." 
 
 The substance of these speeches was not lost on Mary, 
 who continued with redoubling interest to mai-k the changes 
 his countenance underwent along with the scene. As she 
 sat forward, by a slight turn of her head she could discern 
 the smallest fluctuation in the Count's features ; and they 
 were not a few ; for placing himself at the back of Lady 
 Sara's chair, he leaned over, with his soul set in his eye, 
 watching every motion of Mr. Charles Kemble. 
 
 Mary knew that Constantine was a Polander ; and the 
 surmise she had entertained of his being unfortunate, re- 
 ceived full corroboration at the scene in which Adelbert is 
 grossly insulted by the rich merchant. During the whole 
 of it, she scarcely dared trust her eyes towards his flushed 
 and agitated face. 
 
 The interview between Adelbert and Leopold commenced. 
 When the former was describing his country's miseries with 
 his own, Thaddeus, unable to bear it longer, unobserved by 
 any but Mary, drew back into the box. In a moment or 
 two Mr. Charles Kemble made the following reply to an 
 observation of Leopold's, that " poverty is no dishonour." 
 
 " Certainly none to me ! To Poland, to my struggling 
 country, 1 sacrificed my wealth as I would have sacrificed 
 B 4
 
 248 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 my life, if she had required it. My country is no more ; 
 and we are wanderers on a burdened earth, finding no re- 
 fuge but in the hearts of the humane and virtuous." 
 
 The passion and force of these words could not fail of 
 reaching the ears of Thaddeus. Mary's attention followed 
 them to their object, by the heaving of whose breast she 
 plainly discovered the anguish of their effect. Her heart 
 beat with redoubling violence. How wiUingly would she 
 have approached him, and said something of sympathy, of 
 consolation ! but she durst not ; and she turned away her 
 tearful eye, and looked again towards the stage. 
 
 Lady Sara now stood up ; and hanging over Mary's chair, 
 listened with congenial emotions to the scene between Adal- 
 bert and the innocent Rose. Lady Sara felt it all in her 
 own bosom ; and looking round to catch what was passing 
 in the Count's mind, she beheld him leaning against a cor- 
 ner of the box, with his head inclined to the curtain of the 
 door. " Mr. Constantine ! " almost unconsciously escaped 
 her lips. He started, and discovered by the humidity on 
 his eye-lashes, why he had withdrawn. Her Ladyship's 
 tears were gliding down her cheeks. Miss Egerton, greatly 
 amazed at the oddness of the scene, turned to Miss Beau- 
 fort ; who a moment before having caught a glimpse of the 
 distressed countenance of the Count, could only smile, and 
 bow her head to Maria's observation. 
 
 Who is there that can enter into the secret folds of the 
 heart, and know all its miseries .'' Who participate in that 
 joy which dissolves and rarefies man to the essence of hea- 
 ven ? Soul must mingle with soul, and the ethereal voice 
 of the spirit must s])eak, before these can be comprehended. 
 
 Ready to suffocate with the emotions she repelled from 
 her eyes, Mary gladly affected to be absorbed in the busi- 
 ness of the stage (not one object of which she now saw), 
 and with breathless attention lost not one soft whisper 
 which Lady Sara poured into the ear of Thaddeus. 
 
 " W^liy ? " asked her Ladyship, in a tremulous and low 
 tone ; " why should we seek ideal sorrows, when those of 
 
 our own hearts are beyond alleviation ? Happy Rose ! " 
 
 «ighed her Ladyship. " Constantino," continued she, " do
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 2i9 
 
 not you think that Adelbert is consoled, at least, by the af- 
 fection of that lovely woman ? " 
 
 Like Miss Beaufort, Constantine had hitherto replied 
 with bows only. 
 
 " Come," added Lady Sara, laying her soft hand on his 
 arm, and regarding him with a look of tenderness so un- 
 equivocal that he cast his eyes to the ground, although its 
 sympathy touched his heart ; " Come," repeated she, ani- 
 mated by the faint colour which tinged his cheek, " you 
 know that 1 have tlie care of this party ; and I must not 
 allow our only beau to be melancholy." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Lady Sara," returned he, grate- 
 fully pressing the hand that yet rested on his arm ; " I am 
 not very well. I wish that I had not seen this play ! " 
 
 Lady Sara sunk into the seat from Avhich she had arisen. 
 He had never before taken her hand, except when assisting 
 her to her carriage ; this pressure shook her very soul, and 
 awakened hopes, which rendered her for a moment in- 
 capable of sustaining herself or venturing a reply. 
 
 There was something in the tones of Lady Sara's voice, 
 and in her manner, far more expressive than her words : 
 mutual sighs, which breathed from her Ladyship's bosom, 
 and that of Thaddeus, as they sat down, made a cold shiver 
 run from the head to the foot of Aliss Beaufort. Mary's 
 surprise at the meaning of this emotion caused a second 
 tremour ; and with a palpitating heart she asked herself a 
 few questions. 
 
 (,'ould this interesting young man, whom every person of 
 sense appeared to esteem and respect, could he sully his 
 virtues by participating in a passion with a married woman? 
 No ; it was impossible. 
 
 Notwithstanding this decision, she determined to observe 
 him narrowly ; and be well convinced of his worth, before 
 she permitted him to augment the share of regard which he 
 ah'eady possessed in her bosom. 
 
 'With her head full of these reflections, she awaited the 
 farce, without observing when it appeared. Indeed, none 
 of the party knew any thing about this piece (to see which 
 they had professedly come to the theatre) excepting jNIiss 
 Egerton ; whose ever merry spirits had enjoyed the humour
 
 250 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 of Totum in the play, and now laughed heartily, though un- 
 accompanied, through the ridiculous Avhims of the farce. 
 
 Nothing that passed could totally disengage the mind of 
 the Count from those remembrances which the recent drama 
 had aroused. When the melting voice of Lady Sara, in 
 whispers, tried to recall his attention, by a start only, he 
 evinced his recollection of not being alone. Sensible, 
 however, to the kindness of her motive, he exerted himself ; 
 and by the time the curtain dropt, he had so far rallied his 
 spirits as to be able to attend to the civility of seeing the 
 ladies safe out of the theatre. 
 
 Miss Egerton, laughing, as he assisted her into the car- 
 riage, said, " I verily believe, Mr. Constantine, had I 
 glanced round during the play, I shovdd have seen as pretty 
 a lachrymal scene between you and Lady Sara as any on the 
 stage. I won't have this flirting ! I declare I will tell 
 Captain Roos " 
 
 She continued talking ; but turning about to offer his 
 service to Miss Beaufort, he heard no more. 
 
 IMiss Beaufort felt strangely ; she felt cold and reserved ; 
 and undesignetUy she appeared what she felt. There was 
 a grave dignity in her air, accompanied with a coUectedness 
 and stillness in her before animated countenance, which as- 
 tonished and chilled Thaddeus, though she bowed her 
 head, and gave him her hand to put her into the coach. 
 
 In their way home Miss Egerton ran over the merits of 
 the play and farce ; rallied Thaddeus on the " tall Pole," 
 which she threatened should be his epithet whenever he 
 offended her ; and then flying from subject to subject, 
 talked herself and her hearers so weary, they mutually re- 
 joiced when the carriage stopped in Grosvenor Place. 
 
 After they had severally paid their respects to Lady 
 Tinemouth, who being indisposed was lying along the sofa, 
 she desired Thaddeus to draw a chair near her. 
 
 " I want to learn," said she, " what you think of our 
 English theatre ? " 
 
 " Prithee, don't ask him ! " cried Miss Egerton, pour- 
 ing out a glass of water, " we have seen a tremendous 
 brother Pole of his, who I believe has ' hopped off' with 
 all his spirits ! ^V'hy, he has been looking as rueful as a
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 251 
 
 half-ib-ovvned man, all the night ; and for Lady Sara, — 
 and I could swear JNliss Beaufort, too, they have been two 
 Niobes, ' all tc(u;s.' So, good folks, I must drink better 
 health to you to save myself from the vapours." 
 
 " A\'liat is all this, INIr. Constantine ? " asked the Coun- 
 tess, addressing 'I'haddeus, whose eyes were now fixed with 
 grateful surprise on the blushing, though displeased face of 
 Miss Beaufort. 
 
 "' INIy weakness," replietl he, sighing and turning to her 
 Ladyship : " the play relates to a native of Poland ; one 
 who, like myself, an exile in a strange land, is subjected to 
 sufferings and contumelies the bravest spirits may find hard 
 to bear. Any man may combat misery ; but even the 
 most intrepid will shrink from insult. This I believe is 
 the sum of the story. Its resemblance in some points to 
 my own affected me ; and," added he, looking gratefully at 
 Lady Sara, and timidly towards JVIiss Beaufort, " if these 
 ladies have sympathised with emotions, against which I 
 strove, but could not entirely conceal, I owe to it the 
 sweetest consolation that is now in the power of fate to be- 
 stow ! " 
 
 " Poor Constantine ! " cried Maria Egerton, patting his 
 head with one hand, whilst with the other she wiped a tear 
 from her always smiling eye, " forgive me, if I have hurt 
 you. I hke you vastly, though I must now and then laugh 
 at you ; you know I hate dismals ; so let this tune enliven 
 us all ! " and, flying to her i)iano, she played and sung two 
 or three merry airs, till the Countess commanded her to the 
 supper-table. 
 
 At this most sociable repast of tlie whole day, cheerful- 
 ness seemed again to disperse the gloom which threatened 
 the circle. Thaddeus set the example. His unrestrained 
 and elegant conversation acquired new pathos, from the an- 
 guish that was driven back to his heart ; like the beds of 
 rivers, which infuse their own nature with the current, his 
 hidden grief imparted an undescribable interest and charm 
 to all his sentiments and actions. 
 
 Mary now beheld him in his real character. Unmo- 
 lested by the haughty presence of Miss Dundas, he be- 
 came unreserved, intelligent, and enchanting. He was
 
 252 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 master of every subject ; and discoursed on all with a grace, 
 which corroborated her waking visions that he was as some 
 archangel ruined. 
 
 With the increase of Miss Beaufort's admiration of the 
 Count's fine talents, she gradually lost the recollection of 
 what had occupied her mind relative to Lady Sara ; and 
 her own beautiful covmtenance dilating into confidence 
 and delight, the evening passed away with pleasure until 
 the little party separated for their several homes. 
 
 Lady Tinemouth and Maria were fascinated by the 
 lovely Miss Beaufort. Miss Beaufort was equally pleased 
 with the Countess and her friend ; but when she thought 
 on Thaddeus, she was surprised, interested, charmed. 
 
 Lady Sara Roos's reflections were not less flattering : 
 she dwelt with redoubled passion on that look from the 
 Count's eyes, that touch of his hand, which she thought 
 were signs of a reciprocal flame. Both actions were for- 
 gotten by him the moment after they were committed ; yet 
 he was not ungrateful ; but whilst he acknowledged her 
 attentions, and assented to the loveliness of her form, he 
 saw that she sought to lead him to the brink of a preci- 
 pice, where, if he fell, he must sink to a depth, never to 
 rise again. 
 
 He found a refuge from such dangerous meditation, in 
 the idea of the ingenuous Mary, on whose modest counte- 
 nance Virtue seemed to have " set her seal." Whilst re- 
 collecting the pitying kindness of her voice and looks, his 
 heart owned the empire of purity ; and, in the contem- 
 plation of her unaffected excellence, he soon forgot the 
 witcheries of Lady Sara^ and her seductive love.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 253 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Next morning, when Thaddeus approached the General's 
 bed to give him his coftee, he found him feverish, and his 
 intellects more than usually unsettled. 
 
 The Count awaited with anxiety the arrival of the be- 
 nevolent Cavendish, whom he expected ; and when he ap- 
 peared, he declared his increased alarm. Dr. Cavendish 
 having felt the patient's pulse, expressed a wish tliat he 
 could be induced to take a little exercise. Thaddeus had 
 often urged this necessity to his friend ; and having met 
 with constant refusals, he hopelessly repeated the entreaty 
 now; when to his surprise and satisfaction the old man 
 instantly consented. 
 
 Having seen him comfortably dressed (for the Count 
 attended to these minutia; with the care of a son), the 
 Doctor said they must ride with him to Hyde Park ; 
 where he would put them out to walk until he had made 
 a visit in Piccadilly, when he would return and take them 
 home. 
 
 The General not only expressed pleasure at the ilrive ; 
 but as the air was warm and balmy (it being about the 
 beginning of June), made no objection to the proposed 
 walk. 
 
 He admired the Park, the Serpentine River, the cottage 
 on its bank, and seemed highly diverted by the horsemen 
 and carriages in the ring. The pertinency of his remarks 
 afforded Thaddeus a ray of hope that his senses had not 
 entirely lost their union with reason ; and with awakened 
 confidence he was contemplating what might be the happy 
 effects of constant exercise, when the General's complaints 
 of weariness obliged him to stop near Piccadilly Gate, and 
 wait the arrival of the Doctor's coach. 
 
 He was standing against the railing, supporting Butzou; 
 and with his hat in his hand was shading his friend's face 
 from the sun, when two or three carriages driving in, he 
 met the eyes of Miss Euphemia Dundas ; who pulling the
 
 254 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 check-string, exclaimed, " Bless me, Mr. Constantine ! 
 Who exjiected to see you here ? Why your note told us 
 you were confined with a sick friend." 
 
 Thaddeus bowed to her, and still sustaining the debi- 
 litated frame of the General on his arm, advanced to the 
 side of the coach. Miss Beaufort, who now looked^ out, 
 expressed her hope that his invalid was better. 
 
 " This is the friend I mentioned," said the Coimt, 
 turning his eyes on the mild features of Butzou ; " his 
 physician having ordered him to walk, I accompanied him 
 hither." 
 
 " Dear me ! how ill you look, sir," cried Euphemia, 
 addressing the poor invalid ; " but you are attended by a 
 kind friend." 
 
 " Aiy dear Count !" exclaimed the old man, not regard- 
 ing what she said, " I must go home ; I am tired ; pray 
 call up the carriage." 
 
 Euphemia was again opening her mouth to speak, but 
 Miss Beaufort, perceiving a look of distress in the express- 
 ive features of Mr. Constantine, interrupted her by saying, 
 " Good morning, Mr. Constantine ; I know we detain you, 
 and oppress that gentleman, whose pardon we ought to beg." 
 She bowed her head to the General ; whose white hairs 
 were blowing about his face, as he attempted to pull the 
 Count towards the pathway. 
 
 " My friend cannot thank you, kind Miss Beaufort," 
 cried Thaddeus with a look of gratitude, that called the 
 brightest roses to her cheeks ; " but I do from my heart ! " 
 
 " Here it is ! Pray, my Lord, come along ! " cried But- 
 zou; Thaddeus, seeing that his information was right, 
 bowed to the ladies, and their carriage drove off. 
 
 Though the wheels of Lady Dundas's coach rolled away 
 from the retreating figures of Thaddeus and his friend, the 
 images of both occupied the meditations of Euphemia and 
 Miss Beaufort, whilst, tcte-a-tcte, and in silence, they made 
 the circuit of the Park. 
 
 When the carriage again passed the spot on which the 
 subject of their thoughts had stood, Mary almost mechani- 
 cally looked out towards the gate. 
 
 " Is he gone yet.^" asked Euphemia, sighing deeply.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 2o5 
 
 Mary drew in her head with the quickness of conscious 
 guilt ; and whilst a colour stained her face, which of itself 
 might have betrayed her prevarication, she asked, " W}\o ? " 
 
 " Mr. Constantine," replied Euphemia, with a second 
 sigh. " Did you remark, Mary, how gracefully he sup- 
 ported that sick old gentleman ? Was it not the personifi- 
 cation of Youth upliolding the fainting steps of Age .'' He 
 put me in mind of the charming young prince, whose name 
 I forget, leading the old Helisarius." 
 
 " You are an enthusiast, Euphemia ! " returned ^lary, 
 striving to smile ; and wondering within herself what could 
 be the meaning of the appellations with which the old man 
 had addressed Thaddeus. 
 
 " So all tell me," replied Euphemia ; " so all say, who 
 neither possess the sensibility nor the candour to allow, that 
 great merit may exist without being associated with great 
 rank. Yet," cried she in a more animated tone, " I have 
 my doubts, Mary, of his being what he seems. Did you 
 observe the sick gentleman call him 3Iy Lord?" 
 
 " I did," returned Mary, '^ and I was not surprised. 
 Such manners as JMr. Constantine's are not to be acquii-ed 
 in a cottage." 
 
 " Dear, dear Mary," cried Euphemia, flinging her ivory 
 arms round her neck ; " how I love you for these words ! 
 you are generous, you think nobly, and I wiU no longer 
 hesitate to — to — " and breaking oflP, she hid her head in 
 Miss Beaufort's bosom. 
 
 Mary's heart throbbed, her cheeks grew pale, and almost 
 unconsciously, she wished to stop the tide of Miss Dundas's 
 confidence. 
 
 " Dear Euphemia," answered she, " your regard for 
 this interesting exile is very praiseworthy. But beware 
 
 of " she hesitated ; a remorseful twitch in her own 
 
 breast stayed the warning that was rising to her tongue ; 
 and blushing at a motive she could not at the instant assign 
 to friendship, selfishness, or envy, she touched the cheek of 
 Euphemia with her quivering Ups. 
 
 Euphemia had finished the sentence for her, and raising 
 her head exclaimed — " "What should I fear in esteeming 
 Mr. Constantine t Is he not the most captivating creature
 
 256 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 in the world ? And for his person ! Oh, Mary, he is so 
 beautiful, that when the Ubrary is filled with the handsomest 
 men in town, the moment Constantine enters, their reign is 
 over. I compare them with his godlike figure, and I feel 
 as one looking at the sun ; aU other objects appear dim and 
 shapeless." 
 
 " I hope," returned Mary, pressing her forehead with 
 her hand, her head beginning to ache strangely, " that Mr. 
 Constantine does not owe your friendship to his fine per- 
 son ? I think his mental quaUties are more deserving of such 
 a gift." 
 
 " Don't look so severe, dear Mary ! " cried Miss Dun- 
 das, observing her contracting brow ; "are you displeased 
 with me ? " 
 
 Mary's displeasure was at the austerity of her own words, 
 and not at her auditor. Raising her eyes with a smile, she 
 gently replied, " I do not mean, my dear girl, to be se- 
 vere ; but I would wish, for the honour of our sex, that the 
 objects which attract either our love or our compassion, 
 should have something more precious than mere exterior 
 beauty to engage our interest." 
 
 " Well, I will soon be satisfied," cried Euphemia in a 
 gayer tone, as they drove through Grosvenor-Gate : " we 
 aU know that Constantine is sensible and accomplished : 
 he writes poetry Kke an angel, both in French and Italian : 
 I have hundreds of mottoes composed by him : one of 
 them, Mary, is on the work-box I gave you yesterday ; 
 and, what is more, I will ask him to-morrow, why that old 
 gentleman called him My Lord ? If he be a Lord ! " ex- 
 claimed she. 
 
 " What then ? " enquired the eloquent eyes of Mary. 
 
 " Don't look so impertinent, my dear," cried the now 
 animated beauty : " I positively won't say another word to 
 you to-day." 
 
 Miss Beaufort's headach became so painful, she re- 
 joiced when Euphemia ceased, and the carriage drew up to 
 Lady Dundas's door. 
 
 A night of almost unremitted sleep performed such good 
 effects on the frame and intellects of General Butzou, that 
 Dr. Cavendish thought his patient so much better, as to
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 257 
 
 sanction his hoping the best consequences from a constant 
 repetition of air and exercise. When the drive and walk 
 had been repeated the following day, Thaddeus left his 
 friend to his maps and little Nanny, and once more took 
 the way to Harley Street. 
 
 He found only Miss Dundas and her sister in the study. 
 Mary (against her will, Avhich she opposed because it was 
 her will,) went out a shopping with Mrs. Dorothy and 
 Lady Dundas. 
 
 IVIiss Dundas left the room the moment she finished her 
 lessons. 
 
 Delighted at being tete-a-tete with Thaddeus, Euphemia 
 forgot that she was to act the fascinating character of Ma- 
 dame d'Arblay's heroine ; and shutting her book the in- 
 stant Diana disappeared, all at once opened her attack on 
 his confidence. 
 
 To the eager questions which the few words of the 
 General hadexciteil, the Count afforded no other reply than 
 that his poor friend knew not what he said, having been a 
 long time in a state of mental derangement. 
 
 This explanation caused a momentary mortification in the 
 fanciful Euphemia ; but as her busy mind was nimble 
 in its erection of her airy castles, as fast as one sunk another 
 rose ; and she now rallied with the idea, that " he might 
 be a duke, which was more than a lord." At any rate, 
 let him be what he would, he charmed her ; and had much 
 ado to parry the increasing boldess of her speeches, without 
 letting her see they were understood. 
 
 " You are very diffident, Constantine," cried she, look- 
 ing down. " If I consider you worthy of my friendship, 
 why should you make disqualifying assertions ? " 
 
 " Every man, madam," returned Thaddeus, bowing as 
 he rose from his chair, " must be diffident of deserving the 
 honour of your notice." 
 
 " There is no man living," replied she, blushing, " to 
 whom I would offer my friendship but yourself." 
 
 Thaddeus bit his lip ; he knew not what to answer : 
 bowing a second time, he stretched out his hand, and drew 
 his hat towards him. Euphemia's eyes followed the move- 
 ment.
 
 258 THABREUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " Your are in a prodigious haste, Mr. Constantine ! " 
 
 " I know I intrude, madam ; and I have promised to 
 be with my sick friend at an early hour." 
 
 " Well, you may go, since you are obliged," returned 
 the pretty Euphemia, rising and smiling sweetly as she laid 
 one hand on his arm, and put the other into her tucker. 
 She drew out a little white leather souvenir, marked on the 
 back in gold letters with the words, " Toujours cher;" and 
 sUpping it into his hand, " There, receive that, Constan- 
 tine ; and retain it as the first pledge of Euphemia Dun- 
 das's friendship." 
 
 Thaddeus coloured as he took it ; and again having re- 
 course to the convenient reply of a bow, left the room in 
 embarrassed vexation. 
 
 There was an indelicacy in this absolutely wooing conduct 
 of Miss Euphemia, which, notwithstanding her beauty and 
 the softness that was its vehicle, filled him with the deepest 
 disgust. He could not trace real affection, either in her 
 words or manner ; and that any woman instigated by a 
 mere whim, should lay aside the decen t reserves of her sex, 
 and actually court his regard, surprised whilst it impelled 
 him to loathe her. 
 
 They who adopt Euphemia's sentiments, are little aware 
 of the conclusions which society infer from such intemper- 
 ate behaviour. The mistaken creature, who, either at the 
 impulse of her own disposition, or by the influence of 
 example, is induced to despise the guard of modesty, liter- 
 ally " forsakes the guide of her youtli ; " and leaves herself 
 open to every attack which men can devise against her. 
 By levelling the barrier raised by nature, she herself exposes 
 the strong hold of virtue, and may find, too late for re- 
 covery, that what modesty has abandoned, is not long held 
 by honour. 
 
 Euphemia's affected attachment suggested to the Count 
 a few unpleasant recollections respecting the fervent and 
 unequivocal passion of Lady Sara. Though guilty, it 
 sprung from a headlong ardour of disposition which formed 
 at once the error and its palliation. He saw that love was 
 not welcomed by her (at least he thought so) as a play- 
 thing ; but struggled against as Avith a foe ; he had wit-
 
 TIIADDEVS OF WARSAW. 25() 
 
 nesseil her tortures, he pitied them ; and to render her 
 happy would gladly have made any sacrifice short of liis 
 conscience. Too well assured of being all the world to 
 Lady Sara, the belief that Miss Euphemia liked him only 
 from idleness, caprice, and contradiction, caused him to 
 repay her overtures with decided contempt. 
 
 When he arrived at home, he threw on to his table the 
 pocket-book, whose unambiguous motto made him laugh at 
 her and himself ; and looking round his humble room, 
 whose wicker chairs, oil-cloth floor, and uncurtained win- 
 dows, announced any thing but splendour : " Poor Eu- 
 phemia ! " thought he, " how would you be dismayed, 
 were the indigent Constantine really to take you at your 
 word, and bring you home to so cheerless a habitation ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 The repetition of the late scene, which was communicated 
 to j\Iiss Beaufort by Euphemia, failed in producing a simi- 
 lar effect on her. 
 
 jVIary could discover no reason why the old gentleman's 
 mental derangement should dignify liis friend with titles 
 he had never borne. She remarked, that his answer to 
 Euphemia was evasive ; she remembered his emotion and 
 apology on seeing Mr. C. Kemble in Adelbertj and uniting 
 with these facts his manners and acquirements, so far be- 
 yond the charges of vulgar education, she could retain no 
 doubt of his being at least well born. 
 
 This mysterious Constantine occupied her hourly 
 thoughts during the space of two months ; in which time 
 she had full opportunity to learn much of a character, with 
 whom she associated almost every day. At Lady Tine- 
 mouth's (one of whose evening guests she frequently 
 became) she beheld him disencumbered of that armour of 
 reserve which he usually wore in Harley Street. 
 
 At the house of the Countess, Mary saw him Avelcomed 
 like an idolised being, before whose cheering influence all 
 s 2
 
 260 THADREUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 frowns and clouds must disappear. When he entered^ the 
 smile resumed its seat on the languid features of Lady Tine- 
 mouth ; Miss Egerton's eye lighted up to keener archness ; 
 Lady Sara's Circassian orbs floated in pleasure ; and for 
 Mary herself, her breast heaved, her cheeks glowed, her 
 hands trembled, a quick sigh escaped her bosom : and whilst 
 she remained in his presence, she believed that happiness 
 had lost its usual evanescent property, and had become 
 tangible to hold and press upon the heart. 
 
 Mary, who investigated the cause of these tremours on 
 her pillow, bedewed it with delicious though bitter tears, 
 when her alarmed soul whispered that she nourished for 
 this amiable foreigner " a something than friendship 
 dearer." 
 
 "^ Ah! is it to come to this?" cried she, pressing down 
 her saturated eye-lids with her hand. " Am I at last to 
 love a man who perhaps never cast a thought on me ? How 
 despicable shall I become in my own eyes ! " 
 
 The pride of woman puts this charge to her taken 
 heart: that heart, which seems tempered of the purest 
 clay, and warmed with the fire of heaven ; that tender and 
 disinterested heart asks as its appeal — \^Tiat is love .'' Is 
 it not an admiration of all that is beautiful in nature and 
 morality ? Is it not a union of loveliness with truth."* Is 
 it not a passion whose sole object is the rapture of contem- 
 plating the supreme beauty of this combined character ? 
 
 " Where, then," cried the enthusiastic Mary, " where is 
 the shame that can be annexed to my loving Constantine ? 
 If it be honourable to love delineated excellence, it must 
 be equally so, to love it when embodied in a human shape. 
 Such it is in Constantine ; and if love be the reflected light 
 of virtue, I may cease to arraign myself of that I otherwise 
 would have scorned. Therefore, Constantine," cried she, 
 raising her clasped hands, whilst renewed tears streamed 
 over her face, " I will love thee ! I will pray for thy 
 happiness, though its partner should be Euphemia Dundas." 
 
 Mary's eager imagination would not allow her to perceive 
 those obstacles in the shapes of i)ride and prudence, which 
 would stand in the way of his obtaining Euphemia's hand ; 
 its light showed to her only a rival, in the person of the
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WAKSAW. 26'l 
 
 little beauty ; but from her direct confidence^ she continued 
 to retreat with abhorrence. 
 
 Had Euphemia been more deserving of Constantine, 
 ]\Iiss Beaufort believed she would have been less reluctant 
 to hear that she loved him. But Mary could not avoid 
 seeing that Miss E. Dundas possessed little to ensure con- 
 nubial comfort, if mere beauty and accidental flights of 
 good humour were not to be admitted into the scale. She 
 was weak in understanding, timid of principle, absurd in 
 almost every ojjinion she adopted ; and as for love, true, 
 dignified, respectable love, she knew nothing of the passion. 
 
 Whilst Miss Beaufort m.editated on this meagre schedule 
 of her rival's merits, the probability that even such a man 
 as Constantine might sacrifice himself to flattery and 
 splendour stung her to the soul. 
 
 The more she reflected on it, the more she conceived it 
 likely. Euphemia was considered a beauty of the day ; 
 her affectation of refined prettiness pleased many, and 
 might charm Constantine : she was mistress of fifty thou- 
 sand pounds ; and did not esteem it necessary to conceal 
 from her favourite the empire he had acquired. Perhaps 
 there was generosity in this openness .f* If so, what might 
 it not effect on a grateful disposition ? or rather (her 
 mortified heart murmured in the words of her aunt Doro- 
 thy), how might it not operate on the mind of one of that 
 sex, which, at the best, is as often moved by caprice as 
 sentiment ! 
 
 INIary blushed at her adoption of this opinion ; and, 
 angry with herself for the injustice which a lurking jealousy 
 had excited in her, to apply it to Constantine's noble nature, 
 she resolved, whatever might be her struggles, to promote 
 his happiness, even with Euphemia, to the utmost of her 
 power. 
 
 The next morning, when Miss Beaufort opened the 
 study-door, she found Mr. Constantine at his station, 
 literally baited between Miss Dundas and her honourable 
 lover. At such moments ^lary appeared the kindest of 
 the kind. She loved to see Constantine smile ; and when- 
 ever she could produce that effect, by turning the spleen 
 of these polite sueerers against themselves, — his smiles, 
 B 3
 
 262 
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 which entered her heart, afforded her a banquet for hours 
 after his departure. 
 
 Mary drew out her netting (which was a purse for Lady 
 Tinemouth), and taking a seat beside Euphemiaj strove, 
 with her, to occupy his attention entirely ; that he might 
 not catch even one of those insolent glances which were 
 passing between Lascelles and a new ally, the pretty Lady 
 Yilliers. 
 
 This lady seemed to take extreme pleasure in accosting 
 Thaddeus by the appellation of " Friend, My good Man, 
 Mr. What's-your-name," and similar squibs of insult, with 
 which the prosperous assail the unfortunate. Such random 
 shots often inflict the most gaUing wounds. 
 
 However, Friend, My yood man, and Mr. What' s-your- 
 name, disappointed this lady's small artillery of effect. He 
 seemed invulnerable both to her insolence and to her affect- 
 ation ; for to be thought charming, by even Miss Dundas's 
 emigrant tutor, was not to be despised ; though at the very 
 moment in which she desired his admiration, she supposed 
 her haughtiness had impressed him with a proper sense of 
 his own meanness, and a high conception of her dignity. 
 
 She jumped about the room ; assumed infantine airs ; 
 played with Euphemia's lap-dog, fondled it, seated herself 
 on the floor, and swept the carpet with her fine flaxen 
 tresses ; but she performed the routine of captivation in 
 vain. Thaddeus recollected having seen this pretty fuU- 
 grown baby, in her peculiar character of a profligate wife, 
 pawning her own and her husband's property ; he remem- 
 bered this ; and the imited shafts of her charms and folly 
 fell unnoticed to the ground. 
 
 When Thaddeus took his leave. Miss Beaufort, as was 
 her custom, retired for an hour to read in her dressing- 
 room, before she directed her attention to the toilet. She 
 opened a book, and ran over a few pages of De Stael's 
 Treatise on the Passions ; but such reasoning was too ab- 
 stracted for her present frame of mind, and she threw the 
 volume down. 
 
 She dipped her pen in the inkstand. Being a letter in 
 debt to her guardian, she thought she could defray it now. 
 She accomplished " Dear Sir," and stopped. Wliilst she
 
 TilADDEUS OF WARSAW. SGS 
 
 rested on her elbow, and heedless of what she was doing, 
 bit the feather of her quill to pieces ; no other idea offered 
 itself than the figure of Thaddeus, sitting " severe in youth- 
 ful hcautij ! " and surrounded by the contumelies with which 
 the unworthy hope to disparage the merit they can neither 
 emulate nor overlook. 
 
 Uneasy with herself, she pushed the table away ; and 
 leaning her cheek on her arm, gazed into the rainbow va- 
 rieties of a beau-pot of flowers which occupied the Mre-place. 
 Even their gay colours appeared to fade before her sight, 
 and present to her vacant eye the form of Thaddeus, with 
 the melancholy air Avhich shaded his movements. She 
 turned round, but could not disengage herself from the 
 spirit that was within her ; his half-suppressed sighs seemed 
 yet to thrill in her ear, and weigh upon her heart. 
 
 " Incomparable young man ! " cried she, starting up, 
 " why art thou so wretched.'' — Oh ! Lady Tinemouth, why 
 have you told me of his virtues } Why have I convinced 
 myself that what you said is true } Oh ! why was I 
 formed to love an excellence which I never can approach .'' " 
 
 The natural reply to these self-demanded questions sug- 
 gesting itself, she assented with a tear to the whisperings 
 of her heart — that when philosophy would banish the af- 
 fections, it is incapable of filhng their place. 
 
 She rung the bell for her maid. 
 
 " jNIarshall, who dines with Lady Dundas to day ? " 
 
 " I believe, ma'am," replied the girl, " Mr. Lascelles, 
 Lady Villiers, and the ^larquis of Elesmere." 
 
 " I detest them all three ! " cried Mary, with a petulance 
 to which she was little liable ; " ch-ess me how you like, I 
 am indifferent to my appearance." 
 
 Marshall obeyed the commands of her lady, Avho, hoping 
 to dissipate her thoughts, took up the poems of Egerton 
 Brydges. But the attempt only deepened her emotion ; for 
 every line in that exquisite little volume " gwes a very echo 
 to the seat where love is tlironed !" 
 
 She closed the book, and sighed. — ^Marshall having fixed 
 the last pearl-comb in her mistress's beautiful hair, and 
 seeing that something was wrong, exclaimed, " Dear ma'am, 
 s 4
 
 264 
 
 THADDEUS OF ■WARSAW. 
 
 you are so pale to-day ! I wish I might put on some gayer 
 ornaments !" 
 
 " No," returned Mary, glancing a look at her languid 
 features ; " no, Marshall, I appear as well as I desire. Any 
 chance of passing unnoticed in company I despise is worth 
 retaining. No one wiU be here this evening whom 1 care 
 to please," 
 
 She was mistaken ; other company had been invited 
 besides those whom the maid mentioned. But Miss Beau- 
 fort continued from seven o'clock until ten, the period at 
 which the ladies left the table, annoyed to death by the 
 insipid and pert compliments of Lord Elesmere. 
 
 Sick of his subjectless and dragging conversation, she 
 gladly followed Lady Dundas to the drawing-room ; where, 
 opening her netting case, she took her station in a remote 
 corner. 
 
 After half an hour had elapsed, the gentlemen from be- 
 low, recruited by fresh company, thronged in fast ; and, 
 notwithstanding it was styled a family party. Miss Beau- 
 fort saw many new faces — amongst whom she observed an 
 elderly clergyman, who was looking about for a chair. 
 The yawning Lascelles threw himself along the only vacant 
 sofa, just as the gentleman approached it. 
 
 Miss Beaufort immediately resigned her place, and was 
 moving on to another room, when the coxcomb springing 
 up, begged permission to admire her work ; and without 
 permission taking it from her, pursued her, twisting the 
 purse round his fingers, and talking all the while. 
 
 Mary walked forward, smiling with contempt, until they 
 reached the saloon, where the ]\Iisses Dundas were closely 
 engaged in conversation with the Marquis of Elesmere. 
 
 Lascelles, who trembled for his Golconda at this sight, 
 stepped briskly up. Miss Beaufort, who did not wish to 
 lose sight of her purse whilst in the power of such a Lothario, 
 followed him, and placed herself against the arm of the sofa 
 on which Euphemia sat. 
 
 Lascelles now bowed his scented locks to Diana in vain ; 
 Lord Elesmere was describing the last heat at Newmarket, 
 and the attention of neither lady could be withdrawn. 
 
 The beau became so irritated by the neglect of Eu-
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAM', 265 
 
 pliemia, and so nettled at her sister's overlooking hiin^ that, 
 assiuning a gay air, he struck INJiss Dundas's arm a smart 
 stroke with IMiss Beaufort's purse ; and laughing, to show 
 the strong opposition between his broad white teeth, and 
 the miserable mouth of his lordly rival, hoped to alarm 
 him by his familiarity, and to obtain a triumph over the 
 ladies, by degrading them in the eyes of the peer. 
 
 " Miss Dundas," demanded he, " who was that quiz 
 your sister walked with the other day in Portland Place ?" 
 
 " Me ! " cried Euphemia, surprised. 
 
 " Ay," returned he ; " I was crossing from Weymouth 
 Street, when I perceived you accost a strange looking man. 
 You may remember you sauntered with him as far as Sir 
 ^Villiam Miller's. I would have joined you ; but, seeing 
 the family standing in the balcony, I did not choose them 
 to suppose that I perhaps had brought you into such low 
 company." 
 
 " "NMio v,'as it, Euphemia } " enquired Miss Dundas in 
 a severe tone. 
 
 " I wonder he affects to be ignorant," answered her 
 sister, angrily ; he knows very well it was only Mr. Con- 
 stantine." 
 
 " And who is Mr. Constantine ? " demanded the 3Iar- 
 quis. ]\Ir. Lascelles shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " E'faith, my Lord ! a fellow whom nobody knows ; a 
 teacher of languages, giving himself the airs of a prince. 
 A writer of poetry ; and a man who will draw you, your 
 house, and dogs, if you will pay him for it." 
 
 Mary's heart sAvelled. 
 
 " What, a French emigrant ? " drawled his Lordship, 
 dropping his lip ; " and the lovely Euphemia wishes to 
 soothe his sorrows." 
 
 " No, my Lord," stammered Euphemia, " he is — he 
 is " 
 
 •^^ Mliat !" interrupted Lascelles, with a malicious grin, 
 " a wandering beggar, who thrusts himself into a society, 
 which may some day repay his insolence with chastise- 
 ment ! And for the people Avho encourage him, they had 
 better beware of being themselves driven from all good 
 company. Such confouuders of degiees ought to be de-
 
 266 
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 graded from the rank they disgrace. I understand his 
 chief protectress is Lady Tinemouth ; his second. Lady 
 Sara Roos ; who, hy way oi passant le temps, shows she is 
 not quite inconsolable at the absence of her husband." 
 
 Mary, pale and trembling at the scandal his last words 
 insinuated, opened her lips to speak, when Miss Dundas 
 (whose angry eyes darted from her sister to her lover) ex- 
 daimed, " Mr. Lascelles, I know not what you mean. The 
 subject you have taken up is below my discussion ; yet I 
 must confess, if Euphemia ever have disgraced herself so 
 far as to be seen walking with a schoolmaster, she deserves 
 all you have said." 
 
 " And why might I not walk with him, sister ? " asked 
 the poor culprit, suddenly recovering from her confusion, 
 and looking pertly up, '^ who knew that he was not a gen- 
 tleman ? " 
 
 '' Every body, ma'am," interrupted Laseelles ; " and 
 when a young woman of fashion condescends to be seen 
 equalising herself with a creature depending on his wits 
 for support, she is very likely to incur the contempt of her 
 acquaintance, and the censure of her friends." 
 
 " She is, sir," said Mary, holding down her indignant 
 heart, and forcing her countenance to appear serene ; " for 
 she ought to know, that if those men of fashion who have 
 no wits to be either their support or ornament did not 
 proscribe talents from their circle, they must soon find ' the 
 greater glory dim the less.' " 
 
 " True, madam," cried Lord Berrington ; who, having 
 entered during the contest, had been unobserved until this 
 moment ; " and their gold and title would prove but dross 
 and bubble, if struck by the Ithuriel touch of Merit ! " 
 
 Mary turned at the sound of his philanthropic voice, and 
 gave him one of those glances which go immetliately to the 
 soul. 
 
 " Come, Miss Beaufort," cried he, taking her hand, " I 
 see the young musician yonder, who has so recently aston- 
 ished the public. I believe he is going to sing. Let us 
 leave this discordant corner, and seek harmony by his 
 side." 
 
 Mary obeyed the impulse of his arm ; and, seating her-
 
 THADDEVS OF WARSAW. 26? 
 
 self a few paces from the musical party^ Berrington took 
 his station behind her chair. 
 
 AV'hen the last melting notes of " From shades of 
 night" died iipon her ear, Mary's eyes, fuU of an admir- 
 ation and transport which the power of association rendered 
 more intense, remained fixed on the singer. Lord Ber- 
 rington smiled at the vivid expression of her countenance ; 
 and, as the young Orpheus moved from the instrument, ex- 
 claimed, " Come, ]Miss Beaufort, 1 won't allow you quite 
 to fancy Braham the god on whom 
 
 Enamoured Clitic turned and gazed ! 
 
 Listen a little to my merits. Do you know, if it were not 
 for my timely lectures, Lascelles would grow the most in- 
 sufferable gossip about town ? There is not a match nor 
 a divorce near St. James's of which he cannot repeat all 
 the whys and wherefores. I call him Sir Benjamin Back- 
 bite ; and I beheve he hates me worse than the devil." 
 
 " Such a man's dislike," rejoined ^Nlary, " is the highest 
 encomium he can bestow. I never yet heard him speak 
 well of any person who did not resemble himself." 
 
 " And he is not consistent even there," resumed the 
 Viscount : " I am not sure I have always heard him speak 
 in the gentlest terms of JMiss Dundas. Yet, on that, I 
 cannot quite blame him ; for, on my honour, she provokes 
 me beyond any woman breathing." 
 
 " IVIany women," replied Mary, smiling, " would esteem 
 that a flattering instance of power." 
 
 " And, like every thing that flatters," returned he, " it 
 would tell a falsehood. A shrew can provoke the man who 
 detests her. As to Miss Dundas, notwithstanding her 
 parade of learning, she generally espouses the wrong side 
 of the argument; and I may say with somebody, whose 
 name I have forgotten, that any one who knows Diana 
 Dundas never need be at a loss for a woman to call hn- 
 pertinent." 
 
 " You are not usually so severe, my Lord ! " 
 
 " I am not usually so sincere. Miss Beaufort," answered 
 he; "but I see you think for yourself; therefore I make no 
 hesitation in speaking what I think — to you."
 
 268 
 
 THADDKUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 His auditor bowed her head. Lady Dundas at that 
 moment beckoned him across the room. She compelled 
 him to sit down to whist. He cast a rueful glance at 
 Mary, and took a seat opposite to his costly partner. 
 'y " Lord Berrington is a very worthy young man," ob- 
 served the clergyman, to whom, at the beginning of the 
 evening. Miss Beaufort had resigned her chair ; " I pre- 
 sume, madam, you have been honouring him with your 
 conversation ? " 
 
 '' Yes," returned Mary, noticing the benign countenance 
 of the speaker ; " I have not had the pleasure of long 
 knowing his Lordship ; but what I have seen of his cha- 
 racter is highly to his advantage." 
 
 - " I was intimate in his father's house for years," re- 
 joined the gentleman: " I knew this young nobleman from 
 a boy. If he have faults, he owes them to his mother, who 
 doated on him, and rather directed his care to the adorn- 
 ment of his really handsome person, than to the cultivation 
 of talents he has since learned to appreciate." 
 
 " I believe Lord Berrington to be very sensible, and, 
 above all, very humane," returned Miss Beaufort. 
 ; " He is so," replied the old gentleman ; " yet it was 
 not till he had attained the age of twenty-two, that he aj)- 
 peared to know he had any thing to do in the world, be- 
 sides dressing, and attending on the fair. His taste pro- 
 duced the first, whilst the urbanity of his disposition gave 
 birth to the latter. When Berrington arrived at his title, 
 he was about five-and-twenty. Sorrow for the death of 
 his amiable parents, who died in the same month, afforded 
 him leisure to find his reason. He discovered that he had 
 been acting a part beneath him ; and he soon implanted 
 on the good old stock those excellent acquirements which, 
 you see, he possesses. In spite of his regeneration," con- 
 tinued the clergyman, casting a good-humoured glance on 
 the dove-coloured suit of the Viscount, '' you perceive that 
 first impressions will remain. He loves dress, but he loves 
 justice and philanthropy better." 
 
 " This eulogy, sir," said Mary, " affords me real plea- 
 sure. May I know the name of the gentleman with whom 
 I hare the honour to converse ? "
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 269 
 
 '' My name is BlackmorCj" returned he. 
 
 " Dr. Blackmore ? " 
 
 " The same." 
 
 He was the same Dr. Blackmore Avho had been struck by 
 tlie appearance of the Count Sobieski at the Ilummums ; 
 and who^ being a rare visiter at Lady Dundas's, had never, 
 by cluince, met a second time with the object of his com- 
 jiassion. 
 
 " I am happy," resumed Miss Beaufort, " in having the 
 good fortune to meet a gentleman, of whom I have so fre- 
 quently heard my guardian speak with esteem." 
 
 "Ah!" replied he, "I have not seen him since the 
 death of his lady ; I hope that he and his son are well !" 
 
 " Perfectly," returned she. 
 
 " You, madam, I suppose, are my Lady's niece, the 
 daughter of the brave Admiral Beaufort ? " 
 
 " I am, sir." 
 
 " Well, I rejoice at this incident," rejoined he, pressing 
 her hand ; " I knew your mother when she was a lovely 
 girl. She used to spend her summers with the late Lady 
 Somerset, then Miss Beaufort, at the Castle. It was there 
 I had the honour of cultivating her friendship." 
 
 " I do not remember ever having seen my mother," re- 
 plied the novr thoughtful Mary. Dr. Blackmore observing 
 the expression of her countenance, smiled kindly, and said, 
 " I fear I am to blame here. This is a sad way of be- 
 ginning an acquaintance to which I introduced myself. But 
 your goodness must pardon me," continued he ; " for I 
 have so long accustomed myself to speak what I think to 
 those whom I love, that sometimes, as in this case, I un- 
 designedly inflict pain." 
 
 " Not in this case," returned Miss Beaufort : " I am 
 always pleased when listening to a friend of my mother ; 
 and i)articularly so, when he speaks in her praise." 
 
 The breaking up of the card-tables prevented further 
 conversation ; and Lord Berrington again approaching the 
 sofa where she sat, exclaimed as he perceived her com- 
 panion, "Ah ! my good Doctor; what, you have presented 
 yourself at this fair shrine? I declare you eccentric folk 
 may dare any thing. A\'hilst you are free. Miss Beaufort,"
 
 270 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 added he, turning to her, " adopt the advice which a good 
 lady once gave me, and which I have imphcitly followed : 
 ' When you are young, get the character of an oddity, and it 
 seats you in an easy chair for life.' " 
 
 Mary was interrupted in her reply by a general stir 
 amongst the company ; who, now that cards were over, 
 like bees and wasps, were swarming about the room, gather- 
 ing and stinging as they went. 
 
 At one the house was cleared ; and Miss Beaufort threw 
 herself on her pillow, to think and dream of Thaddeus. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 If it be true, what the vivid imaginations of poets have 
 often asserted, that when the soul dreams, it is in the actual 
 presence of those beings whose images present themselves to 
 their slumbers, then have the spirits of Thaddeus and Mary 
 been commingled at the hour of midnight ; then has the 
 young Sobieski again visited his distant country ; again 
 seen it victorious ; again knelt before his sainted parents. 
 
 From such visions as these, did Thaddeus awake in the 
 morning, after having spent the preceding evening with 
 Lady Tinemouth. 
 
 He had walked with her Ladyship in Hyde Park till a 
 late hour. By the mild light of the moon, which shone 
 brightly through the still balmy air of a midsummer night, 
 they took their way along the shadowy bank of the Ser- 
 pentine. 
 
 There is a solemn appeal to the soul in the repose of 
 nature, that " makes itself be felt." No syllable from either 
 Thaddeus or the Countess broke the universal silence. 
 Thaddeus looked around, on the clear expanse of water, 
 overshaded by the long reflection of the deepening woods : 
 then raising his eyes to that beautiful planet, which has ex- 
 cited tender thouglits in every feeling breast since the 
 creation of the world, he drew a deep sigh. The Countess 
 echoed it.
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 2?! 
 
 " In such a night as this/' said Thatldeus, in a low 
 voice, as if afraid to disturb the sleeping deity of the 
 place, " I used to walk the ramparts of Villanow with my 
 dear departed mother, and gaze on that lovely orb : and 
 when I was far from her, I have looked at it from the door 
 of my tent, and, fancying that her eyes were then fixed on 
 the same object with mine, I found happiness in the idea." 
 
 A tear stole down the cheek of Thaddeus. That moon 
 yet shone brightly ; but his mother's eyes were closed iu 
 the grave. 
 
 " Villanow!" repeated the Countess in a tone of sur- 
 prise ; " surely, that was the seat of the celebrated Palatine 
 of Alasovia ! — You have discovered yourself, Constantine! 
 I am much mistaken, if you be not his grandson, the 
 young, yet far-famed, Thaddeus Sobieski } " 
 
 Thaddeus had allowed the remembrances pressing on his 
 mind to draw him into a speech which had disclosed to the 
 quick apprehension of the Countess what his pride would 
 for ever have concealed. 
 
 " I have indeed betrayed my secret," cried he, incapable 
 of denying it ; " but, dear Lady Tinemouth, as you value 
 my feelings, never let it escape your lips. Having long 
 considered you as my best friend, and loved you as a parent, 
 I forgot, in the recollection of my beloved mother, that I 
 had withheld any of my history from you." 
 
 ■'Mysterious Providence!" exclaimed her Ladyship 
 after a pause, in which ten thousand admiring and pitying 
 reflections thronged on her mind : " is it possible } Can it 
 be the Count Sobieski, that brave and illustrious youth, cf 
 whom every foreigner spoke with wonder .'' Can it be him, 
 that I behold in the poor unfriended Constantine ? " 
 
 " Even so," returned Thaddeus, pressing her hand ; 
 '' my country is no more. I am now forgotten by the 
 world, as I have been by fortune. I have nothing to do on the 
 earth, but to fulfil the few duties which friendship has en- 
 joined ; and then it will be indifferent to me how soon I am 
 laid in its bosom." 
 
 " You are too young, dear Constantine (for I am yet to 
 call you by that name), to despair of happiness being yet 
 reserved for you."
 
 272 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " No, my dear Lady Tinemouth, I do not cheat myself 
 with such hope ; I am not so importunate with the gracious 
 Being who gave me life and reason. He bestowed upon 
 me for a while the tenderest connections ; friends, rank, 
 honours, glory : all these were crushed in the fall of Poland; 
 yet I survive. I seek resignation only, and I have found 
 it : it cost me many a struggle ; but the contest was due to 
 liie decrees of that all-wise Creator, who gave my first 
 years to happiness." 
 
 " Inestimable young man ! " cried the Countess, wiping 
 the flowing tears tears from her eyes, " you teach mis- 
 fortune dignity ! Not when all Warsaw rose in a body to 
 thank you ; not when the King received you in the senate 
 with open arms ; could you have appeared to me so worthy 
 of admiration, as at this moment, when, conscious of having 
 been all this, you submit to the direct reverse, because you 
 beUeve it to be the wiU of your Maker ! Ah ! little does 
 Miss Beaufort think, when seated by your side, that she is 
 conversing with the very hero whom she has so often 
 wished to see ! " 
 
 " Miss Beaufort ! " echoed Thaddeus, his heart glowing 
 with delight. " Did she ever hear of me by the name of 
 Sobieski ? " 
 
 " Who has not ? " returned the Countess : " every heart 
 that could be interested by suffering virtue has heard, and 
 must well remember the calamities of your country. AVTiilst 
 the newspapers of the day informed us of the struggles 
 which Poland made for liberty, they noticed, amongst the 
 first of her champions, the Palatine of Masovia, Kosciuszko, 
 and yourself. Many an evening have I passed with Mrs. 
 Dorothy and Mary Beaufort, lamenting the fate of that de- 
 voted kingdom." 
 
 During this declaration, a variety of transporting emo- 
 tions agitated the mind of Thaddeus ; until recollect- 
 ing, with a bitter pang, the shameless ingratitude of Pem- 
 broke, and tile cruel possibility of being recognised by 
 the Earl of Tinemouth as his son, he exclaimed, " My 
 dearest madam, I entreat that what I have revealed to you 
 may never be divulged ! Miss Beaufort's friendship would 
 indeed be happiness ; but I cannot purchase even so great
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 273 
 
 a bliss, at the expense of principles which are knit with my 
 life." 
 
 " How ? " cried the Countess : " is not your name and 
 all its attendant ideas an honour which the proudest man 
 might boast ? " 
 
 Thaddeus pressed her hand to his heart. 
 
 " You are kind ! very kind ! yet I cannot retract. 
 Confide, dear Lady Tinemouth, in the justice of my reso- 
 lution. I could not bear cold pity ; I could not bear the 
 heartless comments of people, who, pretending to com- 
 passion, would load me with a heavier sense of my cala- 
 mities. Besides, there are persons in England who are so 
 much the objects of my aversion, I would rather die than 
 let them know I exist. Therefore, once again, dear Lady 
 Tinemouth, let me implore you to preserve my secret." 
 
 She saw by the earnestness of his manner, she ought to 
 comply ; and, without further hesitation, promised all the 
 silence he desired. 
 
 This long moonlight conversation, by awakening those 
 dormant remembrances which were cherished, though hid- 
 den in his bosom, gave birth to an effort of imagination, that 
 painted within the rapid series of his tumultuous dreams, 
 the images of every being whom he had ever loved, or now 
 continued to regard with interest. 
 
 Proceeding next morning towards Harley Street, he 
 mused on what had happened ; and, pleased that he had, 
 though unpremeditatedly,paid thejust compliment of his en- 
 tire confidence to the uncommon friendship of the Countess, 
 he arrived at Lady Dundas's door before he was sensible of 
 the ground he had passed over ; and in a few minutes after- 
 wards was ushered into his accustomed purgatory. 
 
 "\Mien the servant opened the study-door, Miss Euphemia 
 was again alone. Thaddeus recoiled, but he could not 
 retreat. 
 
 " Come in, ^Mr. Constantino," cried the little beauty, iu 
 a languid tone ; " my sister is gone to the riding-school 
 with Mr. Lascelles. Miss Beaufort wanted me to drive out 
 with her and my mother ; but I preferred waiting for you." 
 
 The Count bowed ; and almost retreating with fear of 
 what might next be said^ he glatUy heard a thundering 
 
 X
 
 274 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 knock at the door, and a moment after the voice of Miss 
 Dundas ascending the stairs. 
 
 He had just opened his books, when she entered, fol- 
 lowed by her lover. Panting under a heavy riding habit, 
 she flung herself on a sofa, and began to viUfy " the odious 
 heat of Fozard's odious place ; " then telling Euphemia she 
 would play truant to-day, ordered her to attend to her 
 lessons. 
 
 Owing to the warmth of the weather, Thaddeus came out 
 this morning without boots ; and it being the first time the I 
 exquisite proportion of his limb had been seen by any of ' 
 the present company excepting Euphemia, LasceUes, burst- 
 ing with an emotion (which he would not call envy), 
 measured the Count's fine leg with liis scornful eyes ; then 
 declaring that he was quite in a furnace, took the corner of 
 his glove, and waving it to and fro, half muttered, " Come, 
 gentle air." 
 
 " The fairer LasceUes cries!" exclaimed Euphemia,. 
 looking off" her exercise. 
 
 " WTiat ! does your master teach you wit ? " drawled 
 the coxcomb, with a particular emphasis. 
 
 Thaddeus, affecting not to hear, continued to direct his 
 pupil. 
 
 The indefatigable LasceUes, having observed the com- 
 placence with which the Count always regarded Miss Beau- 
 fort, determined the goad should fret ; and drawing the 
 netting out of his pocket, which he had taken the night 
 before from Mary, he exclaimed, " 'Fore Heaven, here is 
 my little Beaufort's purse ! " 
 
 Thaddeus started, and unconsciously looking up, beheld 
 the well-known work of INlary dangling in the hand of 
 LasceUes. He suffered pangs unknown to him ; his eyes 
 became dim ; and harcUy knowing what he saw or said, 
 he pursued the lesson Avith increased rapidity. 
 
 Finding his malice take effect, with a careless air the 
 malicious puppy threw his clumsy limbs on the sofa, 
 which Miss Dundas had quitted to scat herself nearer the 
 window, and cried in a voice of sudden recollection — 
 
 " By the by, that Miss Mary Beaufort, when she 
 chooses to be sincere, is a staunch little aristocrat^'
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 275 
 
 " You may as well tell me," replied Miss Dundas, with 
 a contemptuous curl of her lip, " that she is the Empress 
 of Russia." 
 
 " I beg your pardon/' cried he, raising his voice at his 
 judgment being doubted ; " I will prove it to you. '\\'hen 
 she gave me this gew-gaw," added he, rumpling the purse 
 in his hand, " she told me an everlasting story about some 
 friend of hers, whose music-vnaster, having mistaken some 
 condescensions on her part, had dared to snatch a kiss from 
 her snowy fingers as they were flying over the strings of 
 her harp. You cannot imagine how Beaufort's pretty eyes 
 blazed as she related the tale ; I verily believe, had it been 
 herself, she would have given poor Tweedledum a flourish 
 across the cheek." 
 
 Miss Dundas laughed. 
 
 " These energetic young ladies possess not the gentlest 
 passions in the world ; and after ]\Iiss Beaufort's outrageous 
 sally last night upon you, I should not wonder at any in- 
 decorum she might commit." 
 
 " Outrageous to me!" echoed the fop, dipping the end 
 of the netting into Diana's lavender-bottle, and dabbing 
 his temples, " she was always too civil by half. I hate 
 forward girls." 
 
 Thaddeus shut the large dictionary which lay before 
 him, with a violence that made the puppy start ; and rising 
 hastily from his chair, with a face as red as crimson, was 
 taking his hat, when the door opened, and Mary appeared. 
 
 A white-chip bonnet was resting lightly on the glittering 
 tresses which waved over her forehead ; whilst her lace- 
 shade, gently discomposed by the hair, half veiled and half 
 revealed her graceful figure. She entered with a smile, 
 and Avalking up to the side of the table where Thaddeus 
 was standing, enquired after his friend's health. He an- 
 swered her in a voice unusually agitated. All that he had 
 been told by the Countess of her favourable opinion of 
 him, and the slander he had just heard from Diana's lover. 
 Avere at once present to his mind. 
 
 He was yet speaking, when Miss Beaufort casually look- 
 ing towards the other side of the room, saw her purse still 
 T 2
 
 276 
 
 THADDEUS OF MARSAW. 
 
 acting the part of a handkerchief in the hand of Mr. Las- 
 celles. 
 
 " Look, Mr, Constantine," said she, gaily tapping his 
 arm with her parasol, " how the most precious things may 
 be degraded ! There is the netting you have so often ad- 
 mired, and which I intended for Lady Tinemouth's pocket, 
 debased to do the office of jVIr. Lascelles's napkin." 
 
 " You gave it to him. Miss Beaufort," cried Miss Dun- 
 das ; " and after that, surely he may use it as he values 
 it!" 
 
 " If I could have given it to Mr. Lascelles, madam, I 
 should hardly have taken notice of its fate." 
 
 Believing what her lover had advanced, Miss Dundas 
 was displeased at ]\Iary for having, by presents, interfered 
 with any of her danglers, and rather angrily repHed — 
 " Mr. Lascelles said you gave it to him ; and certainly you 
 %vould not insinuate a word against his veracity ? " 
 
 "No, not insinuate," returned Miss Beaufort, "but 
 affirm, that he has forgotten his veracity in this statement." 
 
 Lascelles yawned — "^ Lord bless me, ladies, how you 
 quarrel ! You will disturb Monsieur." 
 
 " Mr. Constantine," returned Mary, blushing with in- 
 dignation, " cannot be disturbed by nonsense." 
 
 Thaddeus again took his hat : bowing to his lovely 
 champion, with an expression of countenance which he 
 little suspected had passed from his heart to his eyes, he 
 was preparing to take his leave, when Euphemia requested 
 him to inform her whether she had folded down the right 
 pages for the next exercise. He drew near, and was lean- 
 ing over her chair to look at the book, when she whispered, 
 " Don't be hurt at what Lascelles says : he is ahvays jea- 
 lous of any body who is handsomer than himself." 
 
 Thaddeus bowed to her with a face of scarlet ; for on 
 meeting the eyes of Mary, he saw that she had heard this 
 intended comforter as well as himself; and, uttering a few 
 incoherent sentences to both ladies, he hurried out of the 
 room.
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 277 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 The Count Sobicski was prevented paying liis customary 
 visit next morning in Harley Street, by the sudden illness 
 of the General, who was struck, at seven o'clock, by a fit 
 of the palsy. 
 
 "\Fhen Dr. Cavendish belield the poor old man stretched 
 on the bed, and hardly exhibiting signs of Ufe, he pro- 
 nounced it to be a death-stroke. At this sentence, Thad- 
 deus, turning deadly pale, staggered to a seat, with his eyes 
 fixed on the altered features of his friend. Dr. Cavendish 
 took his hand. 
 
 " Recollect yourself, my dear sir ! Happen when it 
 will, his death must be a release. But do not expect it for 
 some time ; he may yet linger a few days." 
 
 " Not in pain, I hope ! " said Thaddeus. 
 
 " No," returned the Doctor ; " probably he will remain 
 as you now see him, and expire like the last glimmer of a 
 dying taper." 
 
 The benevolent Cavendish gave proper cUrections to 
 Thaddeus, and to ]\Irs. Robson, who promised to act as 
 nurse ; and then with regret left the stunned Count to the 
 melancholy task of watching by the bed-side of his vener- 
 able friend. 
 
 Thaddeus noAV retained no thought that was not rivetted 
 to the emaciated form before him. ^riiilst the unconscious 
 invalid struggled for respiration, he listened to his short and 
 convulsed breathing, with sensations which seemed to tear 
 the strings of his own breast. Unable to bear it longer, he 
 moved to the fire, and seating himself with his pallid face 
 and aching head supported on his arm, wdiich rested on a 
 plain deal table, he remained ; meeting no other suspension 
 from deep meditation, than the occasional appearance of 
 Mrs. Robson, on tiptoes, peeping in, and enquiring whether 
 he wanted any thing. 
 
 From this depressing reverie he was aroused next morn- 
 ing, at nine o'clock, by the entrance of Dr. Cavendish. 
 T 3
 
 278 THADOEt'S OF WARSAW. 
 
 Thaddeus seized his hand with the eagerness of anxiety^ — 
 " He has not been worse, my dear sir, may I hope " 
 
 Not suffering him to finish with what he hoiJed, the 
 Doctor shook his head in sign of the vanity of that hope^ 
 and advanced to the bed of the General. He felt his pulse. 
 No change of opinion was the consequence, only that he 
 now saw no threatenings of immediate dissolution. 
 
 " Poor Butzou ! " said Thaddeus, as the Doctor with- 
 drew, putting the General's motionless hand to his quiver- 
 ing lips, " I never will leave thee ! 1 will watch by thee^ 
 thou last relic of my country ! " 
 
 With anguish at his heart, he wrote a few hasty lines to 
 the Countess ; then addressing Miss Dundas, he mentioned 
 as the reason for his late and continued absence the danger 
 of his friend. 
 
 His note found Miss Dundas attended by her constant 
 shadow, ]\Ir. Lascelles ; Lady Villiers ; and two or three 
 more fine ladies and gentlemen ; besides Euphemia and 
 Miss Beaufort, who, with pensive countenances, were wait- 
 hig the arrival of its writer. 
 
 When INIiss Dundas took the billet off the silver salver 
 on which her man presented it, and looked at the super- 
 scription, she threw it into the lap of Lascelles. 
 
 " There," cried she, " is an excuse, I suppose, from 
 Mr. Constantino, for his impertinence in not coming hither 
 yesterday. Read it, Lascelles." 
 
 " 'Fore Gad, I wouldn't touch it for an earldom ! " ex- 
 claiined the affected pnppy, jerking it on the table. " It 
 might affect me with the hypochondriacs. Pray, Phemy, 
 do you peruse it." 
 
 Euphemia, in her eagerness to learn what detained ^Ir. 
 Constantine, neglected the insolence of the request, and 
 hastily breaking the seal, read as follows :— 
 
 " ]\Ir. Constantine hopes that a sudden and dangerous 
 disorder, which has attacked the life of a very dear friend, 
 with whom he resides, will be a sufficient appeal to the 
 humanity of the Misses Dundas, and obtain their pardon 
 for his rclinquisliing the honour of attending them yester- 
 day and to-day." 
 
 " Dear me !" cried Euj)hcmia, piteously, " how sorry I
 
 TUADDEUS OF WARSAW. 279 
 
 am] I dare say it is that white-haired old gentleman we 
 saw in the Park. You remember, Mary, he was sick .'' " 
 
 " Probably," returned Miss Beaufort, with her eyes 
 fixed on the agitated handwriting of Thaddeus. 
 
 " Throw the letter into the street, Pliemy !" cried Miss 
 Dundas, affecting sudden terror ; " who knows but what it 
 is a fever the man has got, ami we may all catch our 
 deaths." 
 
 " Heaven forbid!" exclaimed Mary, in a voice of real 
 alarm ; but it was for Thaddeus ; not fear of any infection 
 which the paper might bring to herself. 
 
 " Lascelles, take away the filthy scrawl from Phemy. 
 How can you be so hca<lstrong, child ? " cried Diana, 
 snatching the letter from her sister, and throwing it out of 
 the window ; " I declare you are sufficient to provoke a 
 saint." 
 
 '' Then you may keep your temper, Di," returned Eu- 
 phemia, with a sneer ; " you are far enough from that 
 title." 
 
 Miss Dundas made a very angry reply, Avhich was reta- 
 liated with another ; and a still more noisy and disagree- 
 able altercation might have taken place, had not a good- 
 humoured lad, a brother-in-law of Lady Villiers, in hopes 
 of calling off the attention of the sisters, exclaimed, " Bless 
 me. Miss Dundas, your little dog has pulled a folded sheet 
 of paper from under that stand of flow^ers i Perhaps it 
 may be of consequence." 
 
 " Fly ! Take it up, George ! " cried Lady Villiers ; 
 " Esop wiU tear it to atoms, whilst you are asking ques- 
 tions." 
 
 After a chase round tht room, over chairs and between 
 tables, George Villiers at length plucked the devoted piece 
 of paper out of the dog's mouth ; and as Miss Beaufort 
 was gathering up her working materials to leave the room, 
 opened it, and cried in a voice of triumph, " By Jove, it is 
 a copy of verses ! " 
 
 " Verses ! " demanded Euphemia, feeling in her pocket, 
 and colouring ; " let me see them." 
 
 " That you sha'n't," roared Lascelles, catching them out 
 T 4
 
 280 THADDEVS OF WARSAW. 
 
 of the boy's hand ; " if they are your writing, we will have 
 them." 
 
 " Help me, ]\Iary!" cried Euphemia, turning to Miss 
 Beaufort ; " I know that nobody is a poet in this house, 
 but myself. They must be mine, and I will have them." 
 
 " Surely, Mr. Lascelles," said Mary, compassionating the 
 poor girl's anxiety, " you will not be so rude as to detain 
 them from their right owner ? " 
 
 " O ! but I will," cried he, mounting on a table to get 
 out of Euphemia's reach, who, half crying, tried to snatch 
 at the paper. " Let me alone. Miss Phemy. I will read 
 them ; so here goes it." 
 
 Miss Dundas laughed at her sister's confused looks, 
 whilst Lascelles prepared to read in a loud voice the follow- 
 ing verses. They had been hastily written in pencil by 
 Thaddeus, a long time ago. And having put them by mis- 
 take, with some other papers into his pocket, he had 
 dropped them next day, in taking out his handkerchief at 
 Lady Dundas's. Lascelles cleared his throat with three 
 hems, then raising his right hand with a flourishing action, 
 in a very pompous tone began — 
 
 Like one, whom Etna's torrent fires have sent 
 Far from tlie land, where his first youth was spent ; 
 Who, in!y drooping, on a foreign shore 
 Broods over scenes which charm Iiis eyes no more : 
 And while his country's ruin wakes the groan. 
 Yearns, for the buried hut, he called his own. — 
 So driv'n, O Poland ! from thy ravaged plains. 
 So mourning o'er thy sad, but lov'd remains, 
 A houseless wretch, /wander through the world. 
 From Friends, from Grandeur, and from Glory hurl'dl 
 
 Oh ! not, that each long night my weary eyes 
 Sink into Sleep, unluli'd by Pity's sighs ; 
 Not, that in bitter tears my bread is steep'd ; 
 Tears drawn by insults on my sorrows heap'd ; 
 Not that my thoughts recall a mother's grave ; — . 
 Recall tlie sire I would have died to save. 
 Who fell before me, bleeding on the field. 
 Whilst I in vain opposed the useless shield : — 
 Ah ; not for these 1 grieve! Though mental wop, 
 l\Iore deadly still, scarce Fancy's self could know. 
 O'er want and jirivatc griefs the soul can climb, 
 Virtue subdues the one, the other Time ; — 
 ]5ut, at his country's fall, the patriot feels 
 A grief, no time, no drug, no reason heals. — 
 
 Mem'ry ! remorseless murderer ! whoso voice 
 Kills as it sounds ; who never says, — Rejoice ! 
 To my deserted heart, by joy forget; 
 Thou pale, thou midnight spectre, haunt me not I 
 Thou dost but point to where sublimely stands 
 A glorious temple, rear'd by Freedom's hands,
 
 THADDEIS OP WARSAW. 281 
 
 Circled with palms and laurels, crowned with light. 
 Darting Truth's piercing sun on mortal sight : 
 Then rushing on, leagued fiends of hellish birth, 
 
 Level the mighty t'ahric with the earth ! 
 
 Slept the red bolt of Vengeance in that hour, 
 
 When virtuous I'rcedoni tell the slave of I'ow'r! 
 
 Slumber'd the God of Justice: that no brand 
 
 Ulasteil, with blazing wing, the im|>ious band ! 
 
 Dread God of Justice! to thy will I kneel. 
 
 Though still my filial heart must bleed and feel, 
 
 Though still the proud convulsive throb will rise, 
 
 When fools my country's wrongs and woes despise; 
 
 When low-soul'd Pomp, vain Wealth, that Pity gives. 
 
 Which \'irtue ne'er bestows, and ne'er receives, — 
 
 That Pity, stabbing where it vaunts to cure. 
 
 Which barbs the dart of Want, and makes it sure ; — 
 
 How far removed from what the feeling breast 
 
 Yields boastless, brcathe<l in sighs to the distress'dl 
 
 Which whispers sympathy, with tender fear, 
 
 And almost dreads to pour its balmy tear, — 
 
 But such I know not now — unseen, alone, 
 
 1 heave the heavy sigh, I draw the groan ; 
 
 And madd'ning, turn to days of liveliest joy, 
 
 When o'er my native hills I cast mine eye. 
 
 And said exulting — " Free men here shall sow 
 
 The seed that soon in tossing gold shall glow! 
 
 While Plenty, led by Liberty, shall rove. 
 
 Gay and rejoicing, through the land they love; 
 
 And, 'mi<l their loaded vines, the peasant see 
 
 His wife, his children, bre.itliing out — We're free! " 
 
 But now, O wretched land ! above thy plains. 
 
 Half viewless through the gloom, vast Horror reigns.— 
 
 No happy peasant, o'er his blazing hearth. 
 
 Devotes the supper-hour to love and mirth ; 
 
 No flowers on liberty's pure altar bloom ; 
 
 Alas! they wither now, and strew her tomb! — 
 
 Krom the Great Book of Nations, fiercely rent, 
 
 l\Iy country's page to I.othe's stream is sent — 
 
 But sent in vain ! — Th' historic Muse shall raise. 
 
 O'er wrong'd Sarmatia's cause, the voice of praiso. 
 
 Shall sing her dauntless on the field of death ; 
 
 And blast her royal robbers' bloody wreath ! 
 
 " It must be Constantine's !" cried Euphemia in a voice 
 of surprised delight, when the reader had finished, and 
 springing up to take the paper out of his hand. 
 
 " I dare say it is/' answered the ill-natured Lascelles, 
 holding it above his head. " Come, you shall have it ; 
 only first let us hear it again ; it is so mighty pretty, so 
 very lackadaisical ! " 
 
 " Give it me ! " cried Euphemia, quite angry. 
 
 " Don't, Lascelles," exclaimed Miss Dundas ; " the 
 man must be a perfect idiot to write such rhodomontade." 
 
 " O! it is delectable!' returned her lover, opening the 
 paper again ; " it would make a charming ditty ! Come, 
 I will sing it. Shall it be to the tune of Tlie Babex in the 
 Wood, or Chevy C/iase, or The Bee/gar of Bethnal Green ?"
 
 282 TIIADDEVS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " Pitiless, senseless wretch ! " exclaimed Mary, rising 
 from her chair ; where she had been striving to subdue 
 the emotions with which every line in the poem filled her 
 heart. 
 
 " Brute ! " cried the enraged Euphemia, taking courage 
 at Miss Beaufort's unusual warmth; " I will have the 
 paper." 
 
 " You sha'n't/' answered the malicious coxcomb ; and 
 raising his arm higher than her reach, he tore it into a 
 hundred pieces. 
 
 At this sight, no longer able to contain herself, Mary 
 rushed out of the room ; and hurrying to her chamber, 
 threw herself upon the bed ; where she gave way to a 
 paroxysm of tears, which shook her almost to suffocation. 
 
 During the first burst of her indignation, her agitated 
 spirit breathed every appellation of abhorrence and re- 
 proach on Lascelles and his malignant mistress. Then 
 wiping her flowing eyes, she exclaimed, " Yet can I won- 
 der, when I compare Constantino with what they are } 
 The man who dares to be virtuous and great, and to appear 
 so, arms the self-love of all common characters against 
 him." 
 
 Such being her meditations, she refused to join the family 
 at dinner ; and it was not until evening that she felt her- 
 self at all able to treat the ill-natured group with decent 
 civility. 
 
 To avoid spending more hours than were absolutely 
 necessary, in the company of a woman she now loathed, 
 next morning Miss Beaufort borrowed Lady Dundas's sedan 
 chair ; and ordering it to Lady Tinemouth's, found her 
 at home alone, and evidently much discomposed. 
 
 " I intrude on you. Lady Tinemouth ! " said Mary, 
 observing her looks, and withdrawing from the offered 
 seat. 
 
 " No, my dear Miss Beaufort," replied she, " I am glad 
 you are come. I assure you I have few pleasures in soli- 
 tude. Read that letter," added she, putting one into her 
 hand : " it has just conveyed one of the cruellest stabs ever 
 offered by a son to the heart of his mother. Read it ; and
 
 THAI>DEUS OF WARSAVr. 283 
 
 you will not be surprised at finding me in the state you 
 see." 
 
 The Countess looked on her paralysed hands as she 
 spoke ; and JNIiss Beaufort^ taking the paper, sat down and 
 read to herself the following letter : 
 
 " To the Right Honourable the Countess of Tinemouth. 
 " Madam, 
 
 " I am commissioned by the Earl, my father, to inform 
 you, if you have lost all regard for your own character, he 
 considers that some respect is due to the mother of his 
 son ; therefore he watches your conduct. 
 
 " lie has been apprised of your frequent meetings during 
 these many months in Grosvenor Place, and at other people's 
 houses, with an obscure foreigner, your declared lover. 
 The Earl wished to sui)pose this false, until your shameless 
 behaviour became so flagrant, that he esteems it worthy 
 neither of doubt nor inilulgencc. 
 
 " AFith his own eyes he saw you, four nights ago, alone 
 with this man in Hyde Park. Such demonstration is dread- 
 ful. Your proceedings are abominable ; and if you do not, 
 without further parley, set off, either to Craighall in Corn- 
 wall, or to the AV'olds, you shall receive a letter from my 
 sister as well as myself, to tell the dishonoured Lady Tine- 
 mouth how much she merits lier daughter's contempt, 
 added to that of IIahwold." 
 
 " And what do you mean to do, my dear madam .'' " en- 
 quired Mary, shocked almost beyond the power of remark. 
 
 " I will obey my Lord and his children," returned the 
 Countess, bursting into tears. " My last action shall be in 
 obedience to their will. I cannot live long; and when I 
 am dead, perhaps the Earls vigilance may be satisfied ; 
 perhaps some kind friend may then plead my cause to my 
 daughter's heart, (^ne cruel line from her would kill me. 
 I will at least avoid the completion of that threat, by leaving 
 town to-morrow night." 
 
 " So soon? But I hope not to Cornwall?" 
 
 " No," replied her Ladyship ; " Craighall is too near 
 Plymouth; I determine on the Wolds. Yet, why should
 
 284 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 I have a choice ? It is ahnost a matter of indifference to 
 what spot I am banished ; in what place I am to die : any 
 where I shall be equally remote from a friend." 
 
 Miss Beaufort's heart was oppressed when she entered 
 the room ! Lady Tinemouth's sorrows seemed to give her a 
 license to weep. She took her Ladyship's hand, and with 
 difficulty sobbed out this inarticulate offer: — " Take me, 
 dear Lady Tinemouth ! I am sure my guardian will be 
 happy to permit me to be with you, where and how long 
 you like." 
 
 " My dear girl," replied the Countess, kissing her wet 
 cheek, " I thank you from my heart ; but I cannot take so 
 vuigenerous an advantage of your goodness, as to consign 
 your tender nature to the harassing task of attencUng on sor- 
 row and sickness. How strangely different may even amiable 
 (hspositions be tempered ! Maria Egerton is better framed 
 for such an office. Kind as she is, the hilarity of her dis- 
 position does not allow the sympathy she bestows on others 
 to injure either her mind or her body." 
 
 IVIary interrupted her. " I should be grieved to believe 
 that my very aptitude to serve my friends will prove the 
 first reason why I should be denied the pleasure. It is only 
 in scenes of affliction that friendship is tried, and declares 
 its truth. If Miss Egerton were not going with you, I 
 should certainly insist on putting my affection to the or- 
 deal." 
 
 " You mistake, my sweet friend," returned her Ladyship ; 
 " Maria is forbidden to remain any longer with me. You 
 have overlooked the postscript to Lord Ilarwold's letter, else 
 you must have seen the whole of my cruel situation. Turn 
 over the leaf." 
 
 Miss Beaufort opened the sheet, and read these few lines, 
 which being written on the interior part of the paper, had 
 before escaped her sight : — 
 
 " Go where you will, it is our special injunction that you 
 leave Miss Egerton behind you : she, we hear, has been the 
 ambassadress in this intrigue. If we learn that you disobey, 
 it shall be worse for you in every respect ; as it will con- 
 vince us beyond a possibility of doubt how uniform is the 
 turpitude of your conduct."
 
 TIIADPEUS OP WARSAW. 285 
 
 Lady Tincmouth grasped Miss Beaufort's hand, as slie 
 threw the barbarous scrawl on the table. " And that is 
 from the son for whom I felt all a mother's agonies ; all a 
 mother's love ! Had he died the first hour in which he saw 
 the light, what a mass of guilt might he not have escaped ! 
 It is he," added she, in a lower voice, and looking wildly 
 round, " that breaks my heart. I could have borne his 
 father's perfidy ; but, insult, oppression, from my child ! 
 Oh, Mary, you know not its bitterness!" 
 
 Miss Beaufort could only answer with her tears. 
 
 After a pause of nearly a quarter of an hour, in which 
 the Countess strove to tranquillise her spirits, she resumed 
 in a more composed voice — 
 
 " Excuse me for an instant, my dear ]\Iiss Beaufort ; I 
 must write to i\Ir. Constantine. I have yet to inform him 
 that my absence is to be added to his other misfortunes." 
 
 'With her eyes raining down upon the paper, she took up 
 a pen, and hastily w^riting a few lines, was sealing them, 
 when Mary, looking up, hardly conscious of the words 
 which escaped her, said with anguished eagerness, " Lady 
 Tinemouth, you know much of that noble and unhappy 
 young man ? " Her eye irresolute, and her check glowing, 
 awaited the answer of the Countess, who continued to gaze 
 on the letter she held in her hand, as if in profound thought ; 
 then all at once i-aising her head, and regarding the now 
 downcast face of her lovely friend with tenilerness, re})lied, 
 in a tone which conveyed the deep interest of her heart — 
 
 " I do. Miss Beaufort : but he has reposed his griefs in 
 my friendship and honour ; therefore I must hold them 
 sacred." 
 
 " I will not ask you to betray them," returned ALary, in 
 a faltering voice : " yet I cannot help lamenting his suf- 
 ferings, and esteeming the fortitude with which he supports 
 his fall." 
 
 The Countess looked steadfastly on her fluctuating coun- 
 tenance. " Has Constantine, my dear girl, insinuated to 
 you, that he ever was otherwise than as he now appears ? " 
 
 Miss Beaufort could not reply. She would not trust her 
 lips with words ; but shook her head in sign that he had 
 not. Lady Tinemouth was too well read in the human
 
 286 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 hearty to doubt for an instant the cause of her question, and 
 consequent emotion. Feehng that something was due to 
 an anxiety so disinterested, she took her passive hand, and 
 said, " j\Iary, you have guessed rightly. Though I am not 
 authorised to tell you the real name of Constantine, nor the 
 particulars of his history, yet let this satisfy your generous 
 heart, that it can never be more honourably employed than 
 in compassionating calamities which ought to wreath his 
 young brows with glory." 
 
 Miss Beaufort's eyes streamed afresh, whilst her exulting 
 soul seemed ready to rush from her bosom. 
 
 " Mary !" continued the Countess, warmed by the recol- 
 lection of his excellence, " you have no need to blush at the 
 interest which you take in this amiable Constantine ! Every 
 trial of spirit which could have tortured youth or manhood 
 has been endured by him with the firmness of a hero. Ah, 
 my sweet friend," added the Countess, pressing the hand of 
 the confused Miss Beaufort, who, ashamed and conscious 
 that her behaviour betrayed how dearly she considered him, 
 had covered her face with her handkerchief, " when you are 
 disposed to believe that a man is as great as his titles and 
 demands assert, examine with a nice observance, whether 
 his pretensions be real or artificial. Imagine him disrobed 
 of splendour, and struggling with the world's inclemencies. 
 If his character cannot stand this ordeal, he is only a vain 
 pageant, inflated and garnished ; and it is reasonable to 
 punish his arrogance with contempt. But on the reverse, 
 when, like Constantine, he rises from the ashes of his for- 
 tunes in a brighter blaze of virtue, then, dearest girl," cried 
 the Countess, encircling her with her arms, " it is the 
 sweetest privilege of loveliness to console and bless so rare 
 a being." 
 
 Mary raised her weeping face from the bosom of her 
 friend ; and clasping her hands together with trepidation and 
 anguish, implored her to be as faithful to her secret, as she 
 had proved herself to Constantine's : " I would sooner die," 
 added she, " than have him know my rashness, perhaps my 
 indelicacy ! Let me possess his esteem. Lady Tinemouth ! 
 Let him suppose that I only ('f<fccm him ! More I should 
 shrink from : I have seen him beset by some of my sex ;
 
 TIIADDEIS OF WARSAW. 287 
 
 and to be classed with them ! To liave him imaf^ine tliat 
 my affection is like theirs ! I could not bear it — I entreat 
 you let him respect me ! " 
 
 The impetuosity, and almost despair, with wliich ]\Iiss 
 Beaufort uttered these incolierent sentences, pierced the soul 
 of Lady Tinemouth. How different was the sjiirit of this 
 pure and dignified love, to the wild passion she had seen 
 shake the frame of Lady Sara lloos \ 
 
 They remained silent for some time. 
 
 " May I see your Ladysliip to-morrow } " asked Mary, 
 drawing her cloak about her. 
 
 " I fear not," replied the Countess ; " I leave this house 
 to-morrow. 
 
 Miss Beaufort rose ; her lips, hands, and feet, trembled 
 so, that she could hardly stand. Lady Tinemouth put lier 
 arm round her waist, and kissing her forehead, added, 
 " Heaven bless you, my sweet friend ! j\Iay all the wishes 
 of your innocent heart be gratified ! " 
 
 The Countess supported her to the door. Mary hesi- 
 tated an instant ; then flinging her snowy arms over her 
 Ladyship's neck, in a voice scarcely audible, articulated 
 — '*^0nly tell me ! — does he love Eujjhemia?" 
 
 Lady Tinemouth strained her to her breast — " Xo, my 
 dearest girl ; I am certain, both from what I have heard 
 him say, and observed in his eyes, that had he dared to love 
 any one, you would have been the object of his choice." 
 
 How Miss Beaufort got into Lady Dundas's chair she had 
 no recollection, so completely was she absorbed in the recent 
 scene. Her mind was perplexed, her heart ached ; and she 
 arrived in Harley Street so nmch disordered and unwell, as 
 to oblige her to retire immediately to her room, with the 
 excuse of a violent pain in her head. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIIL 
 
 This interview induced Lady Tinemouth to destroy the 
 note she had written to Thadileus ; and to frame another.
 
 288 Thaddeus of warsaw. 
 
 better calculated to produce comfort to all parties. "Wliat 
 she had declared to Mary respecting the state of the Count's 
 affections was sincere. 
 
 She had early penetrated the veil of bashfulness with 
 which jMiss Beaufort obscured that countenance, so usually 
 the tablet of her soul. The Countess easily translated the 
 quick receding of her eye, whenever Thaddeus turned his 
 attention towards her ; the confused reply that followed any 
 unexpected question from his lips ; and, above all, the un- 
 heeded sighs heaved by her, when he left the room, or when 
 his name was mentioned during his absence. These symp- 
 toms too ti'uly revealed to Lady Tinemouth the state of her 
 her young friend's bosom. 
 
 But the circumstances being different, her observations 
 on the Count were not nearly so conclusive. IVIary had 
 absolutely given the empire of her happiness, with her heart, 
 into his hands. Thaddeus wished that his ruined hopes did 
 not prevent him from laying his at her feet. Therefore, 
 not having surrendered his imagination to a passion which, 
 in his situation, he considered as madness, he was unem- 
 barrassed in her presence ; and regarding her as a being 
 beyond his reach, conceived no suspicions that she enter- 
 tained one dearer thought of him, than what mere j^hilan- 
 tliropy could authorise. 
 
 He contemplated her unequalled beauty, graces, talents, 
 and virtues, with an admiration bordering on idolatry ! yet 
 his heart flew from the confession that he loved her ; and 
 it was not until reason demanded of his candour, why he 
 felt a pang on seeing Mary's purse in the hands of Mr. 
 Lascelles, that with a glowing cheek he owned to himself, 
 he was jealous : that although he had not presumed to ele- 
 vate one wish towards the possession of Miss Beaufort; 
 yet when Lascelles flaunted her name on his tongue, he found 
 how deep would be the wound in his peace, should she ever 
 give her hand to another. 
 
 Confounded at this discovery of a passion, the seeds of 
 which, he supposed, had been crushed by the weight of his 
 misfortunes, he pi-oceeded homewards in a trance of thought; 
 not far differing from that of the dreamer, who sinks into a
 
 THABDEUS OF WARSAW. 28^ 
 
 light but harassing slumber, and full of terror, doubts whe- 
 ther he be sleeping or awake. 
 
 The sudden illness of General Butzou having put these 
 ideas to flight, Thaddeus was sitting on the bed-side, with 
 his anxious thoughts fixed on the pale spectacle of mortality 
 before him, when Nancy brought in a letter from the Count- 
 ess. He took it, and going to the window, read with min- 
 gled pain and pleasure the following epistle : — 
 
 " To Mr. Constantine. 
 
 " I know not, my dear Count, when I shall be per- 
 mitted to see you again ; perhaps never on this side of the 
 grave ! 
 
 " Since Heaven has denied me the tenderness of my own 
 children, it would have been a comfort to me, might I have 
 continued to act a parent's part by you. But my cruel lord, 
 and my more cniel son, jealous of the consolation I meet in 
 the society of my few intmiate friends, command me to quit 
 London ; and as I have ever made it a system to obey their 
 injunctions, I shall go. 
 
 " It pierces me to the soul, my dear son ! (allow ray 
 maternal heart to call you by that name !) it distresses me 
 deeply, that I am compelled to leave the place where you 
 are: and the more, that I cannot see you before my departure, 
 for I quit town to-morrow afternoon. 
 
 " ^^rite to me often, my loved Sobieski : your letters 
 will be some alleviation to my lot during the fulfilment of 
 my hard duty. 
 
 " 'Wear the enclosed gold chain for my sake; it is one of 
 two given me a long time ago by Miss Beaufort. If I have 
 not greatly mistaken you, the present will now possess a 
 double value in your estimation : indeed it ought. Sensi- 
 bility and thankfulness being properties of your nature, 
 they will not deny a lively gratitude to the generous interest 
 with which that amiable young woman regards your fate- 
 It is impossible that the avowed Count Sobieski (whom, a 
 year ago, I remember her animated fancy painted in the 
 most romantic colours,) could excite more of her esteem than 
 I know she has bestowed on the untitled Constantine. 
 
 " She is all nobleness and affection. Although I am
 
 290 THADDEUS OF WARSA^V. 
 
 sensible she will leave much behind her in London to 
 regret, she insists on accompanying me to the Wolds. 
 Averse to transgress so far on her goodness, I firmly refused 
 her offer until this evening, when I received so warm and 
 urging a letter from the kind girl, that I could no longer 
 withhold my consent. 
 
 " Indeed, this lovely creature's active friendship proves 
 of high consequence to me now, situated as I am with 
 regard to a new whim of the Earl's. Had she not benevo- 
 lently presented herself, in obedience to my Lord's com- 
 mands I should have been obliged to go alone ; he having 
 taken some wild antipathy to Miss Egerton, whose company 
 he has interdicted. At any rate, her parents would not have 
 allowed me' her society much longer, for Mr. Montresor is 
 to return this month. 
 
 " I shall not be easy, my dear Count, until I hear from 
 you. Pray write soon ; and inform me of every particular 
 respecting the poor General : is he likely to recover ? 
 
 " In all things, my loved son, in which I can serve you, 
 remember, that I expect you will call upon me as a mother. 
 Your own could hardly have regarded you with deeper 
 tenderness, than does your affectionate and faithful 
 
 " Adeliza Tinemouth. 
 " Grosvenor Place, Thursdcaj, midnight. 
 
 " Direct to me at Harwold Place, Wolds, Lincolnshire." 
 
 Several opposite emotions discomposed the mind of 
 Thaddeus whilst reading this epistle. Increased abhorrence 
 of the man whom he! believed to be his father, and regi-et 
 at the proposed departure of Lady Tinemouth, could 
 neither subdue the balmy effect of her maternal affection, 
 nor wholly check the emotion which the unusual mentioning 
 of Miss Beaufort's name had made throb in his heart. He 
 read the sentence which contained the assurance of her 
 esteem a third time. 
 
 " Delicious poison ! " cried he, kissing the paper ; " if 
 adoring thee, lovely Mary, be added to my other sorrows, I 
 shall be resigned ! There is sweetness even in the thought. 
 Could I credit all which my dear Lady Tinemouth affirms, 
 the conviction that I possess one kind solicitude in the
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 2yl 
 
 raincl of Miss Beaufort, would be ample compensation 
 for " 
 
 lie did not finish the sentence, but sighing profoundly, 
 rose from his chair. 
 
 " For any thing, except beholding her the wife of 
 another!" was the sentiment with which his heart panted. 
 Thaddeus had never known a selfish wish in hLs life ; anil 
 this first instance of his desiring that good to be unappro- 
 priated, which he might not himself enjoy, made him start. 
 
 " There is a fault in my heart, a dreadful one ! * Dissa- 
 tisfied with himself, he was preparing to answer her Lady- 
 ship's letter, when, turning to the date, he dicovered that 
 it had been written on Thursday night, and in consequence 
 of Nancy's neglect in not calling at the coffee-house, had 
 been delayed a day and a half before it reached his hands. 
 
 Ilis disappointment at this accident was severe. She 
 was gone, and Miss Beaufort along with her. 
 
 " Then, indeed, I am unfortunate ! " said he, holding 
 the chain in his hand, and looking on it ; "I am at once 
 deprived of all that rendered my forlorn existence in tliis 
 town tolerable ! " 
 
 He put the chain round his neck ; and, with a true lover- 
 like feeling, thought that it warmed the heart which morti- 
 fication had chilled ; but the fancy was evanescent, and he 
 again turned to watch the fading life of his friend. 
 
 " During the lapse of a few days, in wbich the General 
 appeared merely to breathe, Thaddexis, instead of his attend- 
 ance, despatched regular notes to Harley Street. In answer 
 to these excuses he commonly received little tender billets 
 from Euphemia ; the strain of which he seemed totally to 
 overlook, by the cold respect he evinced in his diurnal 
 apologies for absence. 
 
 This young lady was so full of lamentation over the 
 trouble which her elegant tutor must endure in watching 
 his sick friend, that she never thought it worth while to 
 mention any creature in the house, excepting herself and 
 her commiseration. Thaddeiis longed to enquire about 
 Miss Beaufort ; but the more he wished it, the greater was 
 his reluctance to write her name. 
 
 Things were in this situation, when one evening, as he 
 u 2
 
 292 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 was reading by the light of a soHtary candle in his little 
 sitting-room, the door opened, and Nancy stepped in, fol- 
 lowed by a person wrapped in a large black cloak. Thaddeus 
 rose. 
 
 " A lady, sir," said Nancy, courtesying. 
 The moment the girl withdrew, the visiter cast herself 
 into a chair, and sobbing aloud seemed in violent agitation. 
 The Count, astonished and alarmed, approached her, and, 
 though she was unknown, offered her every assistance in his 
 power. 
 
 Catching hold of the hand which, with the greatest 
 respect he extended towards her, she instantly displayed to 
 his tlismayed sight the features of Lady Sara Roos. 
 
 " Merciful Heaven !" exclaimed he, involuntarily start- 
 ing back. 
 
 " Do not cast me off, Constantino ! " cried she, clasping 
 
 his arm, and looking up to him with a face of anguish ; 
 
 " on you alone I now depend for happiness, for existence !" 
 
 A cold damp stood on the forehead of her auditor. A 
 
 tremour shook him from head to foot. 
 
 " Dear Lady Sara, what am I to understand by this 
 emotion ; has any thing dreadful happened ? Is Captain 
 
 Roos " 
 
 Lady Sara shuddered, and stiU grasping his hand, an- 
 swered in words, every one of which palsied the heart of 
 Thaddeus. — " He is coming home. — He is now at Ports- 
 mouth — O Constantine ! I am not yet so debased as to 
 live with him when my heart is yom-s." 
 
 At this shameful declaration, Thaddeus clenched his teeth 
 in fearful agony; and, striking his hand upon his closed eyes, 
 to shut her from his sight, he turned suddenly round, and 
 walked towards another part of the room. 
 
 Lady Sara followed him. Her cloak having fallen off, 
 now displayed her fine form in all the fervour of grief and 
 distraction ; she wrung her snowy arms in despair ; and 
 with accents rendered more piercing by the anguish of her 
 mind, exclaimed, " What ! You hate me ? You throw me 
 from you .'' Cruel, barbarous Constantine ! Can you drive 
 from your feet the woman who adores you ? Can you cast 
 her, who is without a home, into the streets .'' "
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSATT. 2f)3 
 
 Thadclciis felt his liand wet with her tears; he fixed liis 
 eyes upon her with ahnost dchrious horror. Her liat being 
 ofE, gave a loose to her long black hair, which falling in 
 masses over her shoulders and eyes, gave such additional 
 wildness to the imploring and frantic expression of those 
 eyes, as distracted his soul. 
 
 " Rise, madam ! For Heaven's sake. Lady Sara !" — and 
 ho stooped to support her. 
 
 " Never," cried she, covering her face with her hands, 
 " never ! till you promise to protect me. My liusband 
 comes home to night, and I have left his house for ever. 
 Y'ou, you ! " exclaimed she, extending her arms to his averted 
 face ; " O Constantine ! you have robbed me of my peace ! 
 On your account I have flown from my home. — For mercy's 
 sake, do not abandon me ! " 
 
 " Lady Sara," cried he, looking wildly around him, " I 
 cannot speak to you in this position ! Rise, I implore you ! " 
 
 " Only," returned she, " only say that you will protect 
 me ! That I shall find shelter here ! Say this, and I will 
 rise, and bless you for ever." 
 
 Thaddeus knew not what to reply. Distressed by her 
 imprudence, terror-struck at the violent lengths to which 
 she seemed determined to carry her unhappy and guilty 
 passion, he in vain sought to evade this direct demand; for 
 Lady Sara, perceiving the reluctance and horror of his looks, 
 sprang from her knees, and, in a more resolute voice, ex- 
 claimed, " Then, sir, you wiU not protect me ? You scorn 
 and doocrt a woman, whom you well know has long loved 
 you } "Whom, by your artful behaviour, you have reduced to 
 this disgrace ! " 
 
 The Count, surprized and shocked at this accusation, with 
 respectful gentleness, hut resolution, denied the charge. 
 
 Lady Sara again melted into tears, and supporting her 
 tottering frame against his shoulder, replied, in a stifled 
 voice, " 1 know it well : I have nothing to blame for my 
 wretched state, but my own weakness. Pardon, dear Con- 
 stantine, the dictates of my madness ! Oh ! I would gladly 
 owe such misery to any other source than myself !" 
 
 " Then, dear Lady Sara," rejoined Thaddeus, gaining 
 . V 3
 
 294 THADDEUS OF WABSA\^% 
 
 courage from tlie mildness of her manner^ " let me implore 
 you to return to your own house ! " 
 
 " Don't ask me/' cried she^ grasping his hand; " O Con- 
 stantine ! if you knew what it was to receive with smiles of 
 affection a creature whom you loathe ! you would shrink 
 with disgust from what you require. I hate Captain Roos. 
 Can I open my arms to meet him, when my heart excludes 
 him for ever ? Can I welcome him home, v/hen I wish him 
 in his grave ? " 
 
 The Count extricated his hand from her grasp. Her 
 Ladyshiji perceived the repugnance which dictated this 
 action ; and, clasping her hands together, ejacxdated, " Un- 
 happy woman that I am ! to hate, where I am loved ! to 
 love, where I am hated! — Kill me, Constantine ! " cried 
 she, turning suddenly towards him, and sinking down on a 
 chair ; " but do not give me such another look as that !" 
 
 " Dear Lady Sara," replied he, seating himself by her 
 side, " what would you have me do ? You see that I have 
 no proper means of protecting you. I have no mother, no 
 sisters, no friends to receive you. You see that I am a pooi- 
 man. Besides, your character " 
 
 " Talk not of my character !" cried she : " I will have 
 none that does not depend on you ! — Cruel Constantine : 
 you wiU not imderstand me. I want no riches, no friends, 
 but yourself. Give me your home and your arms," added 
 she, throwing herself in an agony on his bosom, and beggary 
 would be paradise ! " 
 
 Thaddeus felt a dimness spread over his eyes. So much 
 loveliness, such love, such disinterestedness, for a moment 
 obliterated every other impression on his heart ; but reco- 
 vering himself in an instant, he tore himself from her cling- 
 ing arms, and staggering back a few paces, held her off with 
 his hand, and, in a voice of distraction, exclaimed, " Leave 
 me, for pity's sake !" 
 
 " No, dearest Constantine !" cried she, aware of her ad- 
 vantage, and again casting herself at his feet; " never, never, 
 will I leave this spot till you consent that your home shall 
 be my home ! That I shall serve you for ever ! " 
 
 "All-powerful Heaven!" exclaimed Thaddeus, in an 
 agony.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. SQS 
 
 Lady Sara redoubled her tears and i)rayers. 
 
 " Seducing, dangerous woman ! " cried he, looking at her 
 with wild horror, " what is it you demand ? AVould you 
 tear from me all that renders hfe bearable ? "NFould you 
 take from me a blameless conscience, and drive me to end 
 my miserable days by a deed of desperation ? " 
 
 Despair was in every feature of liis countenance as he 
 uttered the last words, and flew from her into the apartment 
 where the General lay asleep. Little expecting to see any 
 one but the man she loved, Lady Sara rushed in after himj 
 and was again pressing to throw her imploring arms about 
 her determined victim, when her eyes were suddenly ar- 
 rested by a livid, and, she thought, dead face of a person 
 lying on the bed. Fixed to the spot, she stood for a mo- 
 ment ; then putting her spread hand on her forehead, uttered 
 a faint cry, and fell heart-struck to the floor. 
 
 Having instant conviction of her mistake, Thaddeus 
 eagerly seized the moment of her insensibility to convey her 
 home. lie hastily went to the top of the stairs, called to 
 Nancy to run for a coach, and then returning to the ex- 
 tended figure of Lady Sara, lifted her in his arms and car- 
 ried her back to the room they had left. 
 
 By the help of hartshorn and water, he restored her to a 
 sense of existence. She slowly opened her eyes; then rais- 
 ing her head, looked round her with a terrified air, when 
 her eye falling on the still open door of the General's room, 
 she caught Thaddeus by the arm, and said in a trembling 
 voice, " Oh ! take me hence." 
 
 Whilst she yet spoke, a coach stopped at the door. The 
 Count rose, and attempted to support her agitated frame 
 against his shoulder; but she trembled to such a degree that 
 he was obhged to throw his arm about her waist, and almost 
 carry her down stairs. 
 
 ■Nilien he placed her in the carriage, she said, in a faint 
 tone, " You surely will not leave me ? " 
 
 Thaddeus returned no other answer, than desiring Nancy 
 to sit by the General until she saw him again; and stepping 
 into the coach. Lady Sara snatched his hand, and bathed 
 it with her tears. 
 
 " "W^hither are you going to take me } " 
 V 4
 
 29ti THABDEVS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " You shall again, dear Lady Sara," replied he, '■'' return 
 to a guiltless and peaceful home." 
 
 " 1 cannot meet my husband," cried she, wringing her 
 hands : " he will see all my premeditated guilt in my coun- 
 tenance. O ! Constantine, have pity on me ! Miserable 
 creature that I am !" added she, redoubling her grief: " It 
 is horrible to live with you ! It is dreadful to live with 
 him ! Take me not home, I entreat you \" 
 
 The Count took her clasped hands in his. 
 
 " Reflect for a moment, my dear Lady Sara. I believe, 
 if you love m.e, that it was in consequence of virtues which 
 you thought I possessed." 
 
 '^ Indeed you do me justice !" cried she. 
 
 He continued. 
 
 " Think, then, should I yield to the influence of your 
 
 beauty, and plunge you into a situation like that " and 
 
 he pointed to a group of unhappy women assembled at the 
 corner of Pall Mall. Lady Sara drew back with a thrill of 
 horror : " Think, where would be, not only your innocence, 
 but its price } I being no longer worthy of your esteem, 
 you would hate me; you would hate yourself; and we 
 should continue together, two giiilty creatures abhorring each 
 other." 
 
 Lady Sara, drowned in tears, did not articulate any sounds 
 but deep sighs until the coach stopped in St. James's Place. 
 
 " Go in with me," were all the words she could utter, as 
 pulling her veil over her face, she gave him her hand to 
 assist her down the step. 
 
 " Is Captain Roos arrived ? " asked Thaddeus of a ser- 
 vant, who, to his gi-eat joy, replied in the negative. During 
 the drive, he had alarmed himself by anticipating the dis- 
 agreeable suspicions which might arise in the mind of the 
 husband, should he see his wife in her present strange and 
 distracted state. 
 
 When Thaddeus seated Lady Sara in her drawing-room, 
 he offered to take a respectful leave ; but she laid one hand 
 on his arm, whilst with the other she covered her convulsed 
 features, and said, " Constantine, before you go ; before 
 Ave part, perhaps eternally; O! tell me that you do not hate
 
 THADDEfS OF WARS.iW. 297 
 
 me ! That you do not hate me !" repeated she, in a fiimcr 
 tone : " I know too v.ell liow deeply I am despised." 
 
 " Cease, my dearest madam," returned he, tenderly re- 
 placing her on the sofa, " cease these vehement expressions. 
 Shame does not depend on possessing passions, but on yield- 
 ing to them. You have conquered. Lady Sara ; and, in 
 future, I shall respect and love you as a dear friend. Who- 
 ever holds the first place in my heart, you shall always re- 
 tain the second." 
 
 ''Noble! generous Constantino!" cried she, straining 
 his hand to her lips, and bathing it with her tears ; " I 
 can require no more. ^lay Heaven bless you wherever you 
 go!" 
 
 Thaddeus dropped upon his knee, imprinted on both her 
 hands a compassionate and fervent kiss, and rising hastily, 
 quitted the room without a word. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 The dream-like consternation which enveloped the Count's 
 faculties after the preceding scene was dissipated next 
 morning by the appearance of Dr. Cavendish. When he 
 saw the General, he declared it to be his opinion, that in 
 consequence of his long and tranquil slumbers some favour- 
 able crisis was near : — " Probably," added he, " the reco- 
 very of his intellects. Such phenomena, in these cases, often 
 happen immediately before death." 
 
 " Heaven grant it may in this !" ejaculated the Count; 
 " to hear his venerable voice again acknowledge that I have 
 acted by him as became the grandson of his friend, would be 
 a comfort to me." 
 
 " But, sir," said the kind physician, touching his burning 
 hand, " you must not forget the cares which are due to your 
 own life. If you wish well to the General during the few 
 days he may have to live, you are indispensably obliged to 
 preserve your own strength. You are already ill, and require 
 air. I have an hour of leisure," continued he, pulling out
 
 298 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 his watch ; " I will remain here till you have taken two or 
 three walks round the Park. It is absolutely necessary; in 
 this instance I must take the privilege of friendship^ and 
 insist on obedience." 
 
 Seeing the benevolent Cavendish would not be denied, 
 Thaddeus took his hat, and with harassed spirits walked 
 down the lane towards Charing Cross. 
 
 On entering Spring Garden gate, to his extreme surprise 
 the first objects which met his sight were Miss Euphemia 
 Dundas and Miss Beaufort. 
 
 Euphemia accosted him with ten thousand enquiries re- 
 specting his friend, besides congratulations on his own good 
 looks. 
 
 Thaddeus bowed ; then smiling faintly, turned to the 
 blushing Mary; who, conscious of what had passed in the 
 late conversation between herself and Lady Tinemouth, 
 trembled so much that, fearing to excite the suspicion of 
 Miss E. Dundas by such tremour, she withdrew her arm, and 
 walked forward alone, tottering at every step. 
 
 " I thought. Miss Beaufort," said he, addressing himself 
 to her, " that Lady Tinemouth was to have had the hap- 
 piness of your company to Harwold Park ? " 
 
 " Yes," returned she, fearfully raising her eyes to his 
 face ; the hectic glow of which conveyed impressions to her 
 different from those which Euphemia expressed ; " but to 
 my indescribable alarm and tUsappoiutment, the morning 
 after I had written to fix my departure with her Ladyship, 
 my aunt's foot caught in the iron of the stair-carpet as she 
 Avas coming down stairs; and throwing her from the top to 
 the bottom, broke her leg. I could not quit her a moment 
 during her agonies; and the surgeons having expressed their 
 fears that a fever might ensue, I was obliged altogether to 
 decline my attendance on the Countess." 
 
 " And how is Mrs. Dorothy ?" enquired Thaddeus, truly 
 concerned at the accident. 
 
 " She is better, though confined to her bed," replied 
 Euphemia, speaking before her companion could open her 
 lips ; " and indeed poor Mary and myself have been such 
 close nurses, my mother insisted on our walking out to-day.
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 299 
 
 " And Lady Tinemouth^" returned Thaddeus, again 
 addressing Miss Beaufort, " of course, she went alone?" 
 
 " Alas, yes ! " replied she : " Rliss Egerton was forced 
 to join her family in Leicestershire." 
 
 '' I believe," cried Euphemia, sighing, " Miss Egerton is 
 going to be married. Hers has been a long attachment. 
 Happy girl ! I have heard Captain Roos, whose lieutenant 
 her intended husband was, declare that he is the finest 
 young man in the navy. Did you ever see Mr. Montre- 
 sor .'' " added she, turning her pretty eyes on the Count. 
 
 " I never had that honour." 
 
 " Bless me ! that is odd, considering your intimacy with 
 ]\Iiss Egerton. I assure you he is very charming." 
 
 Thaddeus neither heard this, nor a great deal more of the 
 same trifling chit-chat, which was slipping from the tongue 
 of !Miss Euphemia ; so intently were his eyes (sent by his 
 heart) searching the downcast, but expressive, countenance 
 of Miss Beaufort. His soul was full ; and the fluctuations 
 of her colour, with the embarrassment of her steji, interested 
 and affected him. 
 
 " Then you do not leave town for some time. Miss Beau- 
 fort ? " enquired he : " 1 may yet anticipate the honour of 
 seeing " he hesitated a moment, then added in a de- 
 pressed tone — " your aunt when I next wait on the Misses 
 Dundas." 
 
 '^ Our stay depends entirely on her health," returned she, 
 striving to rally herself; " and I am sure she w-ill be happy 
 to see you better ; for I am sorry to say, I cannot agree with 
 Euphemia in thinking you look well." 
 
 " Merely a slight fever," replied he ; '' the effect of an 
 anxiety, wliich I fear will too soon cease in the death of its 
 cause. I came out now, for a little air, whilst tlie physician 
 remains with my friend." 
 
 " Poor old gentleman !" sighed ]\Iary, " how venerable 
 was his appearance the morning in which we saw him in 
 the Park ! AVhat a benign countenance ! ' 
 
 " His countenance," replied Thaddeus, his eyes turning 
 mournfully towards the lovely speaker, " is the emblem of 
 his character. He was the most amiable of men. ' 
 
 " And you are hkely to lose so interesting a friend.'' dear
 
 300 THADDEUg OF WARSAW. 
 
 Mr. Constantine^ how I pity j-cu!" As Euphemia uttered 
 these words, she put the corner of her glove to her eye. 
 
 The Count locked at her, and perceiving that her com- 
 miseration was aiFectation, he turned to Miss Beaufort, 
 who was walking pensively by his side, and made further 
 enquiries respecting Rlrs. Dorothy. Anxious to be again 
 with his friend, he was preparing to quit them, when Mary, 
 as with a full heart she courtesied her adieu, in a hurried 
 and confused manner, said — " Pray, Mr. Constantino, take 
 care of yourself. You have other friends besides the one 
 you are going to lose. I know Lady Tinemouth, I know 
 
 my aunt " she stopped short, and, covered with blushes, 
 
 stood panting for another word to close the sentence ; when 
 Thaddeus forgetting all presence but her own, with delighted 
 precipitancy caught hold of the hand, which in her confusion 
 was a little extended towards him, and pressing it with 
 fervour, relinquished it immediately : overcome by con- 
 fusion at the presumption of the action, he bowed with 
 agitation to both ladies, and hastened through the Friary 
 passage into St. James's Street. 
 
 " Miss Beaufort ! " cried Euphemia, reddening with vex- 
 ation, and returning a perfumed handkerchief to her pocket, 
 " I did not understand that you and Mr. Constantino were 
 on such intimate terms ! " 
 
 " I'i'^hat do you mean, Euphemia.''" 
 
 " That you have betrayed the confidence I reposed in 
 you," cried the angry beauty, wiping away the really start- 
 ing tears with her vvdiite lace cloak; " I told you the elegant 
 Constantino was the lord of my heart; and you have seduced 
 him from me ! Till you came, he was so respectful, so tender, 
 so devoted ! — But I am rightly used ! I ought to have car- 
 ried my secret to the grave." 
 
 In vain Miss Beaufort protested ; in vain she declared 
 herself ignorant of possessing any power over even one wish of 
 Constantine. Euphemia thought it monstrous pretty to be 
 the injured friend and forsaken mistress ; and all along the 
 Park, and up Constitution Hill, until they arrived at Lady 
 Dundas's carriage, which was waiting opposite Devonshire 
 wall, she affected to weep. When seated, she continued 
 her invectives : — she called Miss Beaufort ungenerous, per-
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 301 
 
 fidious, traitor to friendship ; and every romantic and dis- 
 loyal name^ which her inflamed fancy could devise ; till 
 the sight of Harley Street checked her transports, and 
 relieved her patient hearer from a load of impertinence and 
 abuse. 
 
 During this short interview, Thaddeus received an im- 
 pulse to his affections which hurried them forward with a 
 force that neither time nor succeeding sorrows could stop 
 nor stem. 
 
 Mary's heavenly-beaming eyes seemed to have encircled 
 his head widi Love's brightest halo. The command, " Pre- 
 serve yourself for others besides your dying friend," yet 
 throbbed at his heart ; and with ten thousand rapturous 
 visions dancing before his sight, he trod in air, until the 
 humble door of his melancholy home presenting itself, at 
 once wrecked the illusion, and oflPered sad reaUty in the 
 person of his emaciated friend. 
 
 On the Count's entrance into the sick chamber, Doctor 
 Cavendish gave him a few directions to pursue ^\Iien the 
 General should awake from the sleep into which he had 
 been sunk for so many hours. ^V^ith a heart the more de- 
 pressed from its late unusual exaltation, Thaddeus sat down 
 on the bed for the remainder of the day. 
 
 At five in the afternoon. General Butzou awoke ; seeing 
 the Count, he stretched out his withered hand, and, as the 
 Doctor predicted, accosted him rationally. 
 
 '' Come, dear Sobieski ! Come nearer, my dear master ! " 
 
 Thaddeus rose, and throvring himself on his knees, took 
 the ofFercd hand with apparent composure. It was a hard 
 struggle to restrain the emotions which were roused by this 
 awful contemplation; — the return of reason to the soul, 
 on the instant she was summoned into the presence of her 
 Maker ! 
 
 " My kind, my beloved Lord ! " added Butzou, " to me 
 you have, indeed, performed a Christian's part ; you have 
 clothed, sheltered, and preserved me in your bosom. Blessed 
 son of my most honoured master ! " 
 
 The good old man put the hand of Thaddeus to his lips. 
 Thaddeus could not speak. 
 
 " I am going, dear Sobiesld," continued the General, in
 
 .'302 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 a lower voice, " where I shall meet your noble grandfather, 
 your mother, and my brave countrymen ; and if Heaven 
 grants me power, I will tell them by whose labour 1 have 
 lived, on Avhose breast I have expired." 
 
 Thaddeus could no longer restrain his tears. 
 
 " Dear, dear General ! " exclaimed he, grasping his hand, 
 '' my grandfather, my mother, my country ! I lose them 
 all again in thee! — O! would the same summons take me 
 hence ! " 
 
 " Hush ! " returned the dying man : " Heaven reserves 
 you, my honoured Lord, for wise purposes. Youth and 
 health are the marks of commission * : you possess them, 
 with virtues which will bear you through the contest. / 
 have done ; and my merciful Judge has evinced his pardon 
 of my eri'ors, by sparing me in my old age, and leading me 
 to die with you." 
 
 Thaddeus pressed his friend's hand to his streaming 
 eyes, and promised to be resigned. Butzou smiled his sa- 
 tisfaction ; then closing his eyelids, he composed himself to 
 a rest that was neither sleep nor stupor, but a balmy 
 serenity which seemed to be tempering his lately recovered 
 soul, for its immediate entrance on a world of eternal 
 peace. 
 
 At nine o'clock his breath became broken with quick 
 sighs. The Count's heart trembled, and he drew closer to 
 the pillow. Butzou felt him ; and opening his eyes lan- 
 guidly, hardly articulated (though not a sound escaped the 
 ear of his friend), " Raise my head." 
 
 Thaddeus put his arm under his neck, and lifting him 
 up, reclined him against his bosom. Butzou grasped his 
 
 * I cannot but pause here, in revising the volume, to publicly express the 
 emotion, grateful to Heaven, I experienced on receiving a letter, quoting these 
 words, many, many years ago. It was from the CNcellcnt Joseph Fox, the 
 well-known Christian philanthropist of our country, v,ho spent bntS his fortune 
 and his life in establishing and sustaining several of our best charitable and other- 
 wise patriotic institutions. And once, when some of liis anxious friends would 
 gladly have persuaded him to grant himself more personal indulgences, and to 
 labour less in the then recently begun plans for national education, he wrote, 
 " to the autlior of Thaddeus of Warsaw," and, quoting to her those words 
 from the work, declared " they were on his heart! and he would, with the 
 blessing of God, perform what he believed to be his commission to the last 
 powers of his youth and health." 
 
 Such things make a novel-writer feel answerable for something more, in his 
 or her pages, than the purpose of mere amusement.
 
 TUADDEUS OF WARSAW. 303 
 
 hands, and looking gratefully in his face, said, " The arms 
 of a soldier should be a soldier's bed. I am content." 
 
 He lay for a moment on the breast of the almost fainting 
 Thaddeus ; then suddenly quitting his hold, he cried, " I 
 lose you, Sobieski !" 
 
 " I am here," exclaimed the Count, catching his mo- 
 tionless hand. The dying General murmured a few words 
 of blessing ; and turning his face inwards, breathed his last 
 sigh on the heart of his last friend. 
 
 For a minute Sobieski remained incapable of thought or 
 action. "When he recovered recollection, he withdrew from 
 his melancholy station ; and laying the venerable remains 
 of the General on the bed, did not trust his rallied faculties 
 with a second trial ; but hastening down stairs, was met by 
 Mrs. Robson. 
 
 " My dear madam," said he, " all is over witli my poor 
 friend. A\'ill you do me the kindness to perform those 
 duties to his sacred relics which I cannot ? " 
 
 Thaddeus would not allow any person to watch by his 
 friends coffin, besides himself. The meditations of this 
 solitary night presented to his sound and sensible mind 
 evei-y argument, rather to induce rejoicing than regret that 
 the eventful life of the brave Butzou was terminated. 
 
 " Yes, illustrious old man ! " cried he, gazing on his 
 marble features ; " if valour and virtue be the true sources 
 of nobility, thou surely wast noble ! Inestimable defender 
 of Stanislaus and thy country ! thou hast run a long and 
 bright career ; and though thou art fated to rest in the 
 humble grave of poverty, it will be embalmed by the tears 
 of Heaven ; it will be engraven on my heart." ■ 
 
 Thaddeus did not weep whilst he spoke. Nor did he 
 weep when he beheld the mould of St. Paul's, Covent 
 Garden, close from his view the last dwelling of his friend. 
 It began to rain. Doctor Cavendish, putting his arm 
 through the Count's, tried to pull him away ; but he lin- 
 gered a moment, and looking on the dust as the sexton 
 piled it up, '' Wretched Poland ! " sighed he, " how far 
 from thee lies one of thy bravest sons ! " 
 
 Doctor Cavendish regarded him with pity and admir- 
 ation ; but he vainly attempted to persuade him to return
 
 304 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 v;ith liim to dinner : Thacldeus refused the kind invitation, 
 alleging, Avith a faint smile, that under every misfortune he 
 found his hest comforter in solitude. 
 
 Respecting the resignation and manliness of this answer. 
 Doctor Cavendish urged him no further ; but expressing 
 his regret that he could not see him again until the end of 
 the week, as he was obliged to go to Stamford next day on 
 a medical consultation, he shook hands with him at the 
 door of Mrs. Robson, and bade him farewell. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 Next morning, when the Count Sobieski unfolded the seve- 
 ral packets of papers which were put into his hands by Uttle 
 Nancy, he laid them one after the other on the table, and 
 sighing heavily, said to himself, " Now comes the bitterness 
 of poverty ! — Heaven only knows by what means I shall 
 defray these terrific charges." 
 
 The mere personal privations induced by his fallen for- 
 tunes excited httle uneasiness in the mind of Thaddeus. As 
 he never had derived peculiar gratification from the enjoy- 
 ment of a magnificent house, splendid table, and numerous 
 attendants, he was contented in the field, where he slept on 
 the bare ground, and snatched his hasty meal at uncertain 
 intervals. Watching, rough fare, and other hardships, 
 were dust in the path of honour ; he had dashed through 
 them with light and buoyant spirits : — and he repined as 
 little at the actual wants of his forlorn state in exile ; until, 
 compelled by friendship to contract demands which he could 
 not defray, he was plunged at once into the full horrors of 
 IKiveTty and debt. 
 
 He looked at the amount of the bills. The apothecary's 
 v/as fifteen pounds ; the funeral twenty. Thaddeus turned 
 I>ale. The value of all that he possessed would not produce 
 one half of the sum ; besides, he owed five guineas to his 
 good landlady, for numerous little comforts procured for 
 his deceased friend.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 305 
 
 " Whatever be the consequence/' cried he, " that excel- 
 lent Avoman shall not suffer by her humanity ! If I have 
 to part with the last memorial of them who were so dear, 
 she shall be repaid." 
 
 He scarcely had ceased speaking, when Nancy re-entered 
 the room, and told him the apothecary's young man, and 
 the undertaker, were both below, waiting for answers to 
 their letters. Reddening with disgust at the unfeeling 
 avidity of these men, he desired Nancy to say he could not 
 see either of them to-day, but would send to their houses 
 to-morrow. 
 
 In consequence of this promise, the men made their bows 
 to Mrs. llobson (who too well guessed the reason of this 
 message), and took their leave. 
 
 AFhen Thaddeus put the pictures of his mother and the 
 Palatine, with other trinkets, into his pocket, he could not 
 forbear an internal invective against the thoughtless mean- 
 ness of the Misses Dundas ; who had never oftered any far- 
 ther liquidation of the large sum they now stood indebted 
 to him, than the trifling note which had been transmitted 
 to him, prior to his attendance, through the hands of Lady 
 Tinemouth. 
 
 Whilst his necessities reproached them for this illiberal 
 conduct, his proud heart recoiled at making a request to 
 their charity ; for he had gathered from the haughty de- 
 demeanour of Miss Diana, that what he was entitled to 
 demand, would be given, not as a just remuneration for 
 labour received, but as alms of humanity to an indigent 
 emigrant. 
 
 " I would rather perish," cried he, putting on his hat, 
 " than ask that woman for a shilling." 
 
 AVhen the Count laid his treasure on the table of the 
 worthy pawnbroker, he desired to have the value of the set- 
 tings, and the pictures put into leather cases. Having ex- 
 amined the gold of the miniatures and the other trinkets, 
 Mr. Burket declared on the word of an honest man, he could 
 not give him more than fifteen poiuids. 
 
 "With difficulty Thaddeus stifled as torturing a sigh as 
 ever distended his breast, whilst he said — 
 
 " I will take it. I only implore you to be careful of the
 
 306 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 things ; trifling as they are^ circumstances with which they 
 were connected render them valuable to me." 
 
 " You may depend on me, sir," replied the pawnbroker, 
 presenting him with the notes and acknowledgment. 
 
 When Thaddeus took them, Mr. Burket's eye was caught 
 by the ring on his finger. 
 
 " That ring seems curious ! If you won't think me im- 
 pertinent, may I ask to look at it ? " 
 
 The Count puUed it oiF, and forcing a smile, replied, " I 
 suppose it is of little intrinsic value. The setting is trifling, 
 but the painting is fine." 
 
 Burket breathed on the diamonds. " If you were to sell 
 it," returned he, " I don't think it would fetch more than 
 three guineas. The diamonds are damaged ; and the eme- 
 ralds would be of little use, being out of fashion here ; as for 
 tlie miniature, it goes for nothing." 
 
 " Of course," said Thaddeus, putting it on again ; " but 
 I shall never part with it." While he drew on his glove, 
 Mr. Burket asked him, whether the head were not intended 
 for the King of Poland ? " 
 
 The Count, surprised, answered in the affirmative. 
 
 " I thought so," answered the man ; " it is very like two 
 or three prints which I had in my shop of that king. In- 
 deed I believe I have them somewhere now : these matters 
 are but a nine days' wonder, and the sale is over." 
 
 His auditor did not clearly comprehend him, and he told 
 him so. 
 
 " I meant nothing," continued he, " to the disparage- 
 ment of the King of Poland ; or of any other great per- 
 sonage, who is much the subject of conversation. I only 
 intended to say, that every thing has its fashion. The ruin 
 of Poland was the fashionable topic for a month after it 
 happened ; and now nobody minds it ; it is extinct ; it is 
 forgotten." * 
 
 Thaddeus, in whose bosom all its miseries were written, 
 ■with a clouded brow bowed to the remarks of Mr. Burket, 
 and in silence quitted the shop. 
 
 * The author has got a very correct likeness of this memorable kiiip:, copied 
 from an original miniature ; ami it is not one of the least vaiucd portraits in a 
 little room which contains those of several other heroes of different countries, 
 .— friends and gallant foes. 
 
 I
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 307 
 
 Having arrived at home, he tlischargecl his debt to the 
 worthy Mrs. Robson ; then entering his room, lie laid the 
 remainder of his money on the bills of the two claimants. 
 It was unequal to the demands of either ; yet, in some 
 measure to be just to both, he determined on dividing it 
 between them ; and to promise the liquidation of the rest 
 by degrees. 
 
 Surely he might hope, that even should the Misses Dun- 
 das entirely forget his claims on them, he could, in the 
 course of time, make drawings sufficient to cover the residue 
 of the debt ! but he was not permitted to put this calcu- 
 lation to the trial. 
 
 When he called on the apothecary, and offered him what 
 was less than half his demand, the man refused it with 
 insolence, insisting upon having the whole. Unused to the 
 language of compulsion and vulgarity, the Count quitted 
 the shop ; telling the man that he was at liberty to act as 
 he thought fit ; and, with no very serene countenance, 
 he entered the undertaker's warehouse. This man was 
 civil : to him Thaddeus gave the sum, half of which the 
 apothecary had rejected with so much derision. The un- 
 dertaker's 'politeness a little calmed the irritated temper of 
 the Count ; who returned home, musing on the vile nature 
 of that class of mankind, who can with indifference heap 
 insult upon distress. 
 
 Judging men by his own disposition, he seldom gave 
 credence to the possibility of such conduct. He had been 
 told of dastardly spirits ; but never having seen them, and 
 possessing 'no archetype within his own breast of what he 
 heard, the repeated relation passed over his mind without 
 leaving an impression. He sprung into the world, filled 
 with animating hopes of virtue and renown. He was vir- 
 tuous ; he became powerful, great, and renowned. Crea- 
 tion seemed paradise to his eyes ; it was the task of adver- 
 sity to teach him a different lesson of mankind. Not less 
 virtuous, not less great, his fortunes fell, he became poor ; 
 the perfidy, the hard-heartedness of man, made, and kept 
 him friendless. When he wanted succour and consolution, 
 he found the world peopled by a race too mean, even to 
 bear the stamp of the devil.
 
 808 ' THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 Whilst Sobieski was employed next morning at his draw- 
 ing, Mrs. Robson sent Nancy to say, there were two strange- 
 looking men below, who wanted to speak with him. Not 
 doubting they were messengers from the apothecary, he de- 
 sired the girl to show them up stairs. When they entered 
 his room, the Count rose. One of the men stepped forward, 
 and laying a slip of paper on the table, said, " I arrest you, 
 sir, at the suit of Mr. Jackson the apothecary." 
 
 Thaddeus coloured ; but suppressing every indignant 
 emotion, he calmly asked the men whither they were going 
 to take him ? 
 
 " If you like," replied one of them, " you may be well 
 enough lodged. I never heard a word against Clements' 
 in Wych Street." 
 
 " Is that a prison .^ " enquired Thaddeus. 
 
 " No, not exactly that, sir," answered the other man laugh- 
 ing. " You seem to know little of the matter, which, for 
 a Frenchman, is odd enough ! but mayhap you have never 
 a lock-up-house in France ? Howsomevcr, if you pay well, 
 Mr. Clements wiU give you lodgings as long as you like. 
 It is only poor rogues who are obligated to go to Newgate ; 
 such gemmcn as you can live as ginteelly in 'Wych Street as 
 at their own houses." 
 
 There was such an air of derision about this fellow, as 
 he spoke and glanced round the room, that Thaddeus, 
 sternly contracting his brows, deigned to take no further 
 notice of him ; but, turning towards his more civil com- 
 panion, said — 
 
 " Has this person informed me rightly } Am I going 
 to a prison, or am I not ? If I do not possess money to 
 pay Mr. Jackson, I can have none to spend elsewhere." 
 
 " Then you must go to Newgate ! " answered the man, 
 in as surly a tone as his comrade's had been insolent. 
 
 " I '11 run for a coach, Wilson," cried the other, opening 
 the room-door. 
 
 '' I will not pay for one," said Thaddeus, at once com- 
 prehending the sort of wretches into whose custody he had 
 fallen : " follow me down stairs. I shall walk." 
 
 Mrs. Ilobson was in her shop as he passed to the street. 
 She called out, " You will come home to dinner, sir } "
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 309 
 
 " No," replied he ; " but you shall hear from me before 
 night." 
 
 The men, winking at each other, sullenly pursued his 
 steps down the Lane. In the Strand, Thaddeus asked them 
 which way he was to proceed ? 
 
 " Straight on," cried one of them ; " most folks find 
 the road to a gaol easy enough." 
 
 Involved in thought, the Count walked forward, un- 
 mindful of the stare which the well-known occupation of his 
 attendants attracted towards him. ^V'hen he arrived at 
 Somerset House, one of the men stepped up to him, and 
 said, " ^Ve are now nearly opposite ^\'^ych Street. You 
 had better take your mind again, and go there instead of 
 Newgate. I don't much think you will like the debtor's 
 hole." 
 
 Thaddeus, coldly thankinghim, repeated his determination 
 to be led to Newgate. But when he beheld the immense 
 walls, within which he believed he should be immured for 
 life, his feet seemed rooted to the ground ; and when the 
 massy gates were ojiened, and closed upon him, he felt as 
 if suddenly deprived of the vital spring of existence. A 
 mist spread over his eyes, his soul shuddered, and with 
 difficulty he followed the men into the place where his 
 commitment was to be ratified. Here all the proud ener- 
 gies of his nature again rallied round his heart. 
 
 The brutal questions of the people in office, re-echoed 
 by taunts from the wretches who had brought him to the 
 prison, were of a strain so much beneath his answering, 
 that he stood perfectly silent during the business; and when 
 dismissed without evincing any signs of discomposure, he 
 followed the turnkey to his cell. 
 
 One deal chair, a table, and a miserable bed, were all 
 the furniture it contained. The floor was paved with flags; 
 and the sides of the apartment daubed with discoloured 
 plaster, part of which having been peeled oft" by the damp, 
 exposed to view large spaces of the naked stones. 
 
 Before the turnkey withdrew, he asked Thaddeus whether 
 he wanted any thing ? 
 
 " Only a pen, ink, and paper." 
 
 The man held out his hand. 
 X 3
 
 310 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 *' I have no money^" replied Sobieski. 
 
 " Then you get nothing here," answered the fellow, 
 pulling the door after him. 
 
 Thaddeus threw himself on the chair, and in the bitter- 
 ness of the moment, exclaimed " Can these scoundrels be 
 Christians ? can they be men ? " He cast his eyes round 
 him with the wildness of despair : " All-powerful Heaven ! 
 can it be possible that for a few guineas I am to be con- 
 fined in this place during life ? In these narrow bounds, 
 am I to waste my youth, my existence ? Even so : I can- 
 not, I will not degrade the spirit of Poland, by imploring 
 assistance from any native of a land, in which avarice has 
 extinguished the feelings of humanity." 
 
 By the next morning, the first paroxysm of indignation 
 having subsided, Thaddeus entertained a cooler and more 
 reasonable opinion of his situation. He considered, that 
 though he was a prisoner, it was in consequence of debts 
 incurred in behalf of a friend, whose latter hours were 
 rendered less wretched by such means. Notwithstanding 
 " all that man could do unto him," he had brought an 
 approving conscience, to lighten the glooms of his dungeon ; 
 and resuming his wonted serenity, he continued to distance 
 the impertinent freedom of his gaolers by a stern dignity, 
 which extorted civility and commanded respect. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 Several days elapsed without the inhabitants of Harley 
 Street hearing any tidings of Thaddeus. 
 
 Miss Dundas never bestowed a thought on his absence, 
 except when descanting on her favourite subject, " the 
 insolence of dependent people," she alleged his daring to 
 withdraw himself, as an instance. Miss Eupheraia uttered 
 all her complaints to Miss Beaufort, whom she accused, 
 of not being satisfied with seducing the affections of Mr. 
 Constantine ; but she must also spirit him away, lest by 
 remorse he should be induced to renew his former devotion 
 at the shrine of her tried constancy.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 311 
 
 Mary found these secret conferences very frequent and 
 very teasinp;. She beUeved neither the Count's past devoirs 
 to Euphemia, nor his present allegiance to herself. A\'ith 
 anxiety she watched the slow decline of every succeeding 
 day, hoping that each knock at the door would present 
 either himself, or an apology for his absence. 
 
 In vain her reason urged the weakness and folly of giving 
 way to the influence of a passion, as violent as it was un- 
 foreseen. " It is not his personal graces/' murmured she, 
 whilst her dewy eyes remained rivetted on the floor ; " it 
 is not they ; — they have not accomplished this effect on 
 lue ! No ; matchless as he is ; though his countenance, 
 when illumined by the rare splendours of genius, expresses 
 godhke beauty ; yet my heart tells me, I would rather see 
 all that perfection demolished, than lose one beam of those 
 bright charities which first attracted my esteem. Yes, 
 Constantine !" cried she, rising in agitation; " I could 
 adore thy virtues, were they even in the bosom of deformity. 
 It is these that I love; it is these that are thyself! it is 
 thy noble, godlike soul, that so entirely fiUs my heart ; 
 and will for ever ! " 
 
 She recalled the hours, which in his society glided so 
 swiftly by, to pass in review before her. They came, and 
 her tears redoubled. Neither his words nor his looks had 
 been kinder to her than to jMiss Egerton, or Lady Sara 
 Roos. She remembered his wild action in the Park : it had 
 transported her at the moment ; it even now made her heart 
 throb ; but she ceased to believe it intended more than an 
 animated expression of gratitude. 
 
 An adverse apprehension seemed to have taken possession 
 of her breast. In proportion to the vehemence of JNIiss 
 Euphemia's reproaches (who insisted on the passion of 
 Thaddeus), she the more doubted the evidence of those 
 delightful emotions, which had rushed over her soul when 
 she found her hand so fervently pressed in liis. 
 
 Euphemia never made a secret of the tintdresse she pro- 
 fessed : and Miss Beaufort having been taught by her own 
 heart to read cUstinctly the eyes of Lady Sara, the result of 
 her observations had long acted as a caustic on her peace ; 
 it robbed her cheeks of their bloom, and compelled her to 
 X 4
 
 S12 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 number the lingering minutes of the night with sighs. But 
 her deep and modest flame assumed no violence ; retreated 
 far from sight, it burnt the more intensely. 
 
 Instead of over-valuing the fine person of Thaddeus, the 
 encomiums which it exacted, even from the lips of preju- 
 dice, occasioned one source of her pain. She could not bear 
 to think it probable, that the man whom she believed, and 
 knew, to be gifted with every attribute of goodness and of 
 heroism, might one day be induced to sacrifice the rich 
 treasure of his mind, to a creature who would select him 
 from the rest, merely on account of his exterior superiority. 
 
 Such was the train of ]\Iary's meditations, when covering 
 her face with her handkerchief, she exclaimed in a tender 
 and interrupted voice, " Ah ! why did I leave my quiet 
 home, to expose myself to the vicissitudes of society ? 
 sequestered from the world, neither its pageants nor its 
 mortifications could have reached me there. I have seen 
 thee, matchless Constantine ! Like a bright star, thou hast 
 passed before my eyes ! Like a being of a superior order ! 
 And I never, never can debase my nature to love another. 
 Thy image shall follow me into solitude ; shall consecrate 
 my soul to the practice of every virtue ! I will emulate 
 thy excellence, when, perhaps, thou hast forgotten that I 
 exist." 
 
 The fit of despondence which threatened to succeed this 
 last melancholy reflection was interrupted by the sudden 
 entrance of Euphemia. Miss Beaufort hastily rose, and 
 drew her ringlets over her eyes. 
 
 '^ O, Mary!" cried the little beauty, holding up her 
 pretty hands, " what do you think has happened I" 
 
 " What ? " demanded she in alarm, and hastening towards 
 the door, " any thing to my aunt ? " 
 
 " No, no," answered Euphemia, catching her by the 
 arm ; " but could my injured heart derive satisfaction from 
 revenge, I should now be happy. Punishment has over- 
 taken the faithless Constantine." 
 
 Miss Beaufort looked aghast ; and grasping the back of 
 a chair to prevent her falling, breathlessly enquired what 
 she meant ? 
 
 "Oh! he is sent to prison!" cried Euphemia, not
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 313 
 
 regarding the real agitation of her auditor (so was she 
 occupied in appearing overwhelmed herself), and wringing 
 her hands, she continued, " that frightful wretch, Mr. 
 Lascelles, is just come in to dinner. You cannot think 
 with what devilish glee he told me, that about a week ago, 
 as he was driving out of town, he saAv Mr. Constantine 
 with two bailiffs behind him walking down Fleet Street ! 
 And besides, I verily believe he said he had irons on." 
 
 " Father of Heaven \" ejaculated Mary, with a cry of 
 terror at this ad libitum of Euphemia's, " what can he have 
 done ? " 
 
 " Bless my soul, child," returned Euphemia, staring at 
 her as she sat pale and trembling in a chair ; " why what 
 frightens you so } Does not every body run in debt, with- 
 out minding it .'' " 
 
 Miss Beaufort shook her liead ; and looking distractedly 
 about her, put her hand to her forehead. Euphemia, now 
 quite alarmed, forced her to drink some water ; and whilst 
 the horror-struck i\Iary, with ten thousand vague and 
 hideous fancies racking her heart, leaned against the wall, 
 the little beauty, unconscious what part of her narrative 
 occasioned these emotions, thought to obliterate what she 
 had said, by saying more ; and determining not to be out- 
 done in " tender icoe," drew forth her handkerchief, and 
 putting it to her eyes, resumed in a piteous tone — 
 
 " I am sure I shall hate Lascelles all my life, because he 
 did not stop the men, and enquire what gaol they were 
 taking him to ! You know, my dear, you and I might 
 have visited him. It would have been delightful to have 
 consoled his sad hours ! We might have planned his 
 escape." 
 
 " In irons !" ejaculated Mary, raising her tearless eye to 
 Heaven. 
 
 Euphemia coloured at the agonised manner in which 
 these words were reiterated, and rather confusedly replied, 
 " Not absolutely in irons. You know that is a metaphor- 
 ical term for captivity." 
 
 "Then he was not in irons?" cried Miss Beaufort, 
 seizing her hand eagerly : " tell me, for Heaven's sake, 
 tell me, he was not in irons .'' "
 
 314 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " Why then/' returned Eupheraia, half angry at being 
 obliged to contradict herself, " if you are such a fool that 
 you cannot understand poetical language^ I must tell you he 
 was not." 
 
 Mary heard no further ; but even at the moment when a 
 bright glow overspread her countenance, feU back senseless 
 into the chair. 
 
 Euphemia flew to the top of the stairs, and shrieking 
 violently, stood wringing her hands, until Diana and Lady 
 Dundas, followed by several gentlemen, hastened out of the 
 saloon and demanded what was the matter .'' As Eujihemia 
 pointed to Miss Beaufort's dressing-room, she staggered, 
 and sinking into the arms of Lord Elesmere, fell into the 
 most outrageous hysterics. The Marquis, who had just 
 dropt in on his return from St. James's, was so afraid of the 
 agitated lady's tearing his point-lace ruffles, that, in almost 
 as trembling a state as herself, he gladly shuffled her into 
 the hands of her maid ; and scampering down stairs, as if 
 all Bedlam were at his heels, sprung into his vis-d-vis, and 
 drove off" like lightning. 
 
 "\nien Miss Beaufort opened her eyes, at the sight of 
 such a crowd she almost relapsed ; but trying to dispel her 
 confusion, she arose, and supporting herself on the arm of 
 Mrs. Dorothy's maid, thanked the company for their at- 
 tention, and desired to be assisted to her chamber. 
 
 Meanwhile, Euphemia, who had been carried down into 
 the saloon, thought it time to raise her lily head and utter 
 a few incoherent words : the instant they were breathed. 
 Miss Dundas and Mr. LasceUes, in one voice, demanded 
 what was the matter .'' 
 
 " Has not Mary told you ?" returned her sister, languidly 
 opening her eyes. 
 
 " No," answered Lascelles, rubbing his hands with de- 
 lighted curiosity : " come, let us have it." 
 
 Euphemia, pleased at this, and loving mystery with all 
 her heart, waved her hand solemnly, and in an awful tone 
 replied, " Then it passes not my lips." 
 
 " What, Phemy ! " cried he : " you want us to believe 
 you have seen a glaost .'' But you forget, they don't walk at 
 mid-day."
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 315 
 
 • " Believe what you like," returned she, with an air of 
 consequential contempt ; " I am satisfied to keep the se- 
 cret." 
 
 Miss Dundas burst into a provoking laugh ; and calling 
 her the most incorrigible httle idiot in the world, encouraged 
 Lascelles to join in the ridicule. Determining to gratify 
 his spleen, if he could not satisfy his curiosity, this witless 
 coxcomb continued the whole day in Harley Street, for the 
 mere pleasure of tormenting Euphemia. From the dinner 
 hour until twelve at night, neither his drowsy fancy, nor 
 wakeful malice, could find one other weapon of assault than 
 the stale jokes of nif/sterious chambers, lovers incoyiiito, or 
 the silly addition of two Cupid-struck sweeps, popping down 
 the chimney to pay their addresses to the fair friends. Diana 
 talked of Jupiter with his thunder ; and patting her sister 
 under the chin, added, " 1 cannot doubt that Miss Beaufort 
 is the favoured Semele : but, my dear, you over-acted your 
 character ! As confidant, a few tears were enough when 
 your lady fainted." During these attacks Euphemia reclined 
 pompously on a sofa ; and not deigning a reply, repelled 
 them with much conceit and haughtiness. 
 
 Miss Beaufort remained above an hour alone in her 
 chamber, before she ventured to go near her aunt. Hurt 
 to the soul that the idle folly of Euphemia should have 
 aroused a terror, which had completely unveiled to the eyes 
 of that inconsiderate girl the empire which Thaddeus held 
 over her fate, Mary, overwhelmed with shame, and arraign- 
 ing her easy credulity, threw herself on the bed. 
 
 Horror-struck at hearing he was led along the streets in 
 chains, she could have no other idea but that, hurried into 
 the commission of some dreadful deed, he was become 
 amenable to the laws, and might suffer an ignominious death. 
 These thoughts having rushed at once on her heart, deprived 
 her of self-command. In the conviction that he was a 
 murderer, she felt as if her life, her honour, her soul, were 
 annihilated. And when, in consequence of her agonies, 
 Euphemia confessed that she had, in this last matter, told 
 a falsehood, the tumult of her joy took refuge in insensi- 
 bility. 
 
 Before Miss Beaufort quitted her room, various plans
 
 SI 6 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 suggested themselves to relieve the unfortunate Thaddeus. 
 She found no hesitation in believing him poor ; and perhaps 
 rendered wretchedly so by the burden of that sick friend, 
 who she suspected might be a near relation. At any rate, 
 she resolved that another sun should not pass over her head 
 and shine on him in a prison. Having determined to pay 
 all his debts herself, she next thought of how she might 
 manage the affair without betraying the hand whence the 
 assistance came. Had her aunt been well enough to leave 
 the house, she would not have scrupled unfolding to her the 
 recent calamity of Mr, Constantine. But well aware that 
 Mrs. Dorothy's maidenly nicety would be outraged at a 
 young woman appearing the sole mover in such a business, 
 she conceived herself obliged entirely to withhold her con- 
 fidence at present, and to decide on prosecuting the whole 
 transaction alone. 
 
 In consequence of these meditations, her spirits became 
 less discomposed ; and turning towards Mrs. Dorothy So- 
 merset's apartments, she found the good lady sipping her 
 coffee. 
 
 " What is this I have just heard, my dear Mary.'' Wil- 
 liams tells me you have been ill !" 
 
 Miss Beaufort returned her aunt's gracious enquiry with 
 an affectionate kiss ; and informing her that she had only 
 been alarmed by an invention of Miss Euphemia's, begged 
 the subject might drop ; it being merely one out of the many 
 schemes which she believed that young lady had devised to 
 give her torment. 
 
 " Ah ! " replied Mrs. Dorothy, " I hope I shall be well 
 enough to travel in the course of a few days ! I can now 
 walk with a stick ; and, upon my word, I am heartily tired 
 both of Lady Dundas and her daughters." 
 
 Mary expressed similar sentiments; but as the declaration 
 passed her lips, a sigh almost buried the last word. Go 
 when she would, she must leave Constantine behind ; leave 
 him without an expectation of beholding him more ; with- 
 out a hope of penetrating the thick cloud which involved 
 him ; and with which he had ever baffled any attempt to 
 chscover his birth or misfortunes. She wept over this re- 
 finement on delicacy, and '' loved him deare)' for his mys- 
 tery."
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 317 
 
 When the dawn broke next morning, it shone on Miss 
 Beaufort's yet unclosed eyes. Sleep could find no languid 
 faculty in her head, whilst her heart was agitated with plans 
 for the relief of Thaddeus. The idea of visiting the coffee- 
 house to which she knew the Misses Dundas directed their 
 letters, and of asking questions about a young and handsome 
 man, made her timidity shrink. 
 
 " But," exclaimed she, " I am not going on an errand 
 which could spread a blush on the cheek of prudery itself. 
 I am going to impart alleviation to the sufferings of the 
 noblest creature that ever walked the earth ! " 
 
 Perhaps there are few persons who, being auditors of this 
 speech, would have decided quite so candidly on tlie super- 
 lative by wliich it was concluded. Mary herself was not 
 wholly divested of doubt about the issue of her conduct ; 
 but conscious that her motive was pure, she descended to 
 the breakfast-room Avith a quieter mind than countenance. 
 
 Never before having had occasion to throw a gloss on her 
 actions, she scarcely looked up during breakfast. ^V'hen 
 the cloth was removed, she rose suddenly from her chair, 
 and turning to INIrs. Dorothy, who sat at the other end of 
 the parlour with her foot on a stool, said in a low voice, 
 " Good-by, aunt. I am going to make some particular 
 calls ; but I shall be back in a few hours." Luckily, no 
 one observed her blushing face whilst she spoke, nor the 
 manner in which she shook hands with the old lady, and 
 hurried out of the room. 
 
 Breathless Avith confusion, she could scarcely stand when 
 she arrived in her own chamber ; but aware that no time 
 ought to be lost, she tied on a muslin cloak, covered her 
 head with a large summer-bonnet ; and put a long shawl 
 with a veil into her pocket. She hesitated a moment at 
 her chamber-door ; her eyes filled with tears drawn from 
 her heart by that keen spirit of truth which had ever been 
 the guardian of her conduct. Looking up to Heaven, she 
 sunk on her knees, and exclaimed with impetuosity, " Fa- 
 ther of Mercy ! thou only knowest my heart ! Direct me, I 
 beseech thee ! Let me not commit any thing unworthy of 
 myself, or of the unhappy Constantine — for whom I would 
 sacrifice my hfe j but not my duty to thee !"
 
 318 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 Re-assm-ed by the confidence which this simple act of 
 devotion inspired^ she took her parasol and descended the 
 stairs. The porter was alone in the haU. She enquired 
 for her servant. 
 
 " He is not returned^ madam." 
 
 Having foreseen the necessity of getting rid of all attend- 
 ants^ she had purposely sent her footman on an errand as 
 far as Cheapside. 
 
 " It is of no consequence," returned she to the porter,- 
 who was just going to propose one of Lady Dundas's men ; 
 " I cannot meet with any thing disagreeable at this time of 
 day, so I shall walk alone." 
 
 The man opened the door ; and with a bounding heart, 
 Mary hastened down the street, across the square, and at 
 the bottom of Orchard-street, stepped into a hackney-coach, 
 which she ordered to drive to Slaughter's coflPee-house, St. 
 Martin's Lane. 
 
 She drew up the glasses ; then taking the shawl and veil, 
 with ti'embling hands covered her graceful figure. Various 
 thoughts agitated her anxious mind whilst the carriage rolled 
 along ; and when it -drew up at the coffee-house, she in- 
 voluntarily retreated into the corner. The coach-door was 
 opened. 
 
 " Will you alight, ma'am ? " 
 
 " No ; call the waiter." 
 
 A waiter appeared ; and Miss Beaufort in a tolerably 
 collected voice enquired if Mr. Constantine lived there ? 
 
 " No, ma'am." 
 
 A cold dew stood on her forehead ; but taking courage 
 from a latent and last hope, she added, " I know he has had 
 letters directed to this place." 
 
 " O ! I beg your pardon, ma'am ! " returned the man, 
 recollecting himself ; " I remember a person of that name 
 has received letters from hence, but they were always fetched 
 away by a little girl." 
 
 " And do you not know where he lives ? " 
 
 " No, ma'am," answered he ; " yet some one else may : 
 I will enquire." 
 
 Miss Beaufort bowed her head in token of acknowledg-
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 319 
 
 ment, and sat shivering with suspense until he returned 
 followed by anotlier man. 
 
 '^ This person, ma'am," resumed he, " says he can tell 
 you." 
 
 " Thank you, thank you ! " cried Mary ; then, blushing 
 at her eagerness, she stopped, and drew back into the car- 
 riage. 
 
 " I cannot for certain," said the man, " but I know the 
 girl very well by sight, who comes for the letters ; and I 
 have often seen her standing at the door of a chaniUer's 
 shop a good way down the lane. I think it is No. 5. or 6". 
 I sent a woman there, wdio came after the same gentleman 
 about a fortnight ago. I dare say he lives there." 
 
 jMiss Beaufort's expectations sunk again, when she found 
 that she had nothing but a dure say to depend on ; and 
 giving half a crown to each of her informers, she desired 
 the coachman to drive as they would direct him. 
 
 "While the carriage drove down the lane, with a heart full 
 of fears she looked from side to side, almost believing she 
 should know by intuition the house which had contained 
 Constantino. \Fhen the man checked his horses, and her 
 eyes fell on the little mean dwelUng of Mrs. Robson, she 
 smothered a deep sigh. 
 
 " Can this be the house in which Constantine has Uved ? 
 How comfortless ! — And should it not," thought she, as 
 the man got off his box to enquire, " whither shall I go for 
 information ? " 
 
 The appearance of ]\Irs. Robson, and her immediate 
 affirmative to the question, " Are these ]Mr. Constantine's 
 lodgings?" at once dispelled this last anxiety. Encou- 
 raged by the motherly expression of the good woman's 
 manner, ]\Iary begged leave to alight. Mrs. Robson readily 
 offered her arm ; and with many apologies for the disor- 
 dered state of the house, led her up stairs to the room which 
 had been the Count's home. 
 
 ]\Iary trembled violently ; but seeing that every thing 
 depended on self-command, vdth apparent tranquillity she 
 received the chair that was presented to her, and turning 
 her eyes from the books and drawings Avhicli told her so 
 truly in whose apartment she was, she desired Mrs. Robson^
 
 320 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 who continued standing, to be seated. The good woman 
 obeyed ; and, after some trepidation, Mary asked where 
 Mr. Constantine was ? Mrs. Robson coloured, and looking 
 at her questioner for some time, as if doubting what to say, 
 burst into tears. 
 
 Miss Beaufort's ready eyes were much inclined to flow 
 in concert : but, subduing the strong emotions which shook 
 her, she added, " I do not come hither out of impertinent 
 curiosity. I have heard of the misfortunes of Mr. Con- 
 stantine. I am well known to his friends." 
 
 " Dear lady ! " cried the good woman, grasping at any 
 prospect of succour to her benefactor : " if he has friends, 
 whoever they are, tell them he is the noblest, most humane 
 gentleman in the world. Tell them, he has saved me and 
 mine from the deepest want ; and now he is sent to prison, 
 because he cannot pay the cruel doctor who attended the 
 poor dead General." 
 
 " What, is his friend dead } " ejaculated Mary, unable to 
 restrain the tears which now streamed over her face. 
 
 " Yes," replied Mrs. Robson ; " poor old gentleman ! he 
 is dead, sure enough ; and. Heaven knows, many have been 
 the dreary hours the dear young man has watched by his 
 piUow ! He died in that room." 
 
 Miss Beaufort's swimming eyes would not allow her to 
 discern objects through the open door of that apartment, 
 within which the heart of Thaddeus had undergone such 
 variety of misery. Forming an irresistible wish to know 
 whether the deceased were any relation of Constantine, she 
 paused a moment to compose the agitation which might be- 
 tray her, and then asked. 
 
 " I thought, ma'am," rephed Mrs. Robson, " you said 
 you knew his friends.''" 
 
 " Only his English ones," returned Mary, a little con- 
 fused at the suspicion this answer implied; " I imagined 
 that this old gentleman might have been his father, or an 
 uncle, or " 
 
 " O no," interrupted Mrs. Robson, sorrowfully ; " he has 
 neither father, mother, nor uncle in the wide world. He 
 once told me they were all dead, and that he saw them die. 
 Alas ! sweet soul ! What a power of griefs he must have
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 321 
 
 seen in his young life ! But Heaven will favour him at last j 
 for though he is in misfortune himself, he has been a bless- 
 ing to the widow and the orphan ! " 
 
 " Do you know the amount of his debts?" asked Miss 
 Beaufort. 
 
 " Only thirty pounds^" returned Mrs. Robson ; " and 
 for that they took him out of this room a week ago, and 
 hurried him away without letting nie know a word of the 
 matter. I believe to this hour I should not have known 
 where he was, if that brute, Mr. Jackson, had not come to 
 demand all that Mr. Constantino left in my care. But I 
 would not let him have it. I told the man, if my lodger 
 had filled my house with bags of gold, he should not touch 
 a shilling ; and then the ill-natured wretch abused me, and 
 told me Mr. Constantino was in Newgate." 
 
 " In Newgate ! " 
 
 " Yes, madam. I immediately ran there, and found 
 him more able to comfort me^ than I Avas able to speak to 
 him." 
 
 " Then be at rest, my good woman," returned Miss Beau- 
 fort, rising from her chair ; " when you next hear of Mr. 
 Constantine, he shall be at liberty. He has friends who 
 will not sleep till he is out of prison." 
 
 " May Heaven bless you and them, dear lady ! " cried 
 ^Irs. Robson, weejjing with joy ; for " they will release the 
 most generous heart alive." 
 
 Mary cast a wishful look on the drawings which stood 
 on a bureau ; then withdrawing her eyes with a deep 
 sigh, she descended the stairs. At the street-door she took 
 Mrs. Robson's hand, and not relinquishing it until she was 
 seated in the coach, pressed it warmly, and leaving within 
 it a purse of twenty guineas, ordered the man to return 
 whence he came. 
 
 Now that the temerity of going herself to learn the par- 
 ticulars of Mr. Constantino's fate had been achieved, deter- 
 mined as she was not to close her eyes whilst the man whom 
 she valued above her life remained a prisoner and in sor- 
 row, she thought it best to consult with Mrs. Dorothy 
 respecting the speediest means of compassing his emanci- 
 pation. 
 
 Y
 
 322 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 In Oxford Road she desired the man to proceed to 
 Harley Street. She ahghted at Lady Dundas's door^ paid 
 the coachman his fare, and stepped into the hall, before 
 she perceived that a travelling carriage belonging to her 
 guardian had driven away to afford room for her humble 
 equipage. 
 
 " Is Sir Robert Somerset come to town .'' " she hastily 
 enquired of the porter. 
 
 " No, madam ; but Mr. Somerset is just arrived." 
 
 The next minute JMiss Beaufort was in the drawing-room, 
 and clasped within the arms of her cousin. 
 
 " Dear Mary ! " — " Dear Pembroke ! " were the first words 
 which passed between these two affectionate friends. 
 
 Mrs. Dorothy, who doted on her nephew, taking his hand 
 as he seated himself between her and his cousin, said in a 
 congratulatory voice, " Mary, our dear boy has come to 
 town purposely to take us down." 
 
 " Yes, indeed," rejoined he ; " my father is moped to 
 death for want of you both. You know I am a sad run- 
 about. Lord Arun and Mr. Loftus have been gone these 
 ten days to his Lordship's aunt's in Bedfordshire ; and Sir 
 Robert is so completely weary of solitude, that he has com- 
 manded me," bowing to the other ladies, " to run off with 
 all the fair inhabitants of this house, sooner than leave you 
 behind." 
 
 " I shall be happy at another opportunity to visit Somerset 
 Castle," returned Lady Duiulas ; " but I am constrained to 
 spend this summer in Dumbartonshire. I have not yet seen 
 the estate my poor dear Sir Hector bought of the Duke of 
 Dumfries ! " 
 
 Pembroke offered no attempt to shake this resolution. In 
 the two or three morning calls he had made with Sir Robert 
 Somerset on the rich widow, he saw sufficient to make him 
 regard her arrogant vulgarity with disgust; and for her 
 daughters, they were of too common a stamp to occupy his 
 mind any longer than with a magic-lantern impression of a 
 tall woman with bold eyes, and the prettiest blue-eyed fairy 
 he ever bclield. 
 
 After half an hour's conversation with this family-group. 
 Miss Beaufort sunk into abstraction. During the first month
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. OZO 
 
 of Mary's acquaintance with Thaddeus, she did not neglect 
 to mention in her correspondence with Pembroke, having 
 met with a very interesting and accomplished emigrant, in 
 the quahty of a tutor at Lady Dundas's. But her cousin, 
 in his rephes, beginning to banter her on pity being allied 
 to love, she gradually dropped all mention of Constantino's 
 name ; as she too truly found by what insensible degrees the 
 union had taken place within her own breast. She remem- 
 bered these particulars, whilst a new method of accomplish- 
 ing her present project suggested itself; and determining 
 (however extraordinary her conduct might seem) to rest on 
 the rectitude of her motives, as a man must be the properest 
 person to transact such a business with propriety, she re- 
 solved to engage Pembroke for her agent, without troubling 
 j\Irs. Dorothy about the affair. 
 
 So deeply was she absorbed in these reflections, that So- 
 merset, observing her vacant eye fixed on the opposite wall, 
 took her hand with an arch smile and exclaimed — 
 
 " Mary ! AVhat is the matter ? I hope. Lady Dundas, 
 you have not suffered any one to run away with her heart ? 
 You know I am her cousin, and it is my unalienable right." 
 
 Lady Dundas replied, that young ladies best knew their 
 own secrets. 
 
 " That may be, madam,"' rejoined he ; '' but I won't 
 allow Miss Beaufort to know any thing that she does not 
 transfer to me. Is not that true, Mary ? 
 
 " Yes," whispered she, colouring ; " and the sooner you 
 afford me an opportunity to interest you in one, the more I 
 shall be obliged to you." 
 
 Pembroke pressed her hand in token of assent ; and a 
 desultory conversation continuing for another half houi-, 
 IMiss Beaufort, who dreaded the wasting one minute in a 
 day so momentous to her peace, sat uneasily until her aunt 
 proposed retiring to dress for dinner, and requested Pem- 
 broke to assist her up stairs. 
 
 When he returneil to the drawing-room, to his extreme 
 
 satisfaction he found all the party were gone, excepting 
 
 Miss Beaufort ; who was standing by one of the windows 
 
 lost in thought. lie approached her, and taking her hand — 
 
 Y 2
 
 324> THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " ComC; my dear cousin," said he, " how can I oblige 
 you ? " 
 
 Mary struggled with her confusion. Had she loved 
 Thaddeus less, she found she could with greater ease have 
 related the interest which she took in his fate. She tried 
 to speak distinctly, and she accomplished it ; although her 
 burning cheek and downcast look told to the fixed eye of 
 Pembroke what she vainly attempted to conceal. 
 
 " You can, indeed, oblige me ! You must remember a 
 Mr. Constantine ! I once mentioned him to you in my 
 letters." 
 
 " I do, Mary. You thought him amiable I" 
 
 " He was the intimate friend of Lady Tinemouth," re- 
 turned she, striving to look up ; but the piercing expression 
 she met from the eyes of Somerset, beating hers down again, 
 covered her face and neck with deeper blushes : she panted 
 for breath. 
 
 " Rely on me," said Pembroke, pitying her embarrass- 
 ment, whilst he dreaded that her gentle heart had indeed 
 become the victim of some accomplished and insidious 
 foreigner — " Rely on me, my beloved cousin : consider me 
 as a brother. If you have entangled yourself " 
 
 Miss Beaufort guessed what he would say; and interrupt- 
 ing him, added with a more assured air, " No, Pembroke, 
 I have no entanglements. I am going to ask your friendly 
 assistance in behalf of a brave and unfortunate Polander." 
 Pembroke reddened, and she went on. " Mr. Constantine 
 is a gentleman. Lady Tinemouth tells me he has been a 
 soldier, and that he lost all his possessions in the ruin of his 
 country. Her Ladyship introduced him here : I have seen 
 him often, and I know him to be worthy the esteem of every 
 honourable heart. He is now in prison, in Newgate, for a 
 debt of thirty pounds, and I ask you to go and release him. 
 That is my request, my secret ; and I confide in your dis- 
 cretion, that you will keep it, even from him." 
 
 " Dear, generous, lovely Mary !" cried Pembroke, kissing 
 her hand, " it is thus you always act ! Possessed of all 
 the softness of thy sex, dearest girl," added he, still more 
 affectionately, " nature has not alloyed it with one particle 
 of weakness ! "
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. o^O 
 
 Miss Beaufort smiled and sighed : — If to love tenderly, 
 to be devoted life and soul to one being, whom she consi- 
 dered as the most perfect work of creation, be weakness, — 
 jMary was the weakest of the weak ; and with a languid 
 despondence at her heart, she was opening her lips to give 
 some directions to her cousin, when the attentions of both 
 were arrested by a shrill noise of speakers talking above 
 stairs. Before the cousins had time to make an observ- 
 ation, the disputants descended towards the drawing-room, 
 and bursting open the door with a violent clamour, pre- 
 sented the enraged figure of Lady Dundas followed by 
 Diana ; who, with a no less swollen countenance, was 
 scolding vociferously, and dragging forward the weeping 
 Euphemia. 
 
 " Gracious Heaven ! " exclaimed Somerset, amazed at so 
 extraordinary a scene, " what has hajijiened ? " 
 
 Lady Dundas lifted up her clenched hand in a passion. 
 '^A jade! a hussy!" cried she, incapable to articulate 
 more. 
 
 Miss Dundas, still grasping the hands of her struggling 
 sister, broke out next, and turning furiously towards Mary, 
 exclaimed, " You see, madam, what disgrace your ridicu- 
 lous conduct to that vagabond foreigner has brought on our 
 family ! This bad girl has followed your example, and 
 done worse ; she has fallen in love with him ! " 
 
 Shocked, and trembling at so rude an accusation, iNIiss 
 Beaufort was unable to speak. Lost in wonder, and in- 
 censed at his cousin's goodness having been the dupe of im- 
 position, Pembroke stood silent, whilst Lady Dundas took 
 up the subject. 
 
 " Ay," cried she, shaking her daughter by the shoulder, 
 " you little minx ! if your sister had not picked up these 
 abominable verses you chose to write on the absence of this 
 beggarly fellow, I suppose you would have finished the bu- 
 siness by running off with him ? But you shall go down 
 to Scotland, and be locked up for months. I won't have 
 Sir Hector Dundas's family disgraced by a daughter of 
 mine." 
 
 " For pity's sake, Lady Dundas," said Pembroke, step- 
 ping between her vulgar Ladyship and the trembling Eu- 
 V 3
 
 S26 TIIADDEIS OF WARSAW. 
 
 phemia, " do compose yovirself. I dare say your daughter 
 is pardonable. In these cases, the fault in general lies with 
 our sex. We are the seducers." 
 
 Mary was obliged to re-seat herself; and with pale at- 
 tention, she listened to the reply of the frightened Euphe- 
 mia ; who half assured that her whim of creating a mutual 
 passion in the breast of Thaddeus was no longer tenable 
 without either shame or remorse, exclaimed, " Indeed, Mr. 
 Somerset, you are right ; I never should have thought of 
 Mr. Constantino, if he had not teased me every time he 
 came with his violent love." 
 
 INIiss Beaufort rose hastily from her chair. Though Eu- 
 phemia coloured at the suddenness of this motion, and the 
 immediate flash she met from her eye, she went on ; " I 
 know. Miss Beaufort will deny it, because she thinks he is 
 in love with her ; but indeed, indeed, he has sworn a thou- 
 sand times on his knees, that he was a Russian nobleman 
 in disguise, and adored me above every one else in the 
 world." 
 
 " Scoundrel !" cried Pembroke, inflamed with indigna- 
 tion at his double conduct. Afraid to read in the express- 
 ive countenance of INIary, her shame and horror at this 
 discovery, he turned his eyes on her with trepidation ; when, 
 to his surprise, he beheld her standing perfectly unmoved, 
 by the side of the sofa from which she had arisen. She 
 advanced with a calm step towards Euphemia, and taking 
 hold of the hand which concealed her face whilst uttering 
 this last falsehood, she drew it away ; and regarding her 
 with a serene but penetrating look, " Euphemia !" said she, 
 " you well know that you are slandering an innocent and 
 unfortunate man. You know, that never in his life did he 
 give you the slightest reason to suppose he was attached to 
 you ! and as for myself, I can also clear him of making 
 professions to me. — Upon the honour of my word, I de- 
 clare," added she, addressing herself to the whole group, 
 " that he never breathed a sentence to me, beyond mere 
 respect. By this last deviation of Euphemia from truth, 
 you may form an estimate how far the rest she has alleged 
 deserves credit." 
 
 The young lady burst into a vehement passion of tears :
 
 THADDEVS OF WARSAW. 327 
 
 '' I will not be browbeat and insulted. Miss Beaufort!" 
 cried sbe, taking refuge in noise, since right bad deserted 
 her. " You know you would fight his battles through thick 
 and thin! else you would not have fallen into fits yesterday, 
 when I told you he was sent to gaol." 
 
 This last assault struck INIary motionless ; and Lady 
 Dundas lifting up her hands, exclaimed, " Good Lord, keep 
 me from the forward misses of these times ! As for you. 
 Miss Euphemia," added she, seizing her daughter by the 
 arm, " you shall leave town to-morrow morning. I will 
 have no more tutoring and falling in love in my house ; and 
 for you, Miss Beaufort," turning to ]\Iary, who having re- 
 covered herself stood at a little distance, " I shall take care 
 to warn Mrs. Dorothy Somerset to keep an eye over your 
 conduct." 
 
 " jNLadam," replied she, indignantly, " I shall never do 
 any thing which can dishonour either my family or myself; 
 and of that Mrs. Dorothy Somerset is too well assured to 
 doubt for an instant, even should calumny be as busy with 
 me as it has been injurious to Mr. Constantino." 
 
 ^liss Beaufort walked towards the door. ^Vhen she 
 passed ^Ir. Somerset, who stood bewildered and frowning 
 beside ]\Iiss Dundas, she said in a collected and decisive 
 voice, " Pembroke, I shall leave the room ; but remember, 
 I do not release you from your engagement." 
 
 Staggered by the open firmness of her manner, he looked 
 after her as she vrithdrew, and was almost inclined to be- 
 lieve that she possessed the right side of the argument. 
 IVIalice did not allow him to think so long. The moment 
 the door closed on her, both the sisters fell on him pell-mell; 
 and the prejudiced illiberality of the one, supported by the 
 ready falsehoods of the other, soon dislodged all favourable 
 impressions from the mind of Somerset, and filled him anew 
 with displeasure. 
 
 In the midst of Diana's third harangue. Lady Dundas 
 having ordered Euphemia to be taken to her chamber, Mr. 
 Somerset was left alone more incensed than ever against the 
 object of their invectives ; whom he now considered in the 
 light of an adventurer, concealing his poverty, and perhaps 
 his crimes, beneath a garb of lies. That such a character, 
 Y 4
 
 828 THADDEVS OF WARSAW. 
 
 by means of a fine person, and few meretricious talents, 
 could work himself into the confidence of Mary Beaufort, 
 pierced her cousin to the soul ; and as he mounted the stairs 
 with an intent to seek her in her dressing-room, he almost 
 resolved to refuse obeying her commands. 
 
 AFhen he opened the room door, he found Miss Beaufort 
 with his aunt. The instant he appeared, the ever-benevo- 
 lent face of Mrs. Dorothy contracted into a frown. 
 
 " Nephew ! " cried she, " I shall not take it well of 
 you, if you give stronger credence to the passionate and 
 vulgar assertions of Lady Dundas and her daughters, 
 than you choose to bestow on the tried veracity of your cou- 
 sin Mary. 
 
 Pembroke was conscious that if his countenance had been 
 a faithful transcript of his mind, Miss Beaufort did not 
 err in supposing he believed the foreigner to be a villain. 
 Knowing that it would be impossible for him to relinquish 
 his reason into what he now denominated the partial hands 
 of his aunt and cousin, he persisted in his opinion to both 
 the ladies, that their unsuspicious natures had been rendered 
 subservient to knavery and artifice. 
 
 " I would not, my dear madam," said he, addressing 
 Mrs. Dorothy, " think so meanly of your sex, as to imagine that 
 such atrocity can exist in the female heart, as could give 
 birth to cruel and unprovoked calumnies against an inno- 
 cent man. I cannot suspect the Misses Dundas of such need- 
 less guilt ; particularly poor Euphemia, whom I pity. Lady 
 Dundas forced me to read her verses ; and they were too 
 full of love and regret for this adventurer, to come from the 
 same breast which could wantonly blacken his character. 
 Such wicked inconsistencies in so young a woman are not 
 half so probable, as that you, my dear aunt and cousin, 
 have been deceived." 
 
 " Nephew," returned the old lady, " you are very per- 
 emptory. Methinks a little more lenity of ojiinion would 
 better become your youth ! I knew nothing of this unhappy 
 man's present distress, until Miss Beaufort mentioned it to 
 me ; but before she breathed a word in his favour I had 
 conceived a very high respect for his merits. From the 
 first hour in which I saw him, I gathered by his deport-
 
 TIIADDEUS OP WARSAW. 329 
 
 inent and conversation, that they were far above his for- 
 tunes. I thought so; I still think so; and, notwithstanding all 
 which the Dundas's may choose to fabricate, I am deter- 
 mined to believe the assertions of an honest countenance." 
 
 Pembroke smiled, whilst he forced his aunt's reluctant 
 hand into his, and said, " I see, my dear madam, you are 
 bigotted to the idol of your own fancy ! I do not in the 
 least doubt this Mr. Constantine's enchantments ; but you 
 must pardon me, if I keep my senses at liberty. I shall 
 think of him, as I could almost swear he deserves, although 
 I am aware that I hazard your affection by my firmness." 
 He then turned to ^Nlary, who, with a swelling and dis- 
 tressed heart, was standing by the chimney ; " Forgive me, 
 my dearest cousin," continued he, addressing her in a soft- 
 ened voice, " that I am forced to a^^pear harsh. It is the 
 first time I ever dissented from you ; it is the first time I 
 ever thought you prejudiced !" 
 
 jMiss Beaufort drew the back of her hand over her glis- 
 tening eyes. All the tender affections of Pembroke's bosom 
 smote him at once ; and, throwing his arms round his 
 cousin's waist, he strained her to his breast, and added^ 
 " Ah ! why, dear girl, must I love you better for thus giving 
 me pain ? Every way my darling jVIary is more estim- 
 able. Even now, whilst I oppose you, I am sure, though 
 your goodness is abused, it was cheated into error by the 
 affectation of honourable calamities !" 
 
 Miss Beaufort thought, " that if the prudence of reserve 
 and decorum dictates silence in some circumstances, in others 
 a prudence of a higher order would justify her in declaring 
 her sentiments." Accordingly she withdrew from the 
 clasping arms of ]\Ir. Somerset ; and whilst her beautiful 
 figure seemed to dilate into more than its usual dignity, she 
 mildly replied — 
 
 " Tliink what you please, Pembroke ; I shall not con- 
 tend with you : j\Ir. Constantine is of a nature not to be 
 hidden by obscurity ; his character will defend itself : and 
 all that I have to add is this, I do not release you from your 
 promise. Could a woman transact the affair with propriety, 
 I would not keep you to so disagreeable an oflice; but 1 have 
 passed my word to myself, that I will neither 'slumber nor
 
 330 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 sleep' till he is out of prison." She put a pocket-book into 
 Pembroke's hand^ and added, " Take that, my dear cousin ; 
 and without suffering a syllable to transpire by which he 
 may suspect who served him, accomplish what I have 
 desired." 
 
 " I will obey you, ]\Iary," returned he ; " but I am 
 sorry that such rare enthusiasm was not awakened by a 
 wortliier object. When you see me again, I hope I shall 
 be enabled to say, that your ill-placed generosity is sa- 
 tisfied." 
 
 " Fie, nephew, fie !" cried Mrs. Dorothy ; " I could not 
 have supposed you capable of conferring a favour so un- 
 graciously." 
 
 Pained at what he called the obstinate infatuation of j\Iiss 
 Beaufort, and if possible moi-e chagrined by what he con- 
 sidered the blind and absurd encouragement of his aunt, 
 Mr. Somerset lost the whole of her last reprimand in his 
 hurry to quit the room. 
 
 Disturbed, displeased, and anxious, he stepped into a 
 hackney-coach ; and ordering it to drive to Newgate, deter- 
 mined to go through the business Avithout exposing himself 
 to an interview with a man whom he condemned as an art- 
 ful and unprincipled villain. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 The first week of the Count's confinement was rendered in 
 some degree tolerable, by the daily visits of INIrs. Robson ; 
 who, having brought his drawing materials, enabled him, 
 through the means of the printseller, to purchase some civi- 
 lity from the brutal and hardened people wlio were his gaol- 
 ers. After the good woman liad jierformed her diurnal 
 kindness, Thaddeus used to turn to the sad circumference 
 of his miserable apartment ; and would have been glad to 
 have found there even the dumb companionship of the poor 
 little spider, which had beguiled the attention of many a 
 brother in captivity. "When his pencil had accomplished
 
 TIIAnnEUS OF WARSAW. 331 
 
 its task, it wearied him ; when he took up a book, having 
 read it before, it failed to engage him. He possessed 
 nothing to beguile the tedious day, and more tedious 
 night. His spirit was in solitude — in the most dismal 
 solitude ; banished and shut out from all that could render 
 life desirable. 
 
 The elasticity and enterprise of soul inherent in youth, 
 renders no calamity so difficult to be borne as that which 
 fetters its best years and most active virtues within the walls 
 of a jirison. Thaddeus felt this benumbing conviction in 
 every pulse of his ardent and energetic heart. He retraced 
 all that he had been. He looked on what he was. Though 
 he had reaped glory when a boy, his " noon of mnnhood," his 
 evening sun, was to waste its light, and set in captivity. 
 
 At short and distant intervals, such melancholy reveries 
 gave place to the pitying image of JMary Beaufort. It 
 sometimes visited him in the day, it always was his com- 
 panion during the night. He courted her lovely idea, as a 
 spell that for a Avhile stole him from painful reflections. 
 "\\''ith an entranced soul he recalled every lineament of her 
 beautiful face, every dissolving note of that voice which had 
 hurried him into the rashness of touching her hand. One 
 moment he pressed her gold chain closer to his heart, 
 almost believing what Lady Tinemouth had insinuated ; the 
 next, he would sigh over his credulity, and return with 
 despondent, though equally intense, love, to her bewitching 
 recollection. 
 
 The more he meditated on the purity of her manners ; 
 the elevated ])rinciples to which he could trace her actions ; 
 and, above all, the benevolent confidence with which she 
 had ever treated him, (a man contemned by one part of her 
 acquaintance, and merely received on trust by the remainder,) 
 the more he found reasons to admire her character and 
 adore herself. When he drew a comparison between Miss 
 Beaufort and women of the same quality whom he had 
 seen in England and in other countries, he contemplated 
 with delighted wonder that spotless mind ; which having 
 passed through the various dangers annexed to wealth and 
 fashion, still bore itself uncontaminated. She was beautiful, 
 and she did not regard it ; she was accomplished, but she
 
 Oo2 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 did not attempt a display : what she acquired from educa- 
 tion, the graces so incorporated with her native inteUigencej 
 that the perfection of lier character seemed to have been 
 stamped at once by the beneficent hand of Providence. 
 
 Never were her numberless attractions so fascinating to 
 Thaddeus, as when he witnessed the generous eagerness 
 Avith which, forgetful of her own almost unparalleled talents, 
 she pointed out merit, and dispensed applause to the deserv- 
 ing. Miss Beaufort's nature was gentle and benevolent ; 
 but it was likewise distinguishing and animated. ^V^hilst 
 the Count saw that the urbanity of her disposition made 
 her politeness universal, he perceived that neither rank, 
 riches, nor splendour, could extract from her bosom one 
 spark of that lambent flame which streamed from her heart, 
 hke fire to the sun, towards the united glory of genius and 
 virtue. 
 
 He dwelt on her lovely, unsophisticated character, Avith 
 an enthusiasm bordering on idolatry. He recollected that 
 she had been educated by the mother of Pembroke Somerset; 
 and turning from the double remembrance, with a sigh 
 fraught with all the bitterness and sweetness of love, he 
 acknowledged how much wisdom (which includes virtue) 
 gives spirit and immortality to beauty. " Yes," cried^ he, 
 " it is the fragrance of the flower, which lives after the 
 bloom is withered." 
 
 From the like seducing day-dreams, Thaddeus was one 
 evening awakened by the entrance of the gaoler into his 
 cell. The man presented a sealed paper, and told him he 
 brought it from a stranger ; who, having paid the debts for 
 which he was confined, immediately withdrew, desiring the 
 packet might be delivered to Mr. Constantine. 
 
 Scarcely crediting this information, Thaddeus hastily 
 opened the letter, hoping it might thi-ow some light on his 
 benefactor : a blank cover, inclosing notes to the amount of 
 fifty pounds, presented itself. Surprised at this, he ordered 
 the man to leave him, who, without ceremony, was staring 
 at the money over his shoulder ; and sitting down, he tried 
 to conjecture who could have acted so generously, and be so 
 careful to conceal the donor. 
 
 He had seen sufficient proofs of a heedless want of charity
 
 TIIADDECS OF WARSAW. 335 
 
 in Miss Euphemia Dundasj to lead him to suppose that 
 she could not be so munificent and solicitous of secrecy. 
 Besides, how could she have learnt liis situation ? He 
 thought it was impossible : and that impossibility compelled 
 an erratic hope of his present liberty's having si)rung from 
 the friendship of INIiss Beaufort, to pass by him with pain- 
 ful swiftness. 
 
 " Gracious Heaven!" cried he, starting from his chair, 
 " it is the indefatigable spirit of Lady Sara Roos, that I 
 recognise in this deed ! The generous, but unhappy interest 
 which she yet takes in my fate, has discovered my last mis- 
 fortune, and thus seeks to relieve me ! " 
 
 The moment he conceived this supposition, he believed 
 it ; and, taking up a pen, with a grateful, though disturbed, 
 soulj he addressed to her the following guarded note : — 
 
 " To the RUjht Honourable Lady Sara lioos. 
 
 " An unfortunate exile, who is already overpowered by 
 a sense of not having deserved the notice which Lady Sara 
 Roos has deigned to take of his misfortunes — Avas this 
 morning liberated from prison in a manner so generous and 
 delicate, that he can ascribe the act to no other than the 
 noble heart of her Ladyship. 
 
 " The object of this bounty, bending under the weight 
 of obligations which he cannot repay, begs permission to 
 re-enclose the bills which Lady Sara's agent transmitted to 
 him ; but as the deed which procures his freedonr cannot 
 be recalled, with the most grateful emotions, he accepts that 
 new instance of her Ladyship's goodness. 
 " JS'^fifgate." 
 
 Thaddeus despatched the letter by a porter; and was 
 preparing another to acquaint Mrs. Robson of his release, 
 when the good woman made her appearance. She hastened 
 to him with an animated countenance, and exclaimed before 
 he had time to speak, '' Dear sir ! I have seen a dear sweet 
 lady, who promised not to sleep till you are out of this 
 horrid place ! " 
 
 The suspicions of the Count, that his benefactress was 
 indeed Lady Sara Roos, were now confirmed : seating his
 
 334} THADDKUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 landlady in the only chair which furnished the apartment ; 
 to satisfy her humility, he took his station on the table, and 
 then said, '' The lady has already fulfilled her engagement ; 
 I am free ; and only wait for an answer to my acknow- 
 ledgments before I quit the prison." 
 
 At this assurance the delighted Mrs. Robson, crying and 
 laughing by turns, did not cease her ejaculations of joy, 
 until the porter returned with a reply from Lady Sara, 
 evidently blotted with tears. Thaddeus took out the re- 
 enclosed bills with a flushed cheek, and read as follows: — 
 
 " I cannot be mistaken in recognising the proud and 
 high soul'd Constantine, in the lines I hold in my hand. 
 Could any thing have imparted to me more comfort than 
 your generous belief that there is indeed some virtue left in 
 my wretched and repentant heart, it would have arisen 
 from the consciousness of having been the happy person 
 who has succoured you in your distress. But no : that 
 enjoyment was beyond my deserving. The bliss of being 
 the lightener of your sorrows was reserved by Heaven for 
 a less criminal creature. I did not even know that you 
 were in prison. Since our dreadful parting I have never 
 dared to enquire after you ; and much as it might console 
 me to serve one so truly valued, I will not insult your nice 
 honour by offering any further instance of my friendship, 
 than what will evince my soul's gratitude to your prayers, 
 and my acquiescence with the commands of duty. 
 
 " jNly husband is here, without perceiving the ravages 
 which misery and remorse have made in my unhappy heart. 
 Time perhaps may render me less unworthy of his tender- 
 ness ; at present I detest myself. 
 
 " I return the bills ; you may safely use them, for they 
 never were mine, " S. R." 
 
 The noble heart of Thaddeus bled over every line of this 
 letter. He saw that it bore a stamp of truth, which did 
 not leave him a moment in doubt that he owed his release 
 to some other hand. Whilst he folded it up, his suspicions 
 next lighted on Lady Tinemouth. He had received one 
 short letter from her since her departure, mentioning Maria's 
 staying in town to meet Mr. Montresor; Miss Beaufort s
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 335 
 
 detention on account of Mrs. Dorothy's accident ; and 
 closing with the intelligence of her own arrival at the 
 AVolds. lie was struck with the idea, tliat, as he had delayed 
 answering this letter in consequence of his late embarrass- 
 ment, she must have made enquiries after him ; that pro- 
 bably Miss P]gerton was the lady who had visited Mrs. 
 Robson; and finding the information true, had executed the 
 Countess's commission to obtain his release. 
 
 According to tliese suppositions, he questioned his land- 
 lady about the appearance of the lady whom she had seen. 
 Mrs. Ilobson replied, " She was rather tall, but so wrapped 
 up, I could neither see her face nor her figure ; though I 
 am certain, from the softness of her voice, she must be 
 both young and handsome. Sweet creature ! I am sure 
 she wept two or three times. Besides, she is the most cha- 
 ritable soul alive, next to you, sir ; for she gave me a purse 
 with twenty guineas ; and she told me^ she knew your 
 Honour's English friends." 
 
 This narration substantiating his hope of Lady Tine- 
 mouth's being his benefactress ; that the kind ]\faria was 
 her agent, and the gentleman who defrayed the debt, Mr. 
 Montresor ; he was easier under an obligation, which a 
 mysterious liberation would have doubled. He knew the 
 Countess's maternal love for him. To reject her present 
 benefaction would be to sacrifice gratitude to an excessive 
 and haughty delicacy. Convinced that nothiug can he great, 
 that it Is great to despise, he no longer hesitated to accept 
 Lady Tinemouth's bounty ; but smothered in his breast 
 the embers of a proud, repulsive ardour, which, having 
 burst forth in the first hour of his misfortunes, was ever 
 ready to consume any wish that might oppress him with 
 the weight of obligation. 
 
 Thaddeus quitted his cell. He ordered a coach to the 
 great gate of Newgate ; and with thankfulness to Heaven 
 for again being permitted to taste the wholesome breeze of 
 a free atmosphere, he handed his delighted landlady into the 
 vehicle. 
 
 So true it is, that advantages are only appreciated by 
 comparison ; when the Count re-entered his humble apart- 
 ment in St. j\Lartin's Lane, he considered it a palace of 
 luxury, opposed to the dungeon he had left.
 
 336 
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSA^V. 
 
 " Ah ! " cried Mrs. Robson, pointing to a chair^ " there 
 is the very seat in which that dear lady sat ! sweet 
 creature ! If I had known that I durst beheve all she pro- 
 mised, I would have fallen on my knees and kissed her 
 feet, for bringing back your dear self ! " 
 
 " I thank you, my good madam," returned Thaddeus, 
 with a smile, and a tear at such ardent demonstration of 
 affection ; " but where is little Nancy, that I may shake 
 hands with her ? " 
 
 The child welcomed the Count with those animated ex- 
 pressions of joy which are inseparable from a good and un- 
 experienced heart. Being exhausted by the events of the 
 day, he retired at an early hour to his pillow, Avhere he 
 found that repose he had sought in vain within the gloomy, 
 and (he supposed) eternal, walls of a prison. 
 
 In the morning he was awakened by the hght footsteps 
 of his pretty waiting-maid entering the front room. His 
 chamber-door being open, he asked her what was the hour ? 
 She replied, nine o'clock ; adding that she had brought a 
 letter, which one of the waiters from Slaughter's coffee- 
 house had just left, with information that he did so by the 
 orders of a footman in a rich livery. 
 
 Thaddeus desired it might be given to him. The child 
 obeyed, and quitted the room. He saw the superscription 
 was in j\Iiss Dundas's hand ; and opening it with pleasure, 
 because every thing interested him which came from the 
 house which contained Mary Beaufort, to his amazement 
 and consternation he read the following accusations : — 
 
 " To 3fr. Con Stan tine. 
 " Mr. Constantine, 
 '' By a miraculous circumstance this morning, your deep 
 and daring plan of villany has been discovered to Lady D — 
 and myself. The deluded victim, whom your arts and false- 
 hoods would have seduced to dishonour her family by connect- 
 ing herself with a vagabond, has at length seen through her 
 error, and now detests you as much as ever your insufferable 
 presumption coidd have hoped she would distinguish you 
 with regard. Thanks be to Heaven ! you are completely ex- 
 posed ! This young woman of fashion (whose name I wiU 
 not trust in the same page with yours) has made a full
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 337 
 
 confession of your villanous seductions ; of her own re- 
 prehensible weakness, in ever having deigned to Hsten to 
 so low a creature. She desires me to assure you, that she 
 hates you ; and commands you never again to attempt the 
 insolence of appearing in her sight. Indeed this is the 
 
 language of every soul in this house. Lady D , Mrs. 
 
 D S , Miss B , besides that of 
 
 " D D . 
 
 " Hurley Street." 
 
 Thaddeus read this ridiculous letter twice, before he 
 could perfectly comprehend its meaning. In a paroxysm 
 of indignation, at the vile subterfuge under which he did 
 not doubt that Euphemia had screened some accidental dis- 
 covery of her absurd passion, he hastily threw on his 
 clothes ; and determined, though in defiance of Miss Dun- 
 das's mandates, to fly to Ilarley Street, and clear himself 
 in the eyes of Miss Beaufort and her venerable aunt. 
 
 Having flown rather than walked, he arrived in sight of 
 Lady Dundas's house just as a coach full of her Ladyship's 
 maids and packages drove from the door. Hurrying up 
 the step, he asked the porter^ if Mrs. Dorothy Somerset 
 were at home. 
 
 " No, " replied the man ; " she and Miss Beaufort, with 
 Miss Dundas and Mr. Somerset, went out of town this 
 morning by eight o'clock ; and my Lady and Miss Euphe- 
 mia^ about an hour ago, set off for Scotland, where they 
 mean to stay all the summer. 
 
 At this information, which seemed to be the sealing of 
 his condemnation with Mary, the heart of Thaddeus was 
 pierced to the core. Lfnacquainted, until this moment, with 
 the torments attending the calumniated, he could scarcely 
 subdue the tempest in his breast when forced to receive the, 
 conviction, that the woman whom he loved above all the 
 world, now regarded him as not merely a villain, but the 
 meanest of villians. 
 
 He returned home indignant and agitated. The know- 
 ledge that Pembroke Somerset had probably listened to the 
 falsehood of Euphemia, without suggesting one word in 
 defence of hira who once was liis friend, inflicted a pang 
 z
 
 338 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 more deadly than the rest. Shutting himself within his 
 apartment, tossed and tortured in soul, he traversed the 
 room. First one idea occurred, and then another, until he 
 resolved to seek redress from the advice of Lady Tine- 
 mouth. With this determination he descended the stairs ; 
 and telling Mrs. Robson he should leave London next 
 morning for Lincolnshire, begged her not to be uneasy on 
 his account, as he went on business, and would return in a 
 few days. 
 
 The good woman almost wept at this intelligence ; and 
 when she saw him depart, followed the wheels of the stage- 
 coach with sighs and blessings. His long journey passed 
 not more in resentful reveries, than in affectionate antici- 
 pations of the moment in which he should pour out his 
 gratitude to the maternal tenderness of Lady Tinemouth ; 
 and learn from her delicacy and experience, how to efface 
 from the minds of Mrs. Dorothy Somerset and her lovely 
 niece, sentiments of him, so dishonouring, torturing, and 
 false. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIIL 
 
 The porter at Lady Dundas's was strictly correct in his 
 account respecting the destination of the dispersed members 
 of her Ladyship's household. 
 
 Whilst Pembroke Somerset v.as sullenly executing his 
 forced act of benevolence at Newgate, Miss Uundas suddenly 
 took it into her ever-scheming head, to compare the merits of 
 Somerset's rich expectancy with the pennyless certainty of 
 Lascelles. She considered the substantial advantages which 
 the wife of a wealthy baronet would hold over the humble 
 cara sposa of a man owning no other rank than a reflected 
 lustre, shot from the coronet of an elder brother. Besides, 
 Pembroke was very handsome ; Lascelles, only tolerably so: 
 indeed some women had presumed to call him ugly ; but 
 they were odd mortals, who, not believing the mctewpsiichosis 
 doctrine of the tailor and his decorating adjuncts, could not 
 comprehend that although a mere human creature can have
 
 THADDEVS OF WARSAW. 339 
 
 no such property, a man of fashion may possess an elixir 
 vitce which makes age youth, deformity heauty, and even 
 transforms vice into virtue. 
 
 In spite of remembrance, which reminded Diana how 
 often slie had contended that all Mr. Lascelles's teeth were 
 his own ; that his nose was not a bit too long, being difac 
 simile of the feature which reared its sublime curve over 
 the capacious mouth of his noble brother Lord Castle 
 Conway ; notwithstanding all this, the Pythagorean pre- 
 tensions of fashion began to lose their ascendency ; and in 
 the recesses of her mind, when Miss Dundas compared the 
 light elegance of Pembroke's figure, Avith the heavy limbs 
 of her present lover ; Pembroke's dark and ever-animated 
 eyes, with the gooseberry orbs of Lascelles, she dropped the 
 parallel ; and resolving to captivate the heir of Somerset 
 Castle, admitted no remorse at jilting the brother of Castle 
 Conway. 
 
 To this end, before Pembroke's return from Newgate, 
 Diana had told her mother of her intention to accompany 
 Mrs. Dorothy to the Baronet's ; where she would remain 
 until her Ladyship should think Euphemia might be trusted 
 to rejoin her in town. Neither Mrs. Dorothy nor Miss 
 Beaufort liked this arrangement ; and next morning, with 
 an acliing heart, the latter prepared to take her seat in the 
 travelling equipage which was to convey them all into 
 Leicestershire. 
 
 At supper, Pembroke sullenly informed his cousin of the 
 success of her commands; — that Mr. Constantine was free. 
 This assurance, though imparted with so ungracious an air, 
 laid her head with less distraction on her pillow : and as she 
 stepped into Sir Robert's carriage next day, enabled her with 
 more ease to deck her lips with smiles. She felt that the 
 penetrating eyes of Mr. Somerset were never withdrawn 
 from her face ; offended Avith his perverseness, and their 
 scrutiny, she tried to baffle their inspection. She attemjited 
 gaiety, Avhen she gladly Avould have wept. But when the 
 coach mounted the top of Ilighgate Hill, and discovered a 
 last view of that city which contained the being Avhose hap- 
 piness was the sole object of her thoughts and prayers, she 
 leaned out of the Avindow to hide a tear she could not re- 
 z 2
 
 340 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 press ; feeling that another and another would start, she 
 complained of the dust; and pulling her veil over her eyes, 
 drew back into the corner of the carriage. The trembling 
 of her voice and hands during the performance of this little 
 artifice, too well explained to Pembroke what was passing 
 in her mind. At once dispelling the gloom which shrouded 
 his own countenance, he turned towards her with compas- 
 sionate tenderness in his words and looks ; he called her 
 attention by degrees to the happy domestic scene she was to 
 meet at the castle ; and thus gradually softening her dis- 
 pleasure into the easy conversation of reciprocal affection, 
 he rendered the remainder of their long journey less irksome. 
 
 When at the end of the second day Miss Beaufort fovmd 
 herself in the old avenue leading to the base of the hill 
 which sustains the revered walls of Somerset Castle, a 
 mingled emotion took possession of her breast : and when 
 the carriage arrived at the foot of the highest terrace she 
 sprung impatiently out of it; and hastening up the stone 
 stairs into the front hall, met her uncle at the door of the 
 breakfast-parlour, where he held out his arms to receive her. 
 
 " My Mary ! My darling ! " cried he, embracing her now 
 wet cheek, and straining her throbbing bosom to his own. 
 " Why, my dear love," added he, almost carrying her into 
 the room, " I am afraid this visit to town has injured your 
 nerves ! Whence arises this agitation .'' " 
 
 She knew it had injured her peace ; and now that the 
 floodgates of her long-repelled tears were opened, it was 
 beyond her heart, or the soothings of her affectionate uncle, 
 to stay them. A moment afterwards her cousin entered the 
 room, followed by Mrs. Dorothy and j\Iiss Dundas. Miss 
 Beaufort hastily rose to conceal what she could not check ; 
 and kissing Sir Robert's hand, asked permission to retire, 
 under the pretence of regaining those spirits which had been 
 dissipated by the fatigues of her journey. 
 
 In her own chamber she did indeed struggle to recover 
 herself. She shuddered at the impetuosity of her emotions, 
 when once abandoned of their reins ; and resolved from this 
 hour to hold a stricter guard over the consequences of her 
 ill-fated passion. 
 
 She sat in the window of her apartment ; and looking
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 341 
 
 down the extensive vale of Somerset, watched the romantic 
 wanderings of the Witham winding its course through the 
 domains of the Castle, and nourishing the roots of those 
 immense oaks, which for more than a century have waved 
 their branches over its stream. She reflected on the revo- 
 lution which had taken i)lace in herself, since she walked 
 on its banks the evening tliat preceded her visit to London. 
 Then, she was as free as air, and gay as the lark ; each 
 object was bright and lovely in her eyes : hope seemed to 
 woo her from every green slope, every remote dingle : all 
 nature breathed of joy, because her own breast was the abode 
 of gladness. Now, all continued the same, but she was 
 changed. Surrounded by beauty, she acknowledged its pre- 
 sence ; the sweetness of the flowers bathed her senses in 
 fragrance; the setting sun gilding the heights, shed a yellow 
 glory over the distant hills; the birds were hailing the fallen 
 dew which spangled every leaf; she gazed around, and 
 sighed heavily when she said to herself, " Even in this 
 paradise I shall be wretched. Alas ! my heart is far away ! 
 ]\Iy soul lingers about one I may never more behold ! about 
 one, who may soon cease to remember that such a being as 
 Mary Beaufort is in existence. lie Avill leave England ! " 
 cried she, raising her hands and eyes to the glowing hea- 
 vens. " He will live, he will die, far, far, from me ! In 
 a distant land he will wed another, whilst I shall know no 
 wish that strays from him." 
 
 AV'hilst she indulged in these soliloquies, she forgot both 
 Sir Robert and her resolution, until he sent her maid to beg, 
 if she were better, she would come down and make tea for 
 him. At this summons she dried her eyes, and with as- 
 sumed serenity descended to the saloon, where the family 
 were assembled. The Baronet having greeted Miss Dun- 
 das with an hospitable welcome, seated himself between his 
 sister and his son ; and, whilst he received his favourite 
 beverage from the hands of his beloved niece, he found that 
 comfort once more re-entered his bosom. 
 
 Sir Robert Somerset was a man whose appearance alone 
 
 attracted respect. His person bore the stamp of dignity; 
 
 and his manners, which possessed the exquisite polish of 
 
 travel^ secured him universal esteem. Though little beyond 
 
 z 3
 
 342 • -HADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 fifty, the various perplexities which distressed his youth^ 
 had not only rendered his hair prematurely grey ; but by 
 clouding his once brilUant eyes with thoughtfulness, marked 
 his aspect with old age and melancholy. The Baronet's 
 entrance into gay life was celebrated for wit and vivacity ; 
 he was the animating spirit of every party: but an inexpli- 
 cable metamorphosis took place. Soon after his return from 
 abroad he married Miss Beaufort (a woman whom he loved 
 to madness), when, strange to say, excess of happiness 
 seemed to change his nature, and give his character a deep 
 tinge of sadness. After his wife's death, the alteration in 
 his mind produced still more extraordinary effects, and 
 showed itself more than once in all the terrors of approach- 
 ing insanity. 
 
 His latest attack of the kind assailed him during the last 
 winter, under the appearance of a swoon, while he sat at 
 breakfast reading the newspaper. He was carried to bed, 
 and awoke in a delirium which threatened either immediate 
 death, or the total extinction of his intellects. However, 
 neither of these dreads being confirmed, in the course of 
 several weeks, to the wonder of every body, he recovered 
 both his health and his sound mind. Notwithstanding this 
 happy event, the circumstances of his danger so deeply af- 
 fected his family, that he ceased not to be an object of the 
 most anxious attention. Indeed, solicitude did not termi- 
 nate with them : the munificence of his disposition having 
 spread itself through every county in which he owned a 
 rood of land, as many prayers ascended for the repose of 
 his spirit, as ever petitioned Heaven from the mouths of 
 " monkish headsmen," in favour of power or virtue. 
 
 Since the demise of Lady Somerset, this excellent man 
 drew all his comfort from the amiable qualities of his son 
 Pembroke. Sometimes in his livelier hours, which came 
 " like angel visits, few and far between," he amused himself 
 with the playfulness of the little Earl of Arun, the pompous 
 erudition of Mr. Loftus (who was become his Lordship's 
 tutor), and with giving occasional entertainments to the 
 gentry in his neighbourhood. 
 
 Of all the personages contained within this circle (whicli
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 34:3 
 
 the hospitality of Sir Robert extended to a circumference 
 of thirty miles), Lord Berrinj^ton was the most respected. 
 
 The numerous visitants that attended the Somerset hunt 
 were too gay to he admitted with intimacy. A son of one 
 of these itinerant families, (which, ever on the full chase of 
 pleasure, had fixed itself at AVood-hill Lodge, near the little 
 town of Grantham,) by calhng at the castle soon after the 
 arrival of the London party, caused a trifling change in its 
 social arrangement. 
 
 i When Richard Shafto was ushered into the saloon, he 
 nodded to Sir Robert, and, turning his back on the ladies, 
 told Pembroke he liad ridden to Somerset on purpose to 
 bring him to ^Vood-hill Lodge. 
 
 " Upon my soul,"' cried he, " if you don't come, I will 
 quit my mother. A\^ould you believe it, that on account 
 of Sir Ilallerand having gone out plenipotentiary to some 
 damned place on the Continent, she has taken into her head 
 to rusticate till his return ? Upon my soul, I am moped 
 to death ! There is not a creature but yourself within 
 twenty miles to whom I would speak ; not a man worth a 
 sixpence. I wish to Heaven my father had broken his neck 
 before he accepted that rascally embassy, which encumbers 
 me with the charge of an old woman !" 
 
 After this dutiful wish, which brought down a weighty 
 admonition from Mrs. Dorothy, the young gentleman pro- 
 mised to beg her parcion for his fihal irreverence, provided 
 she would persuade Pembroke to accompany him to the 
 Lodge. Mr. Somerset did not show much ^l^Crity in nls 
 consent • v.'j* *- j.jj ^^g farnily of such a noisy guest he rose 
 from his chair, and acquiescing in the sacrifice of a few 
 days to good nature, bade his father farewell, and gave 
 orders for a ride to Grantham. 
 
 As soon as the gentlemen left the saloon, ]\Iiss Dundas 
 ran up stairs, and, from her dressing-room window in the 
 west tower, pursued the steps of their horses as they can- 
 tered down the winding steep into the high road. An ab- 
 rupt angle of the hill hiding them from her view, she turned 
 round with a toss of the head, and flinging herself into a 
 chair, exclaimed, " Now I shall be bored to death by this 
 z 4
 
 S44 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 abominable stupid family ! I wisb tbe devil had taken Shafto 
 before he thought of coming hither !" 
 
 In consequence of the humour which engendered the 
 above no very flattering compliment to the society at the 
 Castle, Miss Dundas descended to the dining-room with 
 sulky looks and a chilling air. She ate what the Baronet 
 laid on her plate, with an indolent appetite ; cut her meat 
 carelessly, and dragged the vegetables over the table-cloth. 
 Mrs. Dorothy coloured at this indifference to the usual neat- 
 ness of her damask covers ; but Miss Dundas was so com- 
 pletely in the suUens, that, heedless of any other feelings 
 than her own, she continued to pull and knock about the 
 things just as her ill humour dictated. 
 
 The petulance of this lady's behaviour did not in the 
 least assimilate with the customary decorum of Sir Robert's 
 table ; and when the cloth was drawn, he could not refrain 
 from expressing his concern that Somerset Castle appeared 
 so little calculated to afford satisfaction to a daughter of 
 Lady Dundas. Miss Dundas attempted some awkward de- 
 claration, that she never was more amused, never happier. 
 
 But the small credit Sir Robert gave to her assertion, 
 was fully warranted the next morning, by the ready manner 
 in which she accepted a casual invitation to spend the en- 
 suing day and night at Lady Shafto's. Her Ladyship called 
 on iNIrs. Dorothy ; and intending to have a party in the 
 evening, invited the two young ladies to return with her to 
 Grantham, and be her guests for a week. Miss Beaufort, 
 "whose spirits were far from tranquillised, declined her ci- 
 vility ; but with a gleam of pleasure she heard it accepted 
 by Miss Dundas, who departed with her Ladyship for the 
 Lodge. 
 
 Whilst the enraptured Diana, all life and glee, bowled 
 along with Lady Shafto, anticipating the delight of once 
 more seating herself at the elbow of Pembroke Somerset, 
 Mary Beaufort, relieved from a load of ill-requited attentions, 
 walked out into the park, to enjoy in solitude the intoxicat- 
 ing sorrow of thinking on the unhappy and far distant Con- 
 stantino. Regardless of the way, her footsteps, though 
 robbed of elasticity by nightly watching and daily regret, 
 led her beyond the park to the ruined church of Wool-
 
 THADDEUS or WARSAW. .945 
 
 thorpe, its southern boundary. Her eyes were fixed on the 
 opposite horizon. It was the extremity of Leicestershire; 
 and far, far behind those hills, was that London, which con- 
 tained the object dearest to her soul. The wind seemed 
 scarcely to breathe as it floated towards her ; but it came 
 from that quarter; and, believing it laden with every sweet 
 which love can fancy, she threw back her veil to inhale its 
 balm ; then blaming herself for such baby weakness, she 
 turned, blushing, homewards, and wept at what she thought 
 her unreasonably tenacious passion. 
 
 The arrival of Miss Dundas at the Lodge was commu- 
 nicated to the two young men on their return from a traverse 
 on foot of half the county in quest of game. The news 
 drew an oatli from Shafto ; but rather pleased Somerset, 
 who augured some amusement from her attempts at wit and 
 judgment. Tired to death, and dinner being over when 
 they entered, with ravenous appetites they devoured their 
 uncomfortable meal in a remote room ; then, throwing 
 themselves along the sofas, they yawned and slept for nearly 
 two hours. 
 
 Pembroke waking first, suddenly jumped on the floor, 
 and shaking his disordered clothes, exclaimed, " Shafto ! 
 Get up. This is abominable ! Efaith, I cannot help think- 
 ing, if we spend one half of our days in pleasure, and the 
 other in lolling off its fatigues, we shall have passed through 
 life more to our shame than our profit ! " 
 
 " Then you may take the shame, and leave me the 
 profit," cried his companion, turning himself round : " so 
 good night to you." 
 
 Pembroke rang the bell. A servant entered. 
 
 " What o'clock is it ? " 
 
 " Nine, sir," 
 
 " Who are above ? " 
 
 " My lady, sir, and a large party of ladies." 
 
 i' There, now!" cried Shafto, yawning and kicking out 
 his legs. '' You surely won't go to be bored Avith such 
 damned maudlin company?" 
 
 " I choose to join your mother," replied Pembroke. 
 " Are there any gentlemen, Stephen } " 
 
 " One, sir, Doctor Denton."
 
 S46 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " Confound you ! " roared Shafto, " what do you stand 
 jabbering there for ? You won't let me sleep. Can't you 
 send away the fellow, and go look yourself?" 
 
 " I will, if you can persuade yourself to rise off that sofa, 
 and come with me." 
 
 " May the devil catch me if I do ! Get about your busi- 
 ness, and leave me to mine." 
 
 " You are incorrigible, Shafto," returned Pembroke, as 
 he closed the door. 
 
 He went up stairs to change his dress ; and before he 
 gained the second flight, he resolved not to spend an- 
 other whole day in the company of such an ignorant un- 
 mannerly cub. 
 
 On Mr. Somerset's entrance into Lady Shafto's drawing- 
 room, he saw many ladies ; but only one gentleman, who 
 was the before-mentioned Dr. Denton ; a poor shallow- 
 headed parasitical animal. Pembroke having seen enough 
 of him, to despise his pretensions both to science and sin- 
 cerity, returned his wide smirk and eager enquiries with a 
 ceremonious bow, and took his seat by the side of the now 
 delighted Miss Dundas. The vivid spirits of Diana, which 
 she now strove to render peculiarly sparkling, entertained 
 him. — WTien compared with the insipid sameness of her 
 Ladyship, or the brutal ribaldry of her son, the mirth of 
 Miss Dundas was wit, and her remarks wisdom. 
 
 " Dear Mr. Somerset ! " cried she, " how good you are to 
 break this sad solemnity. I vow, until you showed your 
 face, I thought the days of paganism were revived, and that 
 lacking men, we were assembled here to celebrate the mys- 
 teries of the Bona Dear 
 
 " Lacking men ! " replied he, smiling, " You have over- 
 looked the assiduous Doctor Denton ^ " 
 
 " O, no ; that is a cameleon in man's clothing. He 
 breathes air, he eats air, he speaks air ; and a most pesti- 
 lential breath it is. Only observe how he is pouring its 
 fumes into the ear of yonder sable statue." 
 
 Pembroke directed his eyes as Miss Dundas desired him : 
 they fell on Doctor Denton, who stood whispering and 
 bowing before a lady in black. The lady put up her lip, 
 the Doctor proceeded; she frowned, he would not be
 
 THADDEtJS OF WARSAW. 347 
 
 daunted ; the lady rose from her seat, and slightly bend- 
 ing her head, crossed the room. AVhilst Mr. Somerset was 
 contemplating her majestic figure, and fine though pale 
 features, JMiss Dundas touched his arm, and smiling satiri- 
 cally, repeated in an affected voice — 
 
 " Hail, pensive Nun ! devout anil holy .' 
 Hail, ilivincst Melancholy I " 
 
 " If she be melancholy," returned Pembroke, uncon- 
 sciously sighing, " I would for ever say, 
 
 " Hence, unholy Mirth, of Folly bom ! " 
 
 Miss Dundas reddened. She never liked this interesting 
 ■woman ; who was not only too handsome for competition, 
 but possessed an understanding that would not tolerate ig- 
 norance and presumption. Diana's ill-natured impertinence 
 having several times received deserved chastisement from 
 that quarter, she was vexed to the soul when Pembroke 
 closed his animated response with the question, " AVlio is 
 she ? " 
 
 Rather too bitterly for the design on his heart, Miss 
 Dundas iterated his words, and then answered, " Why, she 
 is crazed. She lives in a place called Harrowby Abbey, at 
 the top of that hill," continued she, pointing through the op- 
 posite window to a distant rising ground on which the 
 moon was shining brightly ; " and I am told frightens the 
 cottagers out of their wits by her midnight strolls." 
 
 Hardly knowing how to credit this wild account, Pem- 
 broke asked his informer if she were serious. 
 
 " Never more so. Her eyes are uncommonly wild." 
 
 '' You must be jesting," returned he j " they seem per- 
 fectly reasonable." 
 
 Miss Dundas laughed. " Like Hamlet's they ' know not 
 seems, but have that within which passeth show!' beheve 
 me, she is mad enough for bedlam ; and of that I coulJ 
 soon convince you. I wonder how Lady Shafto thought 
 of inviting her at all." 
 
 " Well," cried Pembroke, " if those features announce 
 madness, I shall never admire a look of sense again." 
 
 " Bless us," exclaimed Miss Dundas, " you are wonder- 
 fully struck ! Don't you see she is old enough to be your 
 mother .'' "
 
 S48 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " That may be/' answered he, smiling ; " nevertheless 
 she is one of the most lovely women I ever beheld. Come, 
 tell me her name." 
 
 " I will satisfy you in a moment," rejoined Diana ; 
 " and then away with your rhapsodies ! She is the very 
 Countess of Tinemouth who brought that vapfabond fo- 
 reigner to our house, who would have run off with Phemy." 
 
 " Lady Tinemouth ! " exclaimed Pembroke, " I never 
 saw her before. My ever-iamented mother knew her whilst 
 I was abroad, and she esteemed her highly. Pray, present 
 me to her ! " 
 
 " Impossible," replied Diana, vexed at the turn his cu- 
 riosity had taken ; "■ I wrote to her about the insidious 
 •ivretch, and now we don't speak." 
 
 '' Then I will introduce myself," answered he. He was 
 moving away, when iVIiss Dundas caught his arm, and by 
 various attempts at badinage and raillery, held him in his 
 place until the Countess made her farewell courtesy to 
 Lady Shafto, and the door was closed. 
 
 Disappointed at this manoeuvre, Pembroke re-seated 
 himself; and wondering why his aunt and cousin had not 
 hoard of Lady Tinemouth's arrival at Harrowby, he deter- 
 mined to wait on her next day. Regardless of every word 
 which the provoked Diana addressed to him, he remained 
 silent and meditating, until the loud voice of Shafto roaring 
 in his ear, made him turn suddenly round. JNIiss Dundas 
 tried to laugh at his reverie, though she knew that such a 
 flagrant instance of inattention was death to her hopes ; 
 but Pembroke, not inclined to partake in the jest, cooUy 
 asked his bearish companion what he Avanted ? 
 
 " Nothing, upon my soul," cried he, " but to hear you 
 speak. What the devil were you looking at on the carpet ? 
 Miss Dundas tells me, you have lost your heart to yonder 
 grim Countess, my mother wanted me to gallant up the 
 hiU } " 
 
 " Shafto ! " answered Pembroke, rising from his chair, 
 " you cannot be speaking of Lady Tinemouth ? " 
 
 " Efaith I am," roared he ; " and if she be such a 
 scamp as to live without a carriage, I won't be her lackey 
 for nothing. Two miles are not to be tramped over by me.
 
 TIIADDEUS OP WARSAW. 349 
 
 with no better comjianion than an old painted woman of 
 quality." 
 
 " Surely you cannot mean," returned Pembroke^ " that 
 her Ladyship was to walk from this ])lace?" 
 
 " AV^ithout a doubt," cried Shafto, burstinj^ into a horse- 
 laugh : " you would be clever to see my Lady Stingy in 
 any other carriage than her clogs." 
 
 Irritated at the malice of Miss Dundas, and despising 
 the vulgar illiberality of Shafto ; without deigning a reply, 
 Pembroke abruptly left the room ; and hastening out of the 
 house, ran, rather than walked, in hopes of overtaking the 
 Countess before she reached Harrowby. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 Pembroke crossed the little wooden bridge which hes over 
 the Witham ; he scoured the fields ; he leaped every stile 
 and gate in his way ; and at last gained the enclosure that 
 leads to the top of the hill ; where he descried a light mov- 
 ing, and very rightly conjectured it must be the lantern 
 carried by the Countess's attendant. Another spring over 
 the shattered fence cleared all obstacles ; and he found him- 
 self close to Lady Tinemouth, who was leaning on the arm 
 of a gentleman. Pembroke stopped at this sight. Sup- 
 posing she had been met by some person belonging to the 
 town, whose readier gallantry now occupied the place which 
 Miss Dundas had prevented him from filling, he was pre- 
 paring to retreat, when Lady Tinemouth happening to turn 
 her head, imagined, from the hesitating embarrassment of 
 his manner, that he was a stranger who had lost his way, 
 and accosted him with that enquiry. 
 
 Pembroke bowed in some confusion ; and related the 
 simple fact, of his having heard that she quitted Lady 
 Shafto's house without any guard but the servant ; and that 
 the moment he learned the circumstance, he had hurried 
 out to proffer his services. The Countess not only thanked 
 him for such attention, bat, constrained by a civility which
 
 350 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 at that instant she could have wislied not to have been ne- 
 cessary, asked him to walk forward with her to the Abbey, 
 and partake of some refreshment. 
 
 " But," added she, " though I perfectly recollect having 
 seen another gentleman in Lady Shafto's room, besides 
 Doctor Denton, I have not the honour of knowing your 
 name ? " 
 
 " It is Somerset," returned Pembroke : " I am the son 
 of that Lady Somerset, who, during the last year of her life, 
 had the happiness of being intimate with your Ladyship." 
 
 Lady Tinemouth declared her pleasure at this meeting ; 
 and turning to the gentleman, who was walking in silence 
 by her side, " Mr. Constantine," said she, " allow me to 
 introduce to you the cousin of the amiable Miss Beaufort." 
 
 Thaddeus, who had too well recognised the voice of his 
 false friend in the first accents he addressed to the Countess, 
 with a swelling heart bent his head to the cold salutation of 
 Somerset. Hearing that her Ladyship's companion was 
 the sam.e Constantine whom he had liberated from prison, 
 Pembroke was stimulated with a desire to unmask his 
 double villany to Lady Tinemouth ; and conceiving a cu- 
 riosity to see the man, whose person and meretricious qua- 
 lities blinded even the judgment of his aunt, he readily 
 obeyed the second invitation of the Countess, and consented 
 to go home and sup with her. 
 
 i Meanwhile, Thaddeus was agitated with a variety of 
 emotions. Every tone of Pembroke's voice reminding him 
 of happier days, pierced his heart ; whilst a sense of his in- 
 gratitude awakened all the pride and indignation of his soul. 
 Full of resentment, he determined that, whatever might be 
 the result, he would not shrink from an interview, the anti- 
 cipation of which Pembroke (wlio had received from him- 
 self an intimation of the name he had assumed) seemed to 
 regard with indifference. 
 
 Not imagining that Somerset and the Count had any 
 personal knowledge of each other. Lady Tinemouth begged 
 the gentlemen to accompany her into the supper-parlour. 
 Pembroke, witli no inconsiderable degree of rudeness, pushed 
 by Thaddeus to give his hand to the Countess. Thaddeus 
 was so shocked at this instance of ungrateful defiance, and
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 351 
 
 SO insulted in every nerve, that he was obliged to pause a 
 a moment in the hall to summon coolness to follow him 
 with a composed step and dispassionate countenance. He 
 accomplished this conquest over himself ; and taking off his 
 hat, entered the room. Lady Tinemouth began to congra- 
 tulate herself with many kind expressions, on his arrival. 
 The eyes of Pembroke fixed on the calm but severe aspect 
 of the man before him : he stood by the table, with such an 
 air of princely greatness, that the candid heart of Pembroke 
 Somerset soon whispered to him, " Sure nothing ill can 
 dwell in .such a hi'east ! " 
 
 Still his eyes followed him, when he turned round, and 
 when he bent his head to answer the Countess, but in a 
 voice so low that it escaped his ear. Pembroke was bewil- 
 dered. There was a something in the features, in the mien 
 of this foreigner, so like his friend Sobieski ! But then 
 Sobieski was all frankness and animation ; his cheek 
 bloomed with the rich colouring of youth and happiness ; his 
 eyes flashed pleasure, and his lips were decked with smiles. 
 On the contrary, the person before him was not only con- 
 siderably taller, and of more manly proportions, but his face 
 was pale, reserved, and haughty ; besides he did not appear 
 even to recollect the name of Somerset ; and what at once 
 destroyed the supposition, his own was Constantine. 
 
 These reasonings having quickly passed through the mind 
 of Pembroke, they left his heart unsatisfied. The conflict 
 of his mind flushed his cheek ; his bosom beat ; and keep- 
 ing his searching and ardent gaze rivetted on the man who 
 was either his friend or his counterpart. Lady Tinemouth 
 turned away, and the eyes of the young men met. 
 Thaddeus turned paler than before. There is an intelli- 
 gence in the interchange of looks, which cannot be mis- 
 taken ; it is the communication of souls, and there is no 
 deception in their language. Pembroke flew forward, and 
 catching hold of his friend's hand, exclaimed in an impetu- 
 ous voice, "^ Am I right? Are you Sobieski.''" 
 
 " I am," returned Thaddeus, almost inarticulate with 
 emotion, and hardly knowing what to understand by Somer- 
 sets behaviour. 
 
 " Gracious Heaven ! " cried he, still grasping his hand.
 
 352 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 '' and can you have forgotten your friend Pembroke 
 Somerset ? " 
 
 The ingenuous heart of Thaddeus acknowledged the 
 words and manner of Pembroke to be the language of truth ; 
 and, trusting that some mistake had involved his former 
 conduct, he at once cast off suspicion, and throwing his 
 arms around him, strained him to his breast, and burst into 
 tears. 
 
 Lady Tinemouth, who during this scene stood mute with 
 surprise, now advanced to the friends, who were weeping 
 on each other's necks, and taking a hand of each, " My 
 dear Sobieski," cried she, " why did you withhold the 
 knowledge of this friendship from me ! Had you told me 
 that you and Mr. Somerset were acquainted, this happy 
 meeting might have been accomplished sooner." 
 
 " Yes," replied Pembroke, turning to the Countess, and 
 wiping away the tears which were trembling on his cheek, 
 " nothing could have given me pain at this moment, but 
 the conviction that he who was the preserver of my life, and 
 my most generous protector, should in this country have 
 endured the most abject distress, rather than let me know 
 it was in my power to be grateful." 
 
 Thaddeus took out his handkerchief, and for a few mo- 
 ments concealed his face. The Countess looked on him 
 with tenderness; and believing he would sooner regain 
 composure, were he alone with his friend, she stole un- 
 observed out of the room. 
 
 Pembroke affectionately resumed — "^ But, I hope, dear 
 Sobieski, you will never leave me more. I have an excel- 
 lent father ; who, when he is made acquainted with my 
 obligations to you and your noble family, will glory in loving 
 you as a son." 
 
 Having subdued " the woman in his heart," Thaddeus 
 raised his head with an expression in his eyes far different 
 from that which had chilled the blood of Pembroke on their 
 first encounter. 
 
 " Circumstances," said he, " dear Somerset, have made 
 me greatly injure you. A strange neglect on your side, 
 since we separated at Villanow, gave the first blow to my 
 confidence in your friendship. Though I lost your direct
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 353 
 
 address, I wrote to you often, and yet you persevered in 
 silence. After having witnessed the destruction of all that 
 was dear to me in Poland, and then of I'oland itself, when 
 I came to England I wished to give your faithfulness an- 
 other chance ; I adtlressed two letters to you ; I even 
 delivered the last at your door myself, and I saw you in the 
 ■window when 1 sent it in." 
 
 " By all that is sacred," cried Pembroke vehemently, 
 and amazed, " I never saw any letter from you ! 1 wrote 
 you many. I never heard of these you mention. Indeed, 
 1 should even now have been ignorant of the Palatine's, 
 and your mother's cruel fate, had it not been too circum- 
 stantially related in the newspapers." 
 
 " 1 believe you," returned Thaddeus, drawing an agonis- 
 ing sigh at the dreadful picture which the last sentence 
 recalled ; " I believe you ; though at the time of which 
 I speak, I thought otherwise ; for both my letters were 
 re-enclosed in a blank cover, directed as if by your hand, 
 and brought by a servant, with a message that there was no 
 answer." 
 
 " Amazing ! " exclaimed Somerset ; " there must be some 
 villany in this! — Dearest Thaddeus!" cried he, breaking 
 off abruptly and grasping his hand, " 1 would have flown 
 to you, had it been to meet death.'' But why did you not 
 come in yourself .'' AV'ho prevented you ? Then no mis- 
 take could have happened. AVliy did you not come in 
 yourself .'' " 
 
 " Because 1 was uncertain of your sentiments : my first 
 letter remained unnoticed ; and my heart, dear Somerset," 
 added he, pressing his hand, " would not stoop to solicit- 
 ation." 
 
 " Solicitation ! " exclaimed Pembroke with warmth, " you 
 have a right to demand my life ! But there is some rascally 
 business in this affair ; nothing else could have carried it 
 through : if any of my servants have ilared to open these 
 letters — O Sobieski !" cried he, interrupting himself, " how 
 you must have despised me ! " 
 
 " I was afflicted," returned Thaddeus, " that the man 
 whom my family so warmly loved could prove so unworthy; 
 and afterwards, whenever 1 met you in the streets, which I 
 
 A A
 
 S54 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 think was once or twice, I confess, to pass you cut me to 
 the heart." 
 
 " And you have met me ? " exclaimed Pembroke, " and 
 I not see you ! I cannot comprehend it." 
 
 " Yes," answered Thaddeus ; " and the first time was 
 going into the play-house. I believe I called after you." 
 
 " It is now ten months since," returned Pembroke ; " I 
 remember very well that somebody called out my name 
 while I was handing Lady Calthorpe and her sister into 
 the porch. I looked about, and not seeing any one I knew, 
 thought I must have been mistaken. But why, dear So- 
 bieski, why did you not follow me into the theatre ? " 
 
 Thaddeus shook his head, and smiling languidly, " My 
 poverty would not permit me," replied he ; " but I waited 
 in the hall until every body left the house, in hopes of in- 
 tercepting you as you passed." 
 
 Pembroke sprung from his chair at these words, and with 
 the most vehement voice and action exclaimed, " I see it ! 
 That hypocrite Loftus is at the bottom of it ! He followed 
 me into the theatre ; he must have seen you, and his 
 cursed selfishness was alarmed. Yes, it must be he ! He 
 would not allow me to return that way ; when I said I 
 would, he told me a thousand lies about the carriages 
 coming round ; and, like a fool, 1 went out by another 
 door." 
 
 " Who is Mr. Loftus ? " enquired Thaddeus, surprised 
 at his friend's suspicion ; " I do not know the man." 
 
 " What ! " returned Pembroke, walking about the room 
 in a heat, " don't you remember that Loftus is the name 
 of the scoundrel who persuaded me to volunteer against 
 Poland .-^ To screen his baseness, I have brought all this 
 upon myself." 
 
 " Now I recollect it," replied Thaddeus ; " but I never 
 saw him." 
 
 " Yet I am not less certain that I am right," replied 
 Somerset ; " I will tell you my reasons. After I quitted 
 Villanow, you remember I met him at Dantzic. Before 
 we left the port, he implored, almost on his knees, that in 
 pity to his mother and sisters, whom he said he supported 
 out of his salary, I would refrain from incensing my parents
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 355 
 
 against him by relating any circumstance of our visit to 
 Poland. The man shed tears as he spoke ; and like a fool 
 I consented to keep the secret till the vicar of Somerset (a 
 poor soul, ill of the dropsy,) dies, and he be in possession 
 of the living. A\'hen we landed in England, I found the 
 cause of my sudden recall was the illness of my dear mother. 
 But Heaven denied me the ha|)piness of beholding lier again : 
 she had been buried two days before I reached the shore." 
 Pembroke paused a moment, and then resumed — " For 
 near a month after my return I could not quit my room ; 
 but on my recovery, 1 wrote both to you and to tlie Pala- 
 tine. I repeated my letters at least every six weeks during 
 the first year of our separation ; yet you persisted in being 
 silent. Hurt as I was at this neglect, I believed that grati- 
 tude demanded some sacrifices from pride, and I continued 
 to write even till the spring following. IVIean while the 
 papers of the day teemed with Sobieski's actions, Sobieski's 
 fame ; and supposing that increasing glory had blotted 
 me out of your memory, I resolved thenceforth to regard 
 our friendship as a dream, and never to speak of it more." 
 
 Confounded at this double misapprehension, Thaddeus, 
 with a glowing countenance, expressed his regret for having 
 doubted his friend ; and repeating the assurance of having 
 been punctual to his promise of correspondence even when 
 he deemed him inconstant, acknowledged that nothing but a 
 premeditated scheme could have effected so many disap- 
 pointments. 
 
 " Ay," returned Pembroke, reddening with awakened 
 anger ; " I could swear that Mr. Loftus has all my letters 
 in his bureau at this moment ! No house ever gave a man 
 a better opportunity to play the rogue in than ours. It is 
 a custom with us to lay our letters in a morning on the hall- 
 table, whence they are sent to the office ; and when the 
 post arrives they are spread out in the same way, that their 
 several owners may take them as they pass to breakfast. 
 From this management, I cannot doubt the means by which 
 Mr. Loftus, under the hope of separating us for ever, has 
 intercepted every letter to you and every letter from you. 
 I suppose the wretch feared I might repent my engage- 
 ment, if our correspondence were allowed. He trembled
 
 356 
 
 THADDEVS OF WARSAW. 
 
 lest the business should be blown before the vicar died, and 
 he in consequence lose both the expected living and his pre- 
 sent situation about Lord Arun. A villain ! for once he 
 has judged rightly ! I will unmask him to my father, and 
 show him what it is to purchase subsistence at the expense 
 of honour and justice." 
 
 Thaddeus, who could not withhold immediate credit to 
 these evidences of chicanery, tried to calm the violence of 
 his friend; who only answered, by insisting on having Ills 
 company back with him to Somerset Castle. 
 
 " I long to present you to my father," cried he : " when 
 I tell him who you are, of your kindness to me, how re- 
 joiced will he be ! How happy, how proud to have you his 
 guest ; to show the grandson of the Palatine of Masovia 
 tlie warm gratitude of a Briton's heart ! Indeed, Sobieski, 
 you will love him ; for he is generous and noble like your 
 inestimable grandfather. Besides," added he, smiling with 
 a sudden recollection, " there is my lovely cousin Miss 
 Beaufort, who I verily believe will fly into your arms !" 
 
 "The blood rushed over the cheeks of Thaddeus at this 
 speech of his friend ; and half suppressing a sigh, he shook 
 his head. 
 
 " Don't look so like an infidel," resumed Somerset. " If 
 you have any doubts of possessing her affections, I can put 
 you out of your pain by a single sentence ! — When Lady 
 Dundas's household, with myself amongst them (for little 
 did I suspect I was joining the cry against my friend), were 
 asserting the most flagrant instances of your deceit to Eu- 
 phemia, Mary alone withstood the tide of malice, and com- 
 pelled me to release you." 
 
 " Gracious Providence !" cried Thaddeus, catching Pem- 
 broke's hand, and looking eagerly and with agitation in his 
 face, " was it you who came to my prison .'' Was it Miss 
 Beaufort who visited my lodgings ? ' 
 
 " Indeed it was," returned his friend, " and I blush for 
 myself that I quitted Newgate without an interview. Had 
 I followed the dictates of common decency I should have 
 seen you ; and then, what pain would have been spared 
 my dear cousin ! "^^^hat a joyful surprise would have awaited 
 myself ! "
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 357 
 
 Thaddeus could only reply by pressing his friend's hand. 
 Ills brain whirled. He could not decide on the nature of 
 his feelings ; one moment he would have given worlds to 
 throw himself at Miss Beaufort's feet, and the next, he 
 trembled at the prospect of meeting her so soon. 
 
 " Dear Sobieski !" cried Pembroke, "how strangely you 
 receive this intelligence ! Is it ]>cssible the love of JNIary 
 Beaufort can be rejected ? " 
 
 " No," cried the Count, his fine face flushed with emo- 
 tion ; " I adore Miss Beaufort. Her virtues possess my 
 whole heart. But can I forget that I have only that heart 
 to offer ? Can I forget that I am a beggar ? That even now 
 I exist on her bounty ? " The eyes of Thaddeus, and the 
 sudden tremour which shook his frame, finished this appeal 
 to his fate. 
 
 Pembroke found it enter his soul. To hide its effect, 
 he threw himself on his friend's breast, and exclaimed, 
 " Do not injure me and my father by these sentiments! 
 You are come, dearest Sobieski, to a second home. Sir 
 Robert Somerset will consider himself ennobled in supply- 
 ing the place of your lamented grandfather ! — and my 
 cousin JNIary, as you love her, shall bind us still closer ; 
 you must be my relation as well as my friend." 
 
 Thaddeus replied with animated acknowledgments of 
 Pembroke's affection : — " But," added he, " I must not 
 allow the generous spirit of my dear Somerset to believe, 
 that I can live a dependent on any power but the Author 
 of my being. I consider nothing so degrading as an ex- 
 istence wasted in idleness ; therefore, if Sir Robert Somerset 
 will assist me to procure some honest means of acquiring 
 support, I shall thank him from my soul. In no other 
 way, my kindest friend, can I ever be brought to tax the 
 gratitude of your father." 
 
 Pembroke coloured at this, and exclaimed in a voice of 
 displeasure, " Gracious Heaven, Sobieski, what can you 
 mean ? Do you imagine, that ever my father or myself 
 can forget, that you were little less than a prince in your 
 own country ? That when in such a high station, you 
 treated me like a brother ? That you preserved me, even 
 when I hfted my arm against your life .'' Can we be such 
 A A 3
 
 S58 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 monsters as to forget all this ? or to think that we acted 
 justly by you, in permitting you to labour for your bread? 
 No, ThaddeuSj my very soul spurns the idea. Your mo- 
 ther sheltered me as a son ; and I insist that you allow my 
 father to perform the same part by you ! Besides, you shall 
 not be idle ; you may have a commission in the army, and 
 I will follow you." 
 
 The Count pressed the hand of his friend, and looking 
 gratefully in his face, shook his head, and replied, " Had 
 I a hundred tongues, my generous Pembroke, I could not 
 express my sense of your friendship ; it is indeed a cordial 
 to my heart ; it imparts to me an earnest of happiness, 
 ■which I thought had fled for ever ; but it shall not allure 
 me from my principles. I am resolved not to live a life of 
 indolence : and I am resolved at this period not to enter 
 the British army. No," added he, emotion elevating his 
 tone and manner, " rather would I toil for subsistence by 
 the sweat of my brow, than be subjected to the necessity of 
 acting in concert with those ravagers who destroyed my 
 country ! I cannot fight by the side of the Russians ! I 
 cannot enlist under their allies ! I will not be led out to 
 devastation ! Mine was, and ever shall be, a defensive 
 sword; — and should danger threaten England, I would be 
 as ready to withstand her enemies, as I ardently, though 
 ineffectually, opposed those of unhappy Poland." 
 
 Pembroke recognised the high-souled Thaddeus of War- 
 saw in this lofty burst of enthusiasm ; and aware that his 
 father's munificence and manner of conferring esteem and 
 obligations would go farther towards removing these 
 scruples than all his arguments, he did not attempt to com- 
 bat a resolution which he knew he could not subdue ; but 
 tried to prevail with him to become his guest, until some- 
 thing could be arranged to suit his wishes. 
 
 Thaddeus consented to accompany Somerset to the Castle, 
 when Sir Robert had been apprised of his coming. Pem- 
 broke perceived the morning had surprised them ; and 
 shaking his friend warndy by the hand, bade him farewell: 
 then hastening down the hill, he arrived at the Lodge as 
 the dawn began to break. 
 
 At an early hour he gave orders to his groom, wrote a
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 359 
 
 slight apology to Shafto, for his abrupt departure, and 
 mounting his horse, gallojied away, full of delight, towards 
 Somerset Castle. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 Next morning, when the Countess and Thaddeus met at 
 breakfast, she expressed surprise and pleasure at the scene 
 of the preceding night ; but intimated some mortification 
 that he had withheld any part of his conlidence from her. 
 Sobieski soon obtained her pardon, by relating the manner 
 of his first meeting with Mr. Somerset, and the consequent 
 events of that momentous period. 
 
 Lady Tinemouth wept over the cUstressfuI fate that 
 marked the residue of his narrative, Avith a tenderness 
 which endeared her to his soul. But when, in compliance 
 with his enquiries, she informed him how it happened that 
 she was at Harrowby Abbey, when he supposed her to be 
 on the M^olds, it was his turn to pity, and to shudder at 
 his consanguinity with Lord Harwold. 
 
 " Indeed," added the Countess, " you must have had a 
 most tedious journey from Harwold Park to Harrowby ; 
 and nothing but my pleasure could exceed my astonishment 
 when I met you last night on the hill." 
 
 Thaddeus declared that traveUing a few miles farther 
 than he intended, was no fatigue to liim ; yet, were it 
 otherwise, the happiness which he then enjoyed would have 
 acted as a panacea for worse ills, could he have seen her 
 Ladyship looking as well as when she left London. 
 
 Lady Tinemouth smiled. " You are right, Sobieski ; I 
 am worse than Avhen I was in town. My solitary journey 
 to Harwold harassed me much ; and when my son sent me 
 orders to leave it, because his father wanted the place for 
 the autumnal months, his capricious cruelty seemed to aug- 
 ment the hectic of my disorder. Nevertheless I obeyed 
 him ; and in great distress of heart arrived here last week. 
 How kind you were to follow me ! Who informed you of 
 A A 4
 
 360 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 the place of my destination : liartUy any of Lady Sophia's 
 household ? " 
 
 " No," returned Thaddeus ; " I luckily had the pre- 
 caution to enquire at the inn where the coach stopped, 
 what part of Lord Tinemouth's family were at the Park ; 
 and when I heard, that the Earl himself was there, my 
 next question was, where then is the Countess ? The 
 landlord very civilly told me of your having engaged a car- 
 riage from his house a day or two before, to carry you to 
 one of his Lordship's seats within a few miles of Somerset 
 Castle. Hence, from what I had heard you say of the 
 situation of Ilarrowby, I concluded it must be the Abbey; 
 and so I sought you at a venture." 
 
 " And I hope a happy issue," replied she, " will arise 
 from your wanderings ! This rencontre with so old a friend 
 as Mr. Somerset is a -pleasing omen. For my part, I was 
 ignorant of the arrival of the family at the Castle until 
 yesterday morning, when I sent off a messenger to apprise 
 my dear Miss Beaufort of my being in her neighbourhood. 
 To my great dissatisfaction Lady Shafto found me out im- 
 mediately ; and when, in compliance with her teasing in- 
 vitation, I walked down to sit an hour with her last night, 
 little did I expect to meet the amiable cousin of our sweet 
 friend. So delightful an accident has amply repaid me for 
 the pain I endvn-ed in seeing Miss Dundas in her Lady- 
 ships house ; an insolent and reproachful letter which she 
 wrote to me on your account has rendered her an object of 
 my most decided aversion." 
 
 Thaddeus smiled and bowed : " Since, my dear Lady 
 Tinemouth, her groundless malice and Miss Euphemia's 
 folly have failed in estranging either your confidence or the 
 esteem of Miss Beaufort from me, I despise and pardon 
 them both. Perhaps I ought to pity them ; for is it not 
 difficult to pass through the enchantments of wealth and 
 adulation, and emerge as pure as when we entered them } 
 Unclouded fortune is, indeed, a trial of spirits ; and how 
 brightly does Miss Beaufort rise from the blaze ! Sur- 
 rounded by splendour, homage, and indulgence, she is yet 
 all nature, gentleness, and virtue !" 
 
 The Countess, who wished to appear cheerful, rallied
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 361 
 
 him on the warmth of his expressions ; and observing the 
 day was fine, invited him out to walk witli her tlirougli the 
 romantic domains of the Abbey. 
 
 The family of Somerset were just drawn round the 
 breakfast-table when they were agreeably surprised by the 
 sudden entrance of Pembroke. During the repast Miss 
 Beaufort repeated the contents of the note she had re- 
 ceived the preceding day from Lady Tiiiemouth ; and re- 
 quested her cousin would be kind enough to drive her in 
 his curricle that morning to Harrowby. 
 
 " I will, with pleasure," answered he. " I have seen 
 her Ladyship, and even supped with her last night." 
 
 " How came that?" asked Mrs. Dorothy. 
 
 " I shall explain it to my father, whenever he will honour 
 me with an audience," returned he, addressing the Baronet 
 with all the joy of his heart looking out at his eyes ; 
 " wiU you indulge me, dear sir, by half an hour's atten- 
 tion ? " 
 
 " Certainly," replied Sir Robert ; " at pi'escnt I am 
 going into my study to settle my steward's books ; but the 
 moment I have finished, I will send for you." 
 
 Mrs. Dorothy walked out after her brother, to attend 
 her aviary ; and jNIiss Beaufort remaining alone with her 
 cousin, made some enquiries about the Countess's reasons 
 for coming to the Abbey. " I know nothing about them," 
 replied he, gaily, " for she went to bed almost the instant 
 1 entered the house. Too good to remain where her com- 
 pany was not wanted, she left me to enjoy a most delightful 
 tcte-d-tete with a dear friend, from whom I parted four 
 years ago. In short, we sat up the whole night together, 
 talking over past scenes, — and present ones too, for I as- 
 sure you, you were not forgotten." 
 
 " I ! what had I to do with it.^" replied Mary, smil- 
 ing : " I cannot recollect any dea)' friend of yours, whom 
 you have not seen these four years." 
 
 " A^ell, that is strange ! " answered Pembroke ; " he re- 
 members you perfectly ; but, true to your sex, you affirm 
 what you please ; tliough I know there is not a man in the 
 world you prefer before him." 
 
 Miss Beaufort shook her head, laughed, and sighed ; and
 
 362 THADDEUS OF WA^RSAW. 
 
 withdrawing her hand from his, threatened to leave him if 
 he would not be serious. 
 
 " I am serious," cried he. " Would you have me 
 swear that I have seen him whom you most wish to see ?" 
 
 She regarded the expression of his countenance, with a 
 momentary emotion ; and taking her seat again, " You 
 can have seen no man," said she, " that is of consequence 
 to me ! so, whoever your friend may be, I have only to 
 congratulate you on a meeting which affords you so much 
 delight." 
 
 Pembroke burst into a laugh at her composure. " So 
 cold ! " cried he, " so cautious ! Yet I verily believe you 
 would participate my delight, were I to tell you who he is. 
 However, you are such a sceptic, that I won't hint even one 
 of the many fine things he said of you." 
 
 She smiled incredulously. 
 
 " I could beat you, Mary," exclaimed he, " for this 
 oblique way of saying I am telling lies ! But I will have 
 my revenge on your curiosity ; for, on my honour, I de- 
 clare," added he, emphatically, " that last night I met with 
 a friend at Lady Tinemouth's who four years ago saved 
 my life ; who entertained me several weeks in his house ; 
 — and who has seen, and adores you ! 'Tis true, on my 
 hopes of heaven ; — and what is more, I have promised 
 that you will repay these weighty obligations, by the free 
 gift of this dear hand. What do you say to this, my sweet 
 Mary .'' " 
 
 Miss Beaufort looked anxious at the serious and energe- 
 tic manner in which he made these assertions ; even the 
 sportive kiss that ended the question did not dispel the 
 gravity with which she prepared to reply. 
 
 Pembroke perceiving her intent, prevented her by ex- 
 claiming, " Cease, Mary, cease ! I see you are going to 
 make a false statement. Let truth prevail, and you will 
 not deny that I am suing for a plighted faith ? You will 
 not deny who it was that softened and subdued your heart ? 
 You cannot conceal from me, that the wanderer Constantine 
 possesses your affections ? " 
 
 She reddened with pain and displeasure; and rising from 
 her seat, " I did not expect tliis cruel, this ungenerous
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 3G3 
 
 speech from you, Pembroke ! " cried she, averting her tear- 
 ful eyes. " What have I done to deserve so rude, so un- 
 feehng a reproach ? '' 
 
 Pembroke threw his arm round her waist. " Come," 
 said he, in a tender voice, " don't be tragicah I never 
 meant to reproach you, child : I dare say, if you gave your 
 heart, it was only in return for his. I know you are a 
 grateful girl ; and, I verily believe, you won't find much 
 difference between my friend, the young Count Sobieski, 
 and the forlorn Constantine." 
 
 A suspicion of the truth flashed across Miss Beaufort's 
 mind : iniable to speak, she caught hold of her cousin's 
 hands ; and looking eagerly in his face, her eyes declared 
 the question she would have asked. 
 
 Pembroke laughed triumphantly ; but a servant entering 
 to tell him Sir Robert was ready, he strained her to his 
 breast and exclaimed, " Now I am revenged ! Farewell ! 
 I leave you to all the pangs of doubt and curiosity ! He 
 then flew out of the room with an arch glance at her agi- 
 tated countenance, and hurried up stairs. 
 
 She clasped her trembling hands together, as the door 
 closed on him. " O gracious Providence ! " cried she, 
 " what am I to understand by this mystery, this joy of 
 my cousin's ? Can it be possible that the illustrious So- 
 bieski, and my contemned Constantine, are the same per- 
 son } " A burning blush overspread her face and bosom, 
 at the expression 7ny which had escaped her lips. 
 
 Whilst the graces, the sweetness, the dignity of Thad- 
 deus captivated her notice, his sufferings, his virtues, and 
 the mysterious interests which involved his history, fixed 
 her attention and awakened her esteem. From these 
 grounds the step is short to love. " When the mind is 
 conquered, the heart surrenders at discretion." But she 
 knew not that she had advanced too far to retreat, until the 
 last scene at Dundas House, by forcing her to defend 
 Constantine against the charge of loving her, made her 
 confess to herself how much she wished the charge were 
 true. 
 
 Poor and lowly as he seemed, she found that her whole 
 heart and life were wrapped in his remembrance ; that his
 
 364> 
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 worshipped idea was her most precious solace ; her pro- 
 perty the dear treasure which was her secret and supreme 
 felicity. It was the companion of her walks, the monitor 
 of her actions. Whenever she planned, whenever she exe- 
 cuted, she asked herself, Hoav wotdd Constantine consider 
 this ? and accordingly did she approve or condemn her 
 conduct. 
 
 Though separated far from this idol of her memory, 
 thus was the impression he had stamped on her heart ever 
 present. The shade of Laura visited the solitude of VaU- 
 cluse ; the image of Constantine haunted the walks of 
 Somerset. The loveliness of nature ; its leafy groves, and 
 verdant meadows ; its blooming mornings, and luxuriant 
 sunsets ; the romantic shadows of twilight, or the soft 
 glories of the moon and stars ; as they pressed beauty and 
 sentiment upon her heart, aAvoke it to the remembrance of 
 Constantine : she saw his image, she felt his soul, in every 
 object. Subtile and undefinable is that ethereal chord 
 which unites our tenderest thoughts with their chain of 
 association ! 
 
 Before this conversation, in which Pembroke mentioned 
 the name of Constantine with such badinage and ambi- 
 guity, he never permitted him to be spoken of by Mary or 
 his aunt, Avithout declaring a displeasure nearly amounting 
 to anger. Hence when he now so strangely altered his 
 tone. Miss Beaufort necessarily concluded that he had seen, 
 in the person of him she most valued, the man whose 
 public character she had often heard him admire ; and 
 who, she now doubted not, had at some former period 
 given him some private reason for calling him his friend. 
 — Before this time, she more than once had suspected, from 
 the opinions which Somerset occasionally repeated respect- 
 ing the affairs of Poland, that he could only have acquired 
 so accurate a knowledge of its events by having visited 
 the country itself. She mentioned her suspicion to Mr. 
 Loftus : he denied the fact ; and she thought no more on 
 the subject, until the present ambiguous hints of her cousin 
 conjured up these doubts anew ; and led her to suppose, 
 that if Pembroke had not disobeyed his father so far as to 
 go to Warsaw, he must have met with the Count Sobieski
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 365 
 
 in some other realm. The possibility that this young 
 hero, of whom fame spoke so loudly, might be the myste- 
 rious Constantine, bewildered and delighted her. The 
 more she compared what she had heard of the one, with 
 what she witnessed in the other, the more was she recon- 
 ciled to the probability of her ardent hope. Besides, she 
 could not for a moment believe that her cousin would so 
 cruelly sport with her delicacy and peace, as to excite 
 ex2)ectations he could not fulfil. 
 
 Agitated by a suspense Avhich bordered on agony, with 
 a beating heart she heard his quick step descending the 
 stairs. The door opened, and Pembroke flying into the 
 room caught up his hat : as he was darting away again, 
 unable to restrain her impatience. Miss Beaufort with an 
 imploring voice ejaculated his name. He turned, and dis- 
 played to her amazed sight a countenance in which no ves- 
 tige of liis former animation could be traced ; his cheek was 
 flushed ; and his eyes shot a wild fire that struck to her 
 heart. Unconscious what she did, she ran up to him ; but 
 Pembroke, pushing her back, exclaimed, " Don't ask me 
 any questions, if you would not drive me to madness." 
 
 " O Heaven !" cried she, catching his arm and cling- 
 ing to him while the eagerness of his motion dragged her 
 into the hall ; " tell me ! Has any thing happened to my 
 guardian ? to your friend ? to Constantine ? " 
 
 " No," replied he, looking at her with a face fuU of 
 desperation ; " but my father commands me to treat him hke 
 a villain." 
 
 She could hardly credit her senses at this confirmation 
 that Constantine and Sobieski were one : turning giddy with 
 the tumultuous delight that rushed over her soul, she stag- 
 gered back a few paces, and leaning against the open door, 
 tried to recover breath to regain the room she had left. 
 
 Pembroke, having escaped froin her grasp, ran furiously 
 down the hill, mounted his horse, and forbidding any 
 groom to attend him, galloped towards the high road with 
 the impetuosity of a madman. All the powers of his soul 
 were in arras. Wounded, dishonoured, stigmatised with 
 ingratitude and baseness, he believed himself to be the 
 most degraded of men.
 
 366 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 Sir Robert Somerset cherished a hatred to the Poles in 
 consequence of an injury he had received in early youth 
 from some of those people. In this instance, his dislike 
 was implacable ; and when his son set out for the Continent 
 he positively forbade him to enter Poland. Notwith- 
 standing his remembrance of these violated injunctions, 
 when Pembroke joined the Baronet in his library, he did 
 it with confidence. With a bounding heart and animated 
 countenance, he recapitulated how he had been wrought 
 upon by the Russian noblemen to take up arms in their 
 cause and march into Poland. At these last words his 
 father turned pale, and though he did not speak, the 
 denunciation on his brow was terrible. 
 
 Pembroke, who expected some marks of displeasure, has- 
 tened to obliterate his disobedience, by narrating the event 
 which introduced not only the young Count Sobieski to his 
 succour, but the consequent friendship of the whole of 
 that princely family. 
 
 Sir Robert still made no verbal reply, but his counte- 
 nance deepened in gloom ; and when Pembroke, with all 
 the pathos of grief, attempted to describe the calamitous 
 death of the Palatine, the horrors which attended the last 
 hours of the Countess, and the succeeding misery of Thad- 
 deus, who was now in England, no language can paint the rage 
 which at once burst from the Baronet. He stamped on 
 the ground, he covered his face with his clenched hands; 
 then turning on his son, with the most tremendous fury he 
 exclaimed, " Pembroke ! You have outraged my com- 
 mands ! And never will I pardon you, if this young man 
 ever blast me with his sight." 
 
 " Merciful Heaven ! " cried Pembroke, thunder-struck at 
 a violence, which he almost wished might proceed from 
 any cause but intention : " Surely something has agitated 
 my father ! What can this mean ? " 
 
 Sir Robert shook his head, whilst his teeth ground against 
 each other. " Don't mistake me," replied he in a firm voice. 
 " I am perfectly in my senses. It depends on you that I 
 continue so. You know my oath against those accursed 
 Polanders ; and, I repeat again, if you ever bring that 
 young man into my presence, you shall never see me more."
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 367 
 
 A cold dew overspread the body of Pembroke. He 
 would have caught his father's hand, but he hekl it back. 
 " O sir ! " said he, " you surely cannot intend that I 
 shall treat with ingratitude the man who saved my life ? " 
 
 Sir Robert did not vouchsafe him an answer, but con- 
 tinued walking up and down the room, until his agitation 
 increasing at every step, he opened the door of an interior 
 apartment and retired, bidding his son remain. 
 
 The horror-struck Pembroke waited a quarter of an hour, 
 before his father re-entered. "When he did appear, the 
 deep gloom of his eye gave no encouragement to his son, 
 who, hanging down his head, recoiled from speaking first. 
 Sir Robert approaclied with a composed but severe coun- 
 tenance, and said, " I have been seeking every palliation 
 that your conduct will admit, but I can find none. Before 
 you quitted England, you knew well my abhorrence of the 
 Polish nation. One of that country, many years ago, 
 wounded my happiness in a way I shall never recover. 
 From that hour I took an oath, never to enter its borders ; 
 and never to suffer one of its people to come within my 
 doors. Rash, disobedient boy ! You know my disposition, 
 and you liave seen the emotion with which this dilemma 
 has shaken my soul ! But be it on your head : you have 
 incurred obligations which I cannot repay. I will not per- 
 jure myself, to defray a debt contracted against my positive 
 and declared principles. I never will see this Polander you 
 speak of; and it is my express command, on pain of my 
 eternal malediction, that you break with him entirely." 
 
 Pembroke fell into a seat. Sir Robert proceeded. 
 
 " I pity your distress, but my resolution cannot be shaken. 
 Oaths are not to be broken with impunity. You must either 
 resign him or resign me. We may compromise your debt 
 of gratitude. I will give you deeds to put your friend in 
 possession of five hundred pounds a-year for life, for ever ; 
 but, from the hour in which you tell him so, you must see 
 him no more." 
 
 Sir Robert was quitting the room, when Pembroke, start- 
 ing from his chair, threw himself in agony on his knees, 
 and catching by the skirt of his father's coat, implored him 
 for God's sake to recall his words ; to remember, that he
 
 dOo THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 was affixing everlasting dishonour on his son ! " Remember, 
 dear Sir ! " cried he, holding his struggling hand, " that the 
 man to whom you offer money as a compensation for insult, 
 is of a nature too noble to receive it. He will reject it, and 
 spurn me ; and I shall know that I deserve his scorn. For 
 mercy's sake, spare me the agony of harrowing up the heart 
 of my preserver ; of meeting reproach from his eyes ! " 
 
 " Leave me ! " cried the Baronet, breaking from him ; 
 " I repeat, unless you Avish to incur my curse, do as I have 
 commanded." 
 
 Thus outraged, thus agonised, Pembroke had appeared 
 before the eyes of his cousin Mary, more like a distracted 
 creature than a man possessed of his senses. Shortly after 
 his abrupt departure, her apprehension was petrified to a 
 dreadful certainty of some cruel ruin to her hopes, by an 
 order she received in the hand-writing of her uncle, com- 
 manding her not to attempt visiting Lady Tinemouth whilst 
 the Count Sobieski continued to be her guest. 
 
 Hardly knowing whither he went, Pembroke did not ar- 
 rive at the ruined aisle which leads to the habitable part of 
 the Abbey, until near three o'clock. He enquired of the 
 servant who took his horse, whether the Countess and Mr. 
 Constantine were at home. The man replied in the affirm- 
 ative ; but added with a sad countenance, he feared neither 
 of them could be seen. 
 
 " For what reason .'' " demanded Somerset. 
 
 " Alas ! sir," replied the servant, " about an hour ago 
 my Lady was seized with a violent fit of coughing, which 
 ended in the ruptui-e of a blood vessel. It continued to 
 flow so long, that Mr. Constantine told the apothecary, whom 
 he had summoned, to send for a physician. Tlie Doctor 
 is not yet arrived ; and Mr. Constantine won't leave my 
 Lady." 
 
 • Though Mr. Somerset was truly concerned at the illness 
 of the Countess, the respite it afforded him from immedi- 
 ately declaring the ungrateful message of Sir Robert, gave 
 him no inconsiderable degree of ease. Some little relieved 
 by the hoj>e of being for one day spared the anguish of 
 displaying his father in a disgraceful light, he entered the
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 369 
 
 Abbey, and commissioned a maid-servant to inform Thad- 
 deus he was below. 
 
 In a few minutes the girl returned with the following 
 lines on a piece of paper : — 
 
 " I am grieved I cannot see my dear Somerset to-day ! 
 I fear my revered friend is on her death-bed. I have sent 
 for Dr. Cavencb'sh, who is now at Stamford ; doubtless you 
 know he is a man of the first abilities. If human skill could 
 preserve her, I might yet have hopes ; but her disorder is 
 a consumption, and its stroke is sure. I am now sitting 
 by her bed-side, and writing what she dictates to her hus- 
 band, her son, and her daughter : painful, you may believe, 
 is the task ! I cannot, my dear Somerset, add more than 
 my hope of seeing you soon ; and that you will join in 
 prayers to Heaven for the restoration of my inestimable 
 friend, with your faithful 
 
 " SOBIESKI." 
 
 " Alas ! unhappy, persecuted Sobieski !" thought Pem- 
 broke, as he closed the paper : " to what art thou doomed ! 
 Some friends are torn from thee by death ; others deseit 
 thee in the hour of trouble." 
 
 He took out his pencil to answer this distressing epistle, 
 but he stopped at the first word ; he durst not write that 
 his father would fulfil any one of those engagements, which 
 he had so largely promised ; and throwing away the pencil 
 and the paper, he left a verbal declaration of his sorrow at 
 what had happened, and an assurance of calling next day. 
 Turning his back on a house, which he had left in the 
 morning with such animating hopes, he remounted his horse; 
 and melancholy and slow, rode about the country until even- 
 ing. So unwilling was he to return to that home, which 
 now threatened him with the frowns of his father, the tears 
 of Mary Beaufort, and the miserable reflections of his own 
 wretched heart.
 
 370 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 Doctor Cavendish, not having quitted his friend at Stam- 
 ford, set off for Harrowby the instant ]\Ir. Constan tine's 
 messenger arrived ; and before midnight ahghted at the 
 Abbey. 
 
 When he entered Lady Tinemouth's chamber he found 
 her supported in the arms of Thaddeus, and struggling with 
 a second rupture of her lungs. As he approached the bed, 
 Thaddeus turned his eyes on him with an expression that 
 powerfully told his fears. Dr. Cavendish silently pressed 
 his hand ; then taking from his pocket some styptic drops, 
 he made the Countess swallow them, and soon saw that they 
 succeeded in stopping the Ijlood. 
 
 Thaddeus and his friend remained by the side of the 
 suffering Lady Tinemouth until ten in the morning, when 
 she sunk into a gentle sleep. Complete stillness being ne- 
 cessary to continue this repose, the Doctor proposed leaving 
 a maid to watch by her Ladyship ; and drawing the Count 
 out of the room, descended the stairs. 
 
 Mr. Somerset had been arrived half an hour, and met 
 them in the breakfast-parlour. After a few kind words 
 exchanged between the parties, they sat down with dejected 
 countenances to their melancholy meal. Thaddeus was too 
 much absorbed in the scene he had left to take any thing 
 but a dish of coffee. 
 
 " Do you think Lady Tinemouth is in imminent danger? " 
 enquii-ed Pembroke of the Doctor. 
 
 Dr. Cavendish sighed, and turning to Thaddeus, directed 
 to him the answer which his friend's question demanded. 
 " I am afraid, my dear Mr. Constantine," said he, in a re- 
 luctant voice, " that you aie to sustain a new tjia! ! I fear 
 she cannot live eight-and-lbrty hours." 
 
 Thaddeus cast down his eyes and sluiddered, but made 
 no reply. Further renia.ks were prevented by a messenger 
 from the Countess, who desired Mr. Constantine's innnediate 
 attendance at her bed-side. lie obeyed. In half an hour 
 lie returned, with the tears yet wet on his cheek.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 371 
 
 " Dearest Thaddeus ! " cried Pembroke, " I trust the 
 Countess is not worse ? This emotion of yours is too dis- 
 tressing: it afflicts my very heart." Indeed it rent it; for 
 Pembroke could not help internally acknowledging tliat Avhen 
 Sobieski should close the eyes of Lady Tinemouth, he would 
 be paying the last sad office to his last friend. That dear 
 distinction, he durst no longer arrogate to himself. Denied 
 the fulnlment of its duties, he thought to retain the title 
 would be an assumption without a right. 
 
 Thaddeus drew his hand over his again overflowing eyes. 
 " The Countess herself," said he, " feels the truth of what 
 Dr. Cavendish told us. She sent for me to beg, that as I 
 loved her, or would wish to see her die in peace, to devise 
 some means of bringing her daughter to the Abbey to-night. 
 As for Lord Harwold, she says, his behaviour, since he 
 arrived at manhood, has been of a nature so cruel and un- 
 natural, that she would not draw on herself the misery, nor 
 on him the added guilt, of a refusal : but with regard to 
 Lady Albina, who has been quiescent in all their barbarities, 
 she trusts a daughter's heart might be prevailed on to seek 
 a last embrace from a dying parent. It is this request," 
 continued he, " that agitates me. ^Vhen she pictured to 
 me, with all the fervour of a mother, her doating fondness 
 for this daughter (on whom, wlienever she did venture to 
 hope, all those hopes rested) ; when she wrung my hands, 
 and beseeched me, as if I had been the sole disposer of her 
 fate, to let her see her child before she died ; I could only 
 promise every exertion to effect it; and with an aching heart 
 I came to consult you." 
 
 Dr. Cavendish was opening his lips to speak, but Somer- 
 set, in his eagerness to relieve his friend, did not i)erceive 
 it, and immediately answered : " This very hour I will un- 
 dertake what you have promised. I know Lord Tinemouth's 
 family are now at the AVolds. It is only thirty miles dis- 
 tant ; I will send a servant, to have relays of horses ready. 
 My curricle, which is at the door, will be more convenient 
 than a chaise ; and I will engage to be back before to-mor- 
 row morning, ^\'^rite a letter, Thaddeus," added he, " to 
 Lady Albina; teU her of her mother's situation; and, though 
 I never have seen the young lady, I will give it into her 
 
 B B 2
 
 372 THADDEUS OF WARSAW- 
 
 own hand ; and bring her off directly, even were it in the 
 face of her villanous father." 
 
 The pale cheeks of Sobieski were flushed with a moment- 
 ary hectic ; turning to Dr. Cavendish, he begged him, as 
 the most proper person, to write to Lady Albina, whilst he 
 walked out with his friend to order the carriage. Pembroke 
 was thanked for his zeal, but it was not by words ; they 
 are too weak vehicles to convey strong impressions ; Thad- 
 deus pressed his hand, and accompanied the action with a 
 look which spoke volumes. The withered heart of Pem- 
 broke expanded under the animating gratitude of his friend : 
 and receiving the letter, he sprung into his seat ; and until 
 he lost sight of Harrowby Hill, forgot how soon he must 
 appear to that friend the most ungrateful of men. 
 
 It was near four in the afternoon before Mr. Somerset 
 left his curricle at the little inn which skirts the village of 
 Harthorpe. He affected to make some enquiries respecting 
 the families in the neighbourhood ; and his host informed 
 him, the ladies of the Earl's family were great walkers, pass- 
 ing almost the whole of the day in the grounds. The 
 measures to be adopted were now obvious. The paling 
 belonging to Lord Tinemouth's park was only a few yards 
 distant ; but fearful of being observed, Pembroke sought 
 a more obscure part ; and, scaling a wall which was co- 
 vered by the branches of high trees, he found his way to 
 the house through an almost impassable thicket. 
 
 He watched two hours in vain for the appearance of 
 Lady Albina, whose youth and elegance, he thought, would 
 unequivocally distinguish her from the rest of the Earl's 
 household. Desponding of success, he was preparing to 
 change his station, when he heard a sound among the dry 
 leaves, and the next moment a beautiful young creature 
 passed the bush behind which he was concealed. The fine 
 symmetry of her profile assured him that she must be the 
 daughter of Lady Tinemouth. She stooped to gather a 
 china-aster : knowing that no time should be lost, Pem- 
 broke gently emerged from his recess ; but not in so quiet a 
 manner as to escape the ear of Lady Albina, who instantly 
 looking round, screamed and would have fled, had he not 
 thrown himself before her and exclaimed, " Stay, Lady
 
 THADDEU3 OF WARSAW. 373 
 
 Albina ! For Heaven's sake, stay ! I come from your 
 mother ! " 
 
 She gazed fearfully in his face, and tried to release her 
 hand, which lie had seized to prevent her flight. 
 
 " Do not be alarmed," continued he ; " no harm is in- 
 tended you. I am the son of Sir Robert Somerset ; and the 
 friend of your mother, who is now on the point of death. 
 She implores to see you this night (for she has hardly an 
 hour to live), to hear from your own lips, that you do not 
 hate her." 
 
 Lady Albina trembled dreadfully ; and with faded 
 cheeks, and quivering lips, replied, " Hate my mother! Oh, 
 no ! 1 have ever dearly loved her !" 
 
 A flood of tears prevented her speaking further ; and 
 Pembroke perceiving that he had gained her confidence, put 
 the Doctor's letter into her hand. The gentle heart of Lady 
 Albina bled at every word which her almost blinded eyes 
 perused ; turning to Pembroke, who stood contemplating 
 her lovely countenance with the deepest interest, she 
 said, " Pray, Ah-. Somerset, take me now to my mother. 
 Were she to die before I arrive, I should be miserable for 
 life. Alas ! alas ! I have never been allowed to behold 
 her ! Never been allowed to visit London, because my 
 father knew that I believed my poor mother innocent, and 
 would have seen her, had it been possible." 
 
 Lady Albina wept violently as she si)oke, and giving her 
 hand to Pembroke, timidly looked towards the house and 
 added, " You must take me this instant. We must hasten 
 away, in case we should be surprised. If Lady Sophia 
 were to know that I have been speaking with any body out 
 of the family, I should be locked up for months." 
 
 Pembroke did not require a second command from his 
 beautiful charge ; but conducting her through the unfre- 
 quented paths by which he had entered, seated her in his 
 curricle; and whipping his horses, set off, full gallop, to- 
 wards the melancholy goal of his enterprise. 
 
 B B 3
 
 S74 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 Whilst the two anxious travellers were pursuing their sad 
 journey^ the inhabitants of the Abbey were distracted with 
 apprehension that the Countess would expire before their 
 arrival. Ever since Lady Tinemouth received information 
 that Mr. Somerset was gone to the Wolds, hope and fear 
 agitated her by turns, till, wearied out with solicitude and 
 expectation, she turned her dim eyes upon Thaddeus, and 
 said, in a languid voice, " My dear friend, it must be near 
 midnight. I shall never see the morning ; I shall never 
 in this world see my child. I pray you, thank Mr. Somer- 
 set for all the trouble I have occasioned ; — and my daughter, 
 my Albina ! O Father of mercies ! " cried she, holding up 
 her clasped hands, " pour all thy blessings upon her head ! 
 she never Avilfully gave this broken heart a pang ! " 
 
 The Countess had hardly ended speaking, when Thad- 
 deus heard a bustle on the stairs ; suspecting that it might 
 be the arrival of his friend, he made a sign to Dr. Caven- 
 dish to go and enquire. His heart beat violently whilst he 
 kept his eye fixed on the door, and held the fainting pulse 
 of Lady Tinemouth in his hand. The Doctor re-entered, 
 and in a low voice whispered, " Lady Albina is here." 
 
 The words acted like magic on the fading senses of the 
 Countess ; with preternatural strength she started from her 
 pillow, and catching hold of Sobieski's arm with both hers, 
 cried, " Oh ! give her to me whilst I have life." 
 
 Lady Albina appeared, led in by Pembroke, but in- 
 stantly quitting his hand, with an agonising shriek she 
 rushed towards the bed, and flung herself into the ex- 
 tended arms of her mother. Those arms closed on her, and 
 the head of the Countess rested on her bosom. 
 
 Dr. Cavendish perceived by the struggles of the young 
 lady, that she was in convulsions; and taking her off the bed, 
 he consigned her to Pembroke and Thaddeus, who carried 
 her into another apartment : he remained to assist the 
 Countess. 
 
 Albina was removed ; but the eyes of her amiable and
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 375 
 
 injured mother were never again unclosed: she had breathed 
 her last sigh in grateful ecstasy on the bosom of her (laughter; 
 and Heaven had taken her spotless soul to itself. 
 
 Being convinced that the Countess was indeed no more, 
 the good Doctor left her remains in charge with the women; 
 and repairing to the adjoining room, found Lady Albina yet 
 senseless in the arms of his two friends. She was laid on 
 a sofa, and Cavendish was ])ouring some drops into her 
 mouth, when he descried Thaddeus gliding out of the room: 
 desirous to spare him the shock of suddenly seeing the 
 corpse of one whom he loved so truly, he said, " Stop, j\lr. 
 Constantine ! I conjure you, do not go into the Countess's 
 room I" 
 
 The eyes of Thaddeus turned with quickness on the dis- 
 tressed face of the physician ; one glance explained what 
 the Doctor durst not speak ; and hastily saying, " I shall 
 obey you," he hurried from the chamber. 
 
 In the Count's rapid descent from Lady Albina's room 
 to the breakfast parlour, he too plainly perceived by the tears 
 of the servants that he had now another sorrow to add to his 
 accumulated load. He darted from the clamorous laments 
 of these honest people into the parlour, and shutting the 
 door, threw himself on a sofa ; but rest induced thought, 
 and thought harrowed up his soul. He started from his 
 position ; he paced the room in a paroxysm of anguish ; he 
 would have given worlds for one tear to relieve his oppressed 
 heart. Ready to suffocate, he threw open a window and 
 leaned out. Not a star was visible to light the darkness ; 
 the wind blew freshly ; and with parched lips, he inhaled it 
 as the reviving breath of heaven. 
 
 He was sitting on the window-seat, with his head leaning 
 against the casement, when Pembroke entered unobserved : 
 walking up to him, he laid his hand upon his arm, and eja- 
 culated in a tremulous voice, " Thaddeus, dear Thaddeus ! " 
 
 Thaddeus rose at the well-known sounds ; they reminded 
 him that he was not yet alone in the world ; and throwing 
 himself upon the bosom of Mr. Somerset, he exclaimed, 
 " Heaven has still reserved thee, my dear Pembroke, to be 
 my comforter ! In thy friendship,' added he, wiping away 
 the tears which relieved his bursting heart, " I shall find 
 
 B B 4
 
 376' 
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 an affection, similar with those which are gone for ever : my 
 friend, my brother ! you are the last cord that binds me to 
 the world. " 
 
 Pembroke received the embrace of his friend ; he felt his 
 ttars upon his cheek ; but he could neither return the one, 
 nor sympathise with the other. The conviction, that he was 
 soon to sever that cord ; that he was to deprive the man who 
 had preserved his life, of the only stay of his existence, and 
 abandon him to despair, struck to his soul ; and grasping 
 the hand of his friend, he gazed at his averted and dejected 
 features with a look of desperate horror. " Sobieski," cried 
 he, " whatever may happen, never forget that I swear, that 
 I love you dearer than my life ! And when I am forced to 
 abandon my friend, I shall not be long of abandoning what 
 will then be worthless to me." 
 
 Not perceiving the frensied look which accompanied this 
 energetic declaration, Thaddeus gave no other meaning to 
 the words than a renewed assurance of his friend's affection. 
 
 The entrance of Dr. Cavendish disturbed the two young 
 men ; to whom he communicated the increased indisposition 
 of Lady Albina. 
 
 '' The shock she has received," said he, " has so mate- 
 rially shaken her frame, I have ordered her to bed and 
 administered an opiate, which I hope will procure her re- 
 pose: — and you, my dear sir," added he, -addressing the 
 Count, " you had better seek rest ! The stoutest constitution 
 might sink under what you have lately endured. Pray, 
 allow Mr. Somerset and myself to prevail with you, on our 
 accounts, if not on your own, to retire for half an hour!" 
 
 Thaddeus, in disregard of his personal comfort, never 
 infringed on that of others ; he felt that he could not sleep, 
 but he knew it would gratify his benevolent friends to sup- 
 pose that he did ; and accordingly he went to a room, and 
 throwing himself on a bed, lay for an hour, ruminating on 
 all that had passed. 
 
 There is an omnipresence in thought, or a celerity pro- 
 ducing nearly the same effect, which brings within the short 
 space of a few minutes the images of many foregoing years. 
 In almost the same moment, Thaddeus reflected on his 
 strange meeting with the Countess; her melancholy story; 
 her forlorn death-bed ; the fatal secret, that her vile husband
 
 THADDKUS OF WARSAW. 377 
 
 and son were his father and brother ; and that her daughter, 
 whom his warm lieart acknowledged as a sister, was with him 
 under the same roof, and, like him, the innocent inheritor 
 of her father's shame. 
 
 Whilst these multifarious and painful meditations weie 
 agitating his perturbed mind, Dr. Cavendish found repose on 
 a couch ; and Pembroke Somerset, resolving once more to 
 try the influence of entreaty on the hitherto generous spirit 
 of his father, with mingled ho]ie and despondence com- 
 menced a last attempt to shake his fatal resolution. 
 
 " To Sir Robert Somerset, Bart. 
 " Somerset Castle. 
 
 " I have not ventured into the presence of my dear father, 
 since he uttered the dreadful words, wdiich I would give my 
 existence to believe I had never heard. You denounced a 
 curse upon me, if I opposed your will to have me break all 
 connection with the man who preserved my life ! ^Fhen I 
 think on this ; when I remember, that it was from you I 
 received a command so inexplicable in yourself j so dis- 
 graceful to me ; I am almost mad : — and what I shall be, 
 should you, by repeating your injunctions, force me to obey 
 them. Heaven only knows ! but I am certain that I cannot 
 survive the loss of my honour ; I cannot survive the sacrifice 
 of all my principles of virtue; which such conduct must for 
 ever destroy. 
 
 " Oh, my father ! I conjure you, reflect, before, in com- 
 pliance with an oath it was almost guilt to make, you decree 
 youi- only son to everlasting shame and remorse ! Act how 
 I will, I shall never be happy more. I cannot live under 
 your malediction ; and should I give up my friend, my 
 conscience will reproach me every instant of my existence. 
 Can I draw the breath which he prolonged, and cease to 
 remember that I have abandoned him to want and misery ? 
 It were vain to flatter myself that he will condescend to 
 escape either, by the munificence which you offer as a com- 
 pensation for my friendship. No ; I caimot believe that his 
 sensible and independent nature is so changed ; circum- 
 stances never had any power over the nobility of his soul. 
 
 " Misfortune, which threw the Count Sobieski on the 
 bounty of England^ cannot make him appear otherwise in
 
 378 
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 my eyes than as the idol of Warsaw, whose smile was 
 honour, and whose friendship conferred distinction. 
 
 " Though deprived of the splendour of command; though 
 the eager circle of friends no longer cluster round him ; 
 tliough a stranger in this country, and without a home; 
 though in place of an equipage and retinue, he is followed 
 by calamity and neglect ; yet, in my mind, I still see him 
 in a car of triumph : I see, not only the opposer of his 
 nation's enemies, but the vanquisher of his own desires; I 
 see the heir of a princely house, who, when mankind have 
 deserted him, is yet encompassed by his virtues ; I see him, 
 though cast out from a hardened and unjust society, still 
 surrounded by the lingering spirits of those who were 
 called to better worlds ! 
 
 " And this is the man, my dear father, (whom, I am 
 sure, had he been of any other country than Poland, you 
 would have selected from all other men to be the friend and 
 example of your son,) this is he whom you command me 
 to thrust away ! 
 
 " I beseech you to examine this injunction ! I am novy 
 writing under the same roof with him : it depends on you, 
 my ever revered father, whether I am doing so for the 
 last time ; whether this is the last day in which your son is 
 to consider himself a man of honour ; whether he is hence- 
 forth to be a wretch, overwhelmed with shame and sorrow ! 
 
 " I have not yet dared to utter one word of your cruel 
 orders to my unhappy friend ; he is now retired to seek 
 some rest, after the new anguish of having witnessed the 
 almost sudden death of Lady Tinemouth. Should I have 
 to tell him that he is to lose me too — but I cannot add 
 more. Your own heart, my father, must tell you that my 
 soul is on the rack until I have an answer to this letter. 
 
 " Before I shut my paper, let me implore you on my 
 knees ! whatever you may decide, do not hate me ; do not 
 load my breaking heart with a parent's curse ! Whatever X 
 may be, however low and degraded in my own eyes, still 
 that I have sacrificed what is most precious to me, to my 
 father, will impart the only consolation which will then 
 have power to reach your dutiful son, 
 
 " r. Somerset. 
 '' Ilarrowby Mbei/,Jivc o'clock in the morning."
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 379 
 
 Dr. Cavendish reinained in a profound sleep, wliilst 
 Pembroke, with an aching lieart liaving written the above 
 letter and despatched it wilii a man and horse, tried to 
 compose himself to half an hour's forgetfulness of life and 
 its turmoils ; but he found his attempts as ineffectual as 
 those of his friend. 
 
 Thaddeus found no repose on his restless pillow. Reluc- 
 tant to disturb the Doctor and Somerset, who, he hoped, 
 having less cause for regret, were sleeping tranquilly, he 
 remained in bed, but he longed for morning. To his irri- 
 tated nerves, any change of situation seemed better than the 
 state in which he was, and with some gleams of pleasure he 
 watched the dawn, and the rising of the sun behind the 
 opposite hill. He got up, opened the window, and looking 
 out, saw a man throw himself off' a horse, which was all in 
 foam, and enter the house. 
 
 Surprised at this circumstance, he descended to the 
 parlour, where he found the man ; who being Pembroke's 
 messenger, had returned express from the Castle, bearing 
 an order from Sir Robert (who was taken alarmingly ill), 
 that his son must come back immediately. 
 
 Dismayed with this new distress, Mr. Somerset pressed 
 the Count so closely to his breast when he bade him fare- 
 well, that a more suspicious person might have apprehended 
 it was a final parting : but Thaddeus discerned nothing 
 more in the anguish of his friend's countenance, than fear 
 for the safety of Sir Robert ; and fervently wishing his 
 recovery, he bade Pembroke remember, that should more 
 assistance be necessary. Dr. Cavendish would remain at the 
 Abbey until Lady Albina's return to the ^V^olds. 
 
 ]Mr. Somerset being gone ; towards noon, when the 
 Count was anxiously awaiting the appearance of the physi- 
 cian from the room of his sister, he was surprised by the 
 abrupt entrance of two gentlemen. He rose, and bowing, 
 enquired their business ? The elder of the men, with a 
 fierce countenance and a voice of thunder, announced him- 
 self to be the Earl of Tinemouth, and the other his son. 
 
 " We are come," continued he, standing at a haughty 
 distance ; " we are come to carry from this nest of infamy 
 Lady Albina Stanhope, whom some one of her mother's
 
 S80 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 paramours, — perhaps you, sir, — dared to steal from her 
 father's house yesterday evening. And I am come, to give 
 you that chastisement which your audacity deserves." 
 
 With difficuky the Count Sobieski suppressed the pas- 
 sions which were rising in his breast. He turned a scorn- 
 ful glance on the person of Lord Harwold (who, with an 
 air of insufferable derision, was coolly measuring his figure 
 through an eye-glass) ; and then replying to the Earl, said, 
 in a firm voice, " My Lord, whoever you suppose me to 
 be, it matters not ; I now stand in the place of Lady Tine- 
 mouth's executor ; and to my last gasp, I will prove myself 
 the defender of her injured name." 
 
 '^ Her lover!" interrupted Lord Harwold, turning on 
 his heel. 
 
 " Her defender, sir ! " repeated Thaddeus with a tre- 
 mendous frown ; " and shame and sorrow will pursue that 
 son, who requires a stranger to supply his duty." 
 
 " Wretch ! " cried the Earl, forgetting his assumed lof- 
 tiness, and advancing passionately towards Thaddeus with 
 his stick held up ; how dare you address such language to 
 an English nobleman } " 
 
 " By the right of Nature, which holds her laws over all 
 mankind," returned he, calmly looking on the raised stick. 
 " When an English nobleman forgets that he is a son, he 
 deserves reproach from his meanest vassal." 
 
 " You see, my Lord," cried Harwold, sliding behind 
 his father, " what we bring on ourselves by harbouring 
 these democratic foreigners ! Sir," added he, addressing 
 himself to Thaddeus, " your dangerous principles shall be 
 communicated to the alien-office ! Such traitors ought to be 
 hanged." 
 
 Sobieski eyed the enraged little Lord with contempt; 
 and turning to the Earl, who was again going to speak, he 
 said in an unaltered tone, " 1 cannot guess. Lord Tine- 
 mouth, what is the reason of this attack on me. I came 
 hither by accident ; I found the Countess ill ; and, from 
 respect to her excellent qualities, I remained with her until 
 her eyes were closed for ever. She desired to see her 
 daughter before she died. What human heart could deny
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 381 
 
 a mother such a request ? and my friend Pembroke So- 
 merset undertook to bring Lady All)ina to the Abbey." 
 
 '' Pembroke Somerset!" echoed the Earh " A pretty 
 guard for my daughter, truly ! I have no doubt that he is 
 just such a fellow as his father ; just such a person as your- 
 self ! I am not to be imposed on : 1 know Lady Tinemouth 
 to have been a disgrace to me ; and you to be that German 
 adventurer on whose account I sent her from London." 
 
 Surprised at this calumny on the memory of a woman, 
 whose fame from any other mouth came as unsullied as 
 purity itself, Thaddeus gazed with horror at the furious 
 countenance of the man whom he believed to be his father. 
 His heart swelled : but not deigning to reply to a charge as 
 unmanly as it was false, he calmly took out of his pocket 
 the two letters which the Countess had dictated to her hus- 
 band and her son. 
 
 Lord Harwold tore his open, cast his eyes over the first 
 words, then crumpling it in his hand, threw it from him, 
 exclaiming, " I am not to be frightened, either by her arts, 
 or the falsehoods of the fellows with whom she dishonoxired 
 her name." 
 
 Thaddeus, no longer master of himself, sprung towards 
 this unnatural son, and seizing his arm with the strength of 
 a Hercules, "Lord Harwold!" cried he, in a dreadful 
 voice, " were it not that I have some mercy on you for 
 that parent's sake, to whom, like a parricide, you are giving 
 a second death by such murderous slander, I would resent 
 her \vrongs at the hazard of your worthless Ufe ! " 
 
 " My Lord! my Lord!" cried the trembling Harwold, 
 quaking under the gripe of Thaddeus, and shrinking from 
 the terrible brightness of his eyes ; " My Lord ! ]\Iy Lord, 
 save me ! " 
 
 The Earl, almost sufiPocated with rage, called out, 
 *' Ruffian ! let go my son ! " and again raising his arm, 
 aimed a blow at the head of Thaddeus, who wrenching the 
 stick out of the foaming Lord's hand, snapped it in two, 
 and threw the pieces out of the window. 
 
 Lord Harwold took this opportunity to ring the bell 
 violently ; on which summons two of his servants entered 
 the room.
 
 382 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " Now^ you low-born, insolent scoundrel/' cried the dis- 
 armed Earl, stamping with his feet, and pointing to the 
 men who stood at the door ; " you shall be turned by the 
 neck and heels out of this house. Richard, James, collar 
 the fellow instantly." 
 
 Thaddeus only extended his arm to the men (who were 
 looking confusedly on each other), and calmly said, " If 
 either of you attempt to obey this command of your Lord, 
 you shall have cause to repent it." 
 
 The men retreated. The Earl repeated his orders. 
 
 " Rascals ! do as I command you, or instantly quit my 
 service. I will teach you," added he, clenching his fist at 
 the Count, who stood resolutely and serenely before him, 
 " I will teach you how to behave to a man of high birth." 
 
 The footmen were again deterred from approaching by a 
 glance from the intimidating eyes of Thaddeus ; who, 
 turning with stern dignity to the storming Earl, " You can 
 teach me nothing about high birth," said he, " that I do 
 not already know. Could it be of any independent benefit 
 to a man, then had I not received the taunts and insults 
 which you have dared to cast upon me." 
 
 At that moment. Dr. Cavendish having heard a bustle, 
 made his appearance. Amazed at the sight of two stran- 
 gers, who, from their enraged countenances and the proud 
 elevation with which Thaddeus was standing between them, 
 he rightly judged to be the Earl and his son ; he advanced 
 towards his friend, intentUng to support him in the attack, 
 which he saw was menaced by the violent gestures of his 
 visiters. 
 
 '' Dr. Cavendish," said Thaddeus, speaking to him as he 
 approached, " your name must be a passport to the confi- 
 dence of any man ; I therefore sliall gratify the husband of 
 my ever-lamented friend by quitting this house; but I 
 delegate to you the office with which she intrusted me. I 
 leave you in charge of her sacred remains ; and of the 
 jewels, which you will find in her apartment. She desired 
 that half of them might be given, with her blessing, to her 
 daughter ; and the other half, with her pardon, to her 
 son." 
 
 *■' Tell me. Dr. Cavendish," cried the Earl, as Thaddeus
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 3S3 
 
 was passing him to leave the room ; " Avho is that insolent 
 fellow? By Heaven, he shall smart for this !" 
 
 " Ay, that he shall," added Lord liarwold, " if I have 
 any interest with government." 
 
 Dr. Cavendish was preparing to speak, when Thaddeus, 
 turning round, at this last threat of the Viscount's, said, 
 " If 1 did not know myself to be as high above Lord Ilar- 
 wold, as heaven is above the earth, perhaps he might pro- 
 voke me to treat him as he merits ; but I spurn such 
 resentment, as I despise him. For you, my Lord," added 
 he, addressing the Earl with an agitated countenance, 
 " there is an angel in heaven, who pleads against the insults 
 you have obstinately heaped upon an innocent man." 
 
 Thaddeus disappeared as he uttered the last word ; and, 
 hastening from the house and park, stopped at a farmer's 
 cottage near the brow of the hill. The owners of this 
 humble little place being the i)arents of one of Lady Tine- 
 mouth's maids, gladly welcomed the so highly praised Mr. 
 Constantine ; and offered him the command of their house, 
 until lie might find it convenient to quit the neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 Any prospect of repose promised elysium to him : with 
 harassed and torn nerves he took possession of an apartment 
 which looked down upon the road that led from the Abbey 
 to the town. The rapidity of the late events bewildered 
 his senses, like the illusions of a dream. He had seen his 
 father, his brother, his sister ; and most probably he had 
 parted from them for ever ! At least, he hoped, that he 
 should never again be tortured with the sight of Lord 
 Tinemouth or his son. 
 
 " How !" thought he, whilst he walked up and down his 
 solitary apartment, how could the noble nature of my mo- 
 tlier love such a man ? And how could he have held so 
 long an empire over the pure heart of the Countess ?" 
 
 Over and over again he asked himself the question, but 
 could return no answer. He could no where discern in the 
 bloated visage, and passionate gestures of the Earl, any of 
 that beauty of countenance, or grace of manners, which had 
 ahke charmed Therese Sobieski, and the tender Adeliza. 
 Like those hideous chasms, which are dug deep in the land
 
 384 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 by the impetuous sweep of a torrent, — the course of violent 
 passions leaves vast and irreparable traces in the soul and on 
 the features. So it was with Lord Tinemouth. 
 
 " How legibly does vice or virtue," ejaculated Thaddeus, 
 " write itself on the countenance ! The Earl's figure and 
 face may have been fine, but the hneaments of profligacy 
 have now degraded every part of him. Good God ! can he 
 be my father } Can it be his blood that is now running in 
 my veins ? Can it be his blood, that rises at this moment, 
 with detestation against him } " 
 
 Before the sun set, Thaddeus was aroused from these 
 painful soliloquies by still more painful emotions : he saw 
 from his window a hearse driving at full gallop up the road 
 which ascended to the Abbey ; and presently return with a 
 more solemn pace, followed by a postchaise and the Earl's 
 coach. 
 
 " Inhuman wretches ! " cried Thaddeus, leaning out of 
 the window ; and pursuing with his eye the tips of the 
 sable plumes, as the cavalcade wound round the road ; 
 " could you not allow this poor corse a little rest .-^ Must 
 her injuries be extended to the grave .f" Must her cold relics 
 be insulted, be hurried to the tomb, without reverence, with- 
 out decency ? " 
 
 The noble heart of Thaddeus was convulsed with hor- 
 ror, at this climax of the Earl's barbarity. Dr. Cavendish 
 entered : he spoke of the perpetrators of an act which he 
 deemed sacrilege against the dead ; but Thaddeus could 
 not bear the subject ; and he interrupted him by enquiring 
 how Lady Albina had borne the removal of her mother's 
 remains. 
 
 " Very ill," returned the Doctor ; " and though I warned 
 the Earl, that to compel her Ladyship to follow the hearse 
 would be at the peril of her life, yet he would not be soft- 
 ened. He put her into the coach in a state of insensibility ; 
 and then, loaded with the secret curses of every honest 
 heart, I saw him set off in a postchaise, which was already 
 occupied by his detestable son. Heaven's malediction must 
 follow them !" 
 
 The Doctor pursued the subject. Sobieski's wearied 
 spirits heard him with patience ; for nothing could now be
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 385 
 
 said to increase an abhorrence which had reached its lieight. 
 He acknowledged to himself, that he hated the Earl ; and 
 in gloomy silence he listened to the new crimes recounted 
 by his friend. 
 
 In the midst of this depressing conversation a courier 
 arrived from Dr. Cavendish's Stamford patient, desiring that 
 he would return immediately, the gentleman having suf- 
 fered a relapse. Cavendish, with some reluctance to quit the 
 Count (whom he still knew by no other name than Con- 
 stantino), ordered the chaise to the door. He shook hands 
 with Thaddeus; requested he would let him hear from him; 
 and bidding him many affectionate adieus, looked out of 
 the carriage-window until the faint light of the moon, and 
 the receding ghmmer of the cottage-candles, failed to 
 make the little spot which contained his friend even dis- 
 cernible. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 For the first time during many nights, Thaddeus slept 
 soundly ; but his dreams were disturbed ; and he awoke 
 from them at an early hour, unrefreshed and in much 
 fever. 
 
 The simple breakfast which his cottage host and hostess 
 set before him was hardly touched. Their nicely drest 
 dinner met with the same fate. He was ill, and possessed 
 neither appetite nor spirits to eat. The good people being 
 too civil to intrude upon him, he sat alone in his window 
 from eight o'clock (at which hour he had arisen), until the 
 cawing of the rooks, as they returned to the Abbey woods, 
 reminded him of the approach of evening. He was uneasy 
 at the absence of Somerset ; not so much on his own ac- 
 count, as on that of Sir Robert, whose increased danger 
 might have occasioned this delay : however, he hoped other- 
 wise. Longing earnestly for a temporary asylum under 
 the roof of his friend, he trusted that the sympathy of 
 Pembroke would heal all his wounds, and fit him (if it 
 were required) yet farther to brave the buffets of adverse 
 c c
 
 386 
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 fortune. Nor was Miss Beaufort forgotten. If ever one 
 idea more than another sweetened the bitterness of his re- 
 flections, it was the remembrance of the lovely Alary. 
 Whenever her image rose before him ; whether he was 
 standing with folded arms, and looking with vacant gaze 
 on the valley beneath ; or when cast upon his watchful 
 pillow, he opened his aching eyes to the morning light ; 
 still, as her beautiful figure presented itself to his mind, he 
 sighed ; but it was a sigh laden with balm ; it did not tear 
 his breast like those which were wrung from him by the 
 hard hand of calamity and insult ; it was the soft breath of 
 love, which makes man dream of heaven, whilst it betrays 
 him to the grave. Thaddeus thought it delightful to re- 
 collect how she had looked on him ; it was happiness, to 
 know that he owed his liberty to her ; and the anticipation 
 that he should again dwell in her smiles, again draw bliss 
 from her eyes, swelled, agitated, and intoxicated his soul. 
 
 " Sweet Mary," murmured he, " I shall see thee once 
 more ! I shall again experience thy kindness ! I will thank 
 thee with my heart ; and think myself blest, in being al- 
 lowed the privilege of loving thee in silence, and for ever." 
 
 The sight of Pembroke riding through the farmer's 
 fields towards the cottage, agreeably recalled the wandering 
 mind of Sobieski. He went out to meet him ; Mr. Somer- 
 set, putting his horse on a gallop, was at his friend's side, 
 and had alighted before he could cross the first meadow. 
 Thaddeus enquired after the Baronet's health. Pembroke 
 answered the question with an incoherency, devoid of all 
 meaning. Thaddeus looked at him with surprise. They 
 walked towards the house, but he did not seem to recover 
 himself; his absence of mind, and the wild rambling of his 
 eyes whenever he was spoken to, were so striking, the 
 Count entertained no doubt of some dreadful accident. 
 
 As soon as they entered the little parlour, Pembroke 
 threw himself into a chair, and throwing of his hat, wiped 
 away the perspiration which, though a cold October evening, 
 was streaming down his forehead. Thaddeus endured a 
 suspense almost too painful to be borne. 
 
 " What is the matter, dear Pembroke .'^ Is Miss Beau- 
 fort well ?"
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WAllSAW. '>87 
 
 " Perfectly," returned he : " Every body is well, except- 
 ing myself and my father, who, I verily believe, has lost his 
 senses ; at any rate he will drive me mad." 
 
 The manner in which this reply was uttered astonished 
 Thaddeus so much, that he could only gaze with wonder on 
 the convulsed features of his friend. Pembroke observed his 
 amazement, and laying his hand on his arm, " My dear, 
 dear Sobieski ! "' said he, " what do I not owe to you } 
 Good Heaven, how humbled am I in your sight! But 
 there is a Power above, who knows how intimately you are 
 woven with every artery of this heart." 
 
 " I beliese it, my kind Pembroke," cried Thaddeus, yet 
 more alarmed than before : " tell me what it is that dis- 
 tresses you .'' If my counsel, or my sympathy, can offer any 
 thing to comfort or assist you, you know I am your own." 
 Pembroke burst into tears, and covering his streaming 
 eyes with his handkerchief, exclaimed, " I am indeed dis- 
 tressed ; distressed even beyond your comfort. Oh ! how 
 can I speak it ! You Avill despise my father, Thaddeus ! 
 You will spurn me \" 
 
 " Impossible," ciicd he, with energy; though his flushed 
 cheek and fainting heart immediately declared that he had 
 anticipated what he must hear. 
 
 " I see," cried Pembroke, regarding the altered features 
 of his friend with a glance of agony ; " I see, that you 
 think it is possible, that my father can sink me below my 
 own contempt." 
 
 The benumbing touch of ingratitude ran through the 
 veins of Thaddeus ; his frame was chilled, was petrified : 
 but his just affection and calmed countenance ju'oclaimed. 
 how true a judgment he had passed on the whole. He 
 took the burning hand of Mr. Somerset in his own hand, 
 and with a steady and consoling voice, said, " Assure your- 
 self, dear Pembroke, whatever be the commands of your 
 father, I shall adhere to them. I can understand by these 
 generous emotions, that he objects to receive me as your 
 friend. Perhaps," added he, a flash of suspicion gleaming 
 through his mind ; " perhaps Miss Beaufort may have 
 perceived the devotedness of my heart, and disdaining 
 
 my " 
 
 c c 2
 
 388 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " Hush, for Heaven's sake ! " cried Pembroke, starting 
 from his chair ; " do not implicate my poor cousin ! Do 
 not add to her disappointment, the misery that you suspect 
 her ! No, Thaddeus," continued he, in a calmer tone, 
 " Mary Beaufort loves you : she confessed it in an agony 
 of grief on my bosom, just before I came away ; and only 
 through her, I dare ever expect to meet forgiveness from you. 
 In spite of my father, you may marry her. She has no 
 curse to dread ; she need not sacrifice all that is most pre- 
 cious in her sight, to the obstinate caprice of criminal re- 
 sentment." 
 
 " A curse !" reiterated Thadtleus. " How is this ! what 
 have I done to deserve such hatred from your father ? " 
 
 " Oh ! nothing," cried Pembroke, " nothing. My father 
 never saw you. My father thanks you for all that you 
 have done for me ; but it is your country that he hates. 
 Some Polander, years back, injured him ; and my father 
 took a fatal oath against the whole nation. He declares 
 that he cannot, he will not, break it, were he by so doing to 
 save his own life, or even mine ; for, (Heaven forgive me !) 
 I was this morning wrought up to such frensy, that I 
 threatened to destroy myself rather than sacrifice my grati- 
 tude and honour to his cruel commands ! Nay, to convince 
 you that his is no personal enmity to yourself, he ordered 
 me to give you writings which will put you in possession 
 of five hundred a year for ever. I have them with me." 
 
 All the pride of his princely house rose at once in the 
 breast of Thaddeus. Though full of indignation at this in- 
 sult of Sir Robert's, he regarded the averted face of his 
 friend with compassion, whilst in a firm voice he rejected 
 the degrading compromise. 
 
 " Tell your father," added he, addressing Pembroke in 
 a tone, which even his affection could not soften from a 
 command, " that my absence is not to be bought with 
 money, nor my friendship so rewarded." 
 
 Pembroke covered his burning face with his hands. This 
 sight at once brought down the haughty spirit of the 
 Count, who continued in gentler accents ; " Whatever be 
 the sentiments of Sir Robert Somerset, they shall meet with 
 due attention from me. He is your father, therefore I re-
 
 THAnDEUS OP WARSAW. 389 
 
 spect him ; but he has put it out of his power to oblige 
 me : I cannot accept his bounty. Though your heart, 
 my dearest Pembroke, is above all price, yet I will make 
 it a sacrifice to your duty." — And by so doing, put the last 
 seal on my misfortunes! was the meaning of the heavy sigh 
 which accompanied his last words. 
 
 Pembroke traversed the room in an agony. " Merciful 
 Providence !" cried he, wringing his clasped hands, " di- 
 rect me ! O Thaddeus, if you could read my tortured 
 heart, you would pity me ; youwould see that this affair is 
 tearing my soul from my body. A\"hat am I to do ? I 
 cannot, I will not, part with you for ever." 
 
 The Count went up to him, and drew him to a seat : — 
 " Be satisfied," said he, " that I am convinced of your 
 affection. ^V^hatever may happen, this assurance will be 
 sufficient to give me comfort ; therefore, by that affection, 
 I entreat you, dear Pembroke, not to bring regret to me 
 and reproach on yourself, by disobeying the will of your 
 father ! If we separate for life, remember, my beloved 
 friend, that the span of our existence here is short ; we shall 
 meet again in a happier world ; perhaps more blest, for 
 having immolated our wishes to hard duty in this." 
 
 " Cease, Sobieski, cease ! ' cried Pembroke : " I can 
 draw no consolation from this reasoning. It is not duty to 
 obey a hatred httle short of distraction ; and if we now 
 separate, I feel that I shall never know peace again. Good 
 Heaven ! what comfort can I find, when you are exposed 
 to all the indignities which the world levels against the un- 
 fortunate ? Can I indulge in the luxuries of my father's 
 house, when I know that you have neither a home nor 
 subsistence .'' No, Thaddeus, I am not such a villain. 1 
 will not give you up, though my father should load me 
 with curses ; — I trust there is a just Power above who 
 would avert them." 
 
 Perceiving that argument would not only be fruitless, 
 but might probably incense his friends irritated nature to 
 the commission of some rash action. Thaddeus pretended to 
 overlook the frantic gesture and voice which terminated 
 this speech ; and assuming a serene air, replied — " Let this 
 be the subject of future conversation. At present I must 
 cc 3
 
 SQO TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 conjure you, by the happiness of us both, to return to the 
 Castle. You know my message to Sir Robert. Present 
 my respects to your aunt ; and," added he, after a pause, 
 " assure jVIiss Beaufort, that whilst I have life, her good- 
 ness will be its most animating principle." 
 
 Pembroke interrupted him. " Why these messages, 
 dear Thaddeus ? Do not suppose, though I fulfil my 
 father's order to return to Somerset to-night, that it is our 
 separation. Gracious Heaven ! Is it so easy to part for 
 ever ? " 
 
 " Not for ever ! Oh, no," replied Thaddeus, grasping his 
 hand ; " we shall see each other again ; only, meanwhile, 
 repeat those messages to your aunt and cousin. Go, my 
 dear Pembroke, to your father ; and may the Lord of 
 Heaven bless you ! " 
 
 The last words were spoken in almost a stifled voice, as 
 he opened his arms and strained his friend to his breast. 
 
 " I shall see you to-morrow," cried Pembroke; " on no 
 other condition I leave you now." 
 
 Thaddeus made no farther answer to this demand (which 
 he determined should never be granted), than a second em- 
 brace. Pembroke went out of the room to order his 
 horses ; then returning, he stood at the door, and holding 
 out his hand to the Count, said, " Farewell till to-morrow." 
 Thaddeus shook it warmly, and he disappeared. 
 
 The outward gate closed after his friend, but the Count 
 remained on the seat into which he had thrown himself. 
 He did not venture to move, lest he should by chance catch 
 a second glance of Pembroke from the window. Now that 
 he was gone, he acknowledged the full worth of what he 
 had relinquished. He had resigned a man who loved him ; 
 one who had known and revered his ever-lamented grand- 
 father and his mother ; the only one with whom he could 
 have discoursed of their virtues ! He had severed the link, 
 which united his present state with his former fortunes ! 
 and throwing his arms along a table that stood near him, 
 he leaned his aching head upon them, and in idea followed 
 with a bleeding heart the progress and reception of his 
 friend at the Castle. 
 
 The racking misery which tortured the mind of Mr.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 391 
 
 Somerset was not borne witli equal resignation. Conscious 
 of his having inflicted fresii wounds on the breast of his 
 noble friend, his spirits were so ill adapted to society, that 
 he was pleased ratiier than disappointed when he found the 
 supper-room at the Castle quite vacant, and only one cover 
 on the table awaiting his arrival. 
 
 He asked a few questions of the servants, who informed 
 him it was past twelve o'clock ; and that Sir Robert, who 
 was worse, had retired to bed early in the evening. 
 
 '^'^ And where are my aunt and cousin.''" demanded 
 Pembroke. 
 
 One of the men replied, that in consequence of Miss 
 Beaufort's having been suddenly indisposed, both the ladies 
 left the room before eleven. Pembroke readily guessed the 
 cause of this disorder : he too truly ascribed it to Mary's 
 anxiety respecting the reception which the Count Sobieski 
 would give to his disgraceful errand ; and sighing bitterly^ 
 he said no more, but went to his chamber. 
 
 The restless state of his mind awoke Mr. Somerset by 
 times. Anxious for the success of an application which he 
 intended to make to Miss Beaufort, he traversed the terrace 
 for an hour before he was summoned to breakfast. The 
 Baronet continuing unwell, the ladies only were in the 
 parlour when he entered. Mrs. Dorothy, who had learnt 
 the particulars of the late events from her niece, longed to 
 ask Pembroke how his friend would act on her brother's 
 command ; but every time she moved her lips, his inflamed 
 eye and wan countenance made her stop, and fear to ven- 
 ture on the subject. Mary sat in mute dejection, watching 
 the agitation of her cousin ; and when he rose to leave the 
 room, she looked wistfully towards him. Pembroke turned 
 at the same moment, and holding out his hand to her, 
 " Come, Mary," said he, " I want to say something to 
 you. Will you walk with me on the terrace ? " 
 
 With trepidation and a beating heart Miss Beaufort took 
 his arm, and proceeded in silence until they reached the 
 gravel-walk. A mutual and deep-drawn sigh was the first 
 opening of a conversation on which the souls of both hung 
 with interest, hope, and dread. Pembroke was the first 
 who spoke. 
 
 c c 4
 
 392 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " My dear, dear Mary," said he, " you are now my sole 
 dependence. From what I told you yesterday of my 
 father's inflexibility, we can have no hope of his relenting : 
 indeed, after what has passed, I could not flatter myself 
 that Thaddeus Sobieski would now submit to an obhgation 
 at his hands. Already he has refused, with all the indig- 
 nation I expected, Sir Robert's offer of an annuity. My 
 dear cousin, how can I exist and yet witness this noble 
 friend in distress, and living without the succour of my 
 friendship ? Heaven knows, this must be the case ; for I 
 would sooner perish than venture to insult the man my 
 father has treated so iU, with any pecuniary offers from me ! 
 Therefore, dear girl, it is on you alone that I depend. 
 Thaddeus adores you, and you love him. INIarry him, my 
 beloved cousin," cried Pembroke, pressing her hand to his 
 lips, " and relieve my heart from a load of misery ! Be 
 generous, my sweet Mary," added he, supporting her now 
 trembling frame against his breast ; " act up to your noble 
 nature, and offer him, by me, that hand, which his calami- 
 ties and disinterestedness preclude him from requesting." 
 
 Miss Beaufort, hardly able to articulate, replied, " I 
 would give him all that I possess, could it purchase him 
 one tranquil hour : I would serve him for ever, could I do 
 it and be unknown ; but " 
 
 " O, do not hesitate ! Do not doubt ! " interrupted 
 Pembroke. " To serve your friends, I know you are ca- 
 pable of the most extraordinary exertions ; I know there 
 is nothing within the verge of possibility, that your gener- 
 ous disposition would not attempt : then, my beloved 
 Mary, dare to be what you are, by having the magnanimity 
 to act as you know you ought ; by offering your hand to 
 him, show the noble Sobieski that you really deserve the 
 devotion of a hero's heart." 
 
 " Dear Pembroke," replied Miss Beaufort, wiping the 
 still gliding tears from her burning cheek, " after the con- 
 fession which you drew from me yesterday, I will not deny, 
 that to possess the esteem of your friend would render me 
 the happiest of created beings ; but I cannot believe what 
 your sanguine affection tells me. I cannot suppose, si- 
 tuated as I was at Lady Dundas's, under a cloud of fashion.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. HQS 
 
 and surrounded by frivolous and contemptible society, that 
 he should discover any thing in me to respect : every way 
 embarrassed as I was, disliking my companions, afraid of 
 my own interest in him, a veil was drawn over my mind 
 through which he coukl neither judge of my good nor bad 
 qualities. How then can I flatter myself, or do the Count 
 Sobieski so great an injury, as to imagine he could conceive 
 any preference for such an insignificant character as I must 
 have appeared ? " 
 
 It was some time before Pembroke could shake the hold 
 which this prepossession had taken of IMiss Beaufort's 
 mind. After having set, in every possible light, the 
 terms with which his friend had spoken of her, he at length 
 convinced her of what her heart so earnestly wished to 
 believe, that she was not entirely indifferent to Sobieski. 
 
 Mr. Somerset's next achievement was to overcome her 
 scruples against commissioning him with the message he 
 was desirous to communicate to Thaddeus From the 
 continual recurrence of her fears, that the warmth of her 
 cousin might have too highly coloured the first object of 
 debate, this task was not more easy to accomplish than the 
 former. In vain she remonstrated, in vain she doubted, in 
 vain demurred ; Pembroke would not be denied ; and as 
 with faltering lips she assented to the permission which he 
 almost extorted, she threw her arms round his neck, and 
 implored him to be careful of her honour ; to remember, 
 that she put into his charge all that was most precious to 
 her, — the modesty of her sex, and her own delicacy. 
 
 Delighted at this consent, notwithstanding he received 
 it through the medium of many tears, he embraced his 
 cousin with ten thousand animating promises of future 
 happiness ; and having allowed her to enter the house, 
 mounted his horse, and set off on the spur towards Har- 
 rowby Hill.
 
 SQ-i THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 When Thaddeus recovered from the reverie into which he 
 fell on the departure of Mr. Somerset, he considered how 
 he might remove out of a country in which he had only 
 met and occasioned distress. 
 
 The horrid price that Pembroke's father had set on the 
 continuance of his son's friendship with Tiiaddeus, ren- 
 dered it necessary that the latter's flight should be imme- 
 diate. Averse to a second interview with his friend, 
 which could only produce them new pangs, he determined 
 that not another morn should rise upon him in Lincoln- 
 shire ; and taking a pen, with all the future loneliness of 
 his fate painted on his heart, he wrote two letters. 
 
 One he addressed to Mr. Somerset, bidding him that 
 farewell which, he confessed, he could never take. As he 
 wrote, his hand trembled, his bosom swelled ; and he has- 
 tily shut his eye-lids, to withhold his tears from showing 
 themselves on the paper : his emotion, his grief, were 
 driven back, were concealed ; but the tenderness of his 
 soul flowed over the letter. He forgave Pembroke's father 
 for Pembroke's sake ; and in spite of their personal dis- 
 union, he vowed that no earthly power should restrain his 
 love from following the steps of his friend, even into the 
 regions of eternity. He closed his melancholy epistle with 
 informing Mr. Somerset that, as he should quit England 
 directly, any search after him, which his generous nature 
 might dictate, would be in vain. 
 
 Though Thaddeus Sobieski would have disdained a life 
 of dependence on the greatest potentate of the world ; 
 though he rejected with the same sincerity a similar pro- 
 posal from his friend ; and despised the degrading ofi^er of 
 Sir Robert ; yet he did not disparage his dignity, nor in- 
 fringe on the disinterested nature of friendship, when he ac- 
 cepted, and resolved to retain, the money which Pembroke 
 had conveyed to him in prison. Thaddeus never acted but 
 from principle. His honourable and penetrating mind
 
 THADDEfS OF WARSAW. 39^ 
 
 knew exactly at what point to draw the tcn(ler thread of 
 delicacy. Pride and independence were with him distinct 
 terms. Receiving assistance from a friend, and leaning on 
 him wholly for support, have different meanings : he 
 accepted the first with gratitude ; he would have thought it 
 impossible to live and endure the last. On these premises, 
 Pembroke was never pained by an attempt to return his 
 bounty. Indeed Thaddeus would have considered himself 
 unworthy to confer a benefit, if he had not known how to 
 receive one. This spirit left no part of Miss lieaufort's 
 obligation on his mind, but its sweetness ; and with these 
 impressions, and a throbbing heart, he began a short 
 address to her. 
 
 " To Miss Beaufort. 
 " My faculties lose their power, when I take up my pen 
 to address, for the first and the last time, >\Iiss Beaufort. 
 1 hardly know what I would say — what I ought to say ; I 
 dare not venture to write all tliat I feel. But have you 
 not been my benefactress ? Did you not assert my cha- 
 racter, and give me liberty, •when I was calumniated and 
 in distress ? Did you not ward from me the scorn of un- 
 pitying folly ? Did you not console me with your own 
 compassion ? You have done all this ; and surely you will 
 not despise the gratitude of a heart, which you have con- 
 descended to soothe and to comfort ? At least, I cannot 
 leave England for ever, without imploring blessings on the 
 head of Miss Beaufort ; without thanking her on my knees, 
 on which I am writing, for that gracious and benign spirit, 
 which discovered a breaking heart under the mask of se- 
 renity ; which penetrated through the garb of poverty and 
 dependence, and saw that the contemned Constantine was 
 not what he seemed ! Your smiles. Miss Beaufort, your 
 voice speaking commiseration, were my sweetest consolations 
 during those heavy months of sorrow which I endured at 
 Dundas House : I contemplated you as a pitying angel, 
 sent to reconcile me to a life which had already become a 
 burden. These are the benefits which ]\Iiss Beaufort has 
 bestowed on a friendless exile ; these are the benefits which 
 she has bestowed on me ! and they are written on my soul.
 
 396 
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 Not until I go down into the grave shall they be forgotten. 
 Oh ! not even then^ for when I rise again I shaU find 
 them still registered there ! 
 
 " Farewell, most respected, most dear Miss Beaufort. 
 May the Father of Heaven bless, with his choicest care, 
 her, whose name shall ever be first, in the prayers of her 
 most grateful, most devoted servant, 
 
 " Thaddeus Constantine Count Sobieski. 
 
 " Harrou'hy Hill, eleven o'clock at night." 
 
 When he finished this epistle, with a trembling hand he 
 enclosed it in the cover which contained Somerset's ; then 
 writing a few lines to the good old farmer his host, he 
 begged him to accept the gold which they contained as a 
 small compensation for his great hospitality ; and having 
 sealed both packets, he disposed them so on the table that 
 they might be the first things seen on entering the room. 
 
 It being now midnight, he thought it the best time to 
 set out unobserved on his journey. Having tied some linen 
 in a grey silk handkerchief (which had been wrapped 
 round his neck by Lady Sara one wet evening in Grosvenor 
 Place), he put all his remaining money into his pocket. 
 It did not exceed thirty pounds ; the rest having been ex- 
 pended in his way to the Abbey, and in defraying little 
 expenses attending the illness of the Countess, to which her 
 purse (ever kept low by the tardiness of the Earl's pay- 
 ments) was not prepared to answer. However, as he de- 
 termined to walk to London, where he intended to embark 
 for America, he hoped that his little store would at least 
 hold out until he had landed on a shore, whence he 
 trusted never to return. 
 
 " Ah ! " cried he, as he gently closed the window by 
 which he leaped into the garden, " Austria ! ungrateful 
 leader in the destruction of the country which, more than 
 once, was thy preserver ! And thou, Russia, who embraced 
 our monarch as a friend, and then betrayed him ! What 
 accumulated sins will be heaped on your heads ? Every 
 hasty sigh that rebels in my breast against the Almighty 
 hand which again drives me out a wanderer on the wide 
 world, calls vengeance upon you ! How many, ruthless
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 397 
 
 empires!" added he, resting on the bar of the outward 
 gate ; " how many have ye ihiven from their homes ! how 
 many have ye made vagabonds and murderers, for that 
 scanty pittance, of whicli, with remorseless and wanton 
 gripe, they were deprived by you ! — Oh, righteous Power 
 of Justice and of Mercy!" cried he, stretching his arms 
 towards the heavens, over which the piercing winds of a 
 bleak October night were scattering the thick and gloomy 
 clouds, " grant me fortitude to bear' with resignation to 
 thy will, the miseries I have yet to encounter. Oh !" 
 added he, his heart melting as the idea presented itself, 
 " teach me to forget what I have been ! Teach me to for- 
 get that on this dreadful night, last year, I clasped the 
 dying body of my dear grandfather in these arms ! " 
 
 He could not speak farther ; but leaning his pale face 
 against the gate, remained for a few minutes dissolved in 
 painful recollection : then recovering himself by a sudden 
 start, he proceeded with hasty steps through the different 
 meadows until they conducted him into the high road.* 
 
 It 'was on the tenth of October, IHQ^, that the Count 
 Sobieski commenced this lonely and melancholy journey. It 
 was on the tenth of October, 1 7f)4', that he found the Palatine 
 bleeding to death, in the midst of a heap of slain. The 
 coincidence of his present sufferings, with those of a twelve- 
 month before, powerfully affected Thaddeus: they recalled 
 remembrances to him, in their most vivid colours, which 
 time and the many intermediate events had considerably 
 softened. 
 
 * A recent Review, while remarking on Monsieur de Salvandy's History of 
 Poland, and his account of the reign of Sobieski, observes, that " the campaign 
 of Vienna has ever been reckoned amongst this king's most glorious achieve- 
 ments ; and of that memorable event, the pages al' T/ie Vniled Service Journal 
 have presented tlie most faithful and complete narrative on record." The nar- 
 rative alluded to was written by Count Orchowski, a brave inlieritor of Polish 
 memories, who sent it to England in MS., about the year 1815, to a friend, 
 with the author's request to have it published there, and, if possible, to obtain 
 the jicn of one of three British writers, whom he mentioned, to give it an 
 English translation. The author of Thaddeus of Warsaw had the honour 
 to be one of these; but the original MS. being lost for twelve years after its 
 arrival in England, she never even heard of it till about two years ago, when 
 a train of somewhat strange and romantic circumstances rescued it from 
 oblivion, and brought it, with the Count Orchowski's request, to her. The in. 
 teresting correspondence between the Count and the friend who found the lost 
 manuscript is attached to the translation of " The Narrative of the Siege of 
 'Vienna" vby the author of Thaddeus of Warsaw", and published in The United 
 Service .hnuiui! of l.^'.'u. That narrative fully explains the accusation of Thad- 
 deus Sobieski against Austria's ingratitude to the sons of the brave Poles, who, 
 in the year 1()8.>, had liberated her from the impending Turkish yoke, and half 
 continental Christendom with her.
 
 SyS THAUDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 Distressed by these sorrowful scenes^ which memory, ever 
 true to her nature, raised before his mind's eye in rapid 
 and long succession, he quickened his pace ; he slackened 
 it, he quickened it again ; but nothing could rid him of 
 those tormenting images, which seemed to glide around 
 him like mournful apparitions of the departed. 
 
 When the dawn broke, and the sun rose, he found him- 
 self advanced several miles on the south side of Ponton Hill. 
 The spiry aisles of Harrowby Abbey were discernible 
 through the mist ; and the towers of Somerset Castle, from 
 their height and situation, were as distinctly seen as if he 
 had been at their base. Neither of these objects were cal- 
 culated to raise the spirits of Thaddeus. The sorrows of 
 the Countess, whose eyes he so recently had closed, and 
 the treatment which he afterwards received from the man 
 to whom he owed his life, were recollections which made 
 him turn from the Abbey with a pang, and fix his eyes on 
 Somerset. He looked towards its ivied battlements, with 
 all the regret and all the tenderness which can overflow a 
 human heart : under that roof, he believed the eyes of his 
 adored IMary were sealed in sleep ; and in an instant liis 
 agitated soul addressed her as if she liad been present. 
 
 " Farewell, most lovely, most beloved ! The conviction 
 that I resign the hope of ever again beholding thee, to the 
 peace of my friend, shall give me comfort, when I am draw- 
 ing my breath in a far, far distant region." 
 
 Thus communing with his troubled spirit, he walked the 
 whole day on his way to London. Totally absorbed in 
 meditation, he did not remark the gaze of curiosity which 
 followed his elegant yet distressed figure, as he passed 
 through the different towns and villages. Musing on the 
 past, the present, and the future, he neither felt hunger nor 
 thirst ; but, with a fixed eye and abstracted countenance, 
 pursued his route, until night and weariness overtook him 
 in the midst of the high road, far from any house. 
 
 Thaddeus looked around and above : the sky was clear 
 and glittering with stars : the moon, shining on a branch of 
 the Ouse which divides Huntingdonshire from Cambridge- 
 shire, lit the green heath which skirted its banks. He wished 
 not for a more magnificent canojiy ; and^ placing his bundle
 
 THADDISUS OF WARSAW. SQQ 
 
 under liis head, he lay down beneath a liillock of furze, and 
 slept till morning. 
 
 AVhen he awoke from a sleej), wliich fatif^ue and fasting 
 had rendered more oppressive than refreshing, he found 
 that the splendours of the night were succeeded by a heavy 
 rain, and that he was wet through. He rose with a stiff- 
 ness in his limbs, a pain in his head, and a dimness over his 
 eyes, which almost disabled liim from moving. He readily 
 judged that he had caught cold ; and every moment feeling 
 himself grow worse, he thought it necessary to seek some 
 house where he might purchase rest and assistance. 
 
 Leaning on his stick, but no longer able to encumber 
 himself with even the light load of his bundle, he threw it 
 amongst the brambles. Thinking, from the symptoms 
 which he felt, that he had not many hours to endure the 
 ills of life, he staggered a few yards farther : no habitation 
 appeared : his limbs became more feeble, his eyes seemed 
 totally obscured, and he sunk down on a bank. For a mi- 
 nute he attempted to struggle with the cold grasp of death^ 
 which he believed was fastening on his heart. 
 
 " And are my days to be so short ? Are they to end 
 thus ? " thought he : " Merciful Providence, pardon my 
 re})ining ! " 
 
 These were the last movements of the lips of Thaddeus, 
 whilst his blood seemed freezing to insensibility. His eyes 
 closed, his head fell back ; and pale and without animation, 
 he lay at the foot of the tree near which he had dropped. 
 
 He remained a quarter of an hour in this death-like state 
 before he was perceived ; at length a gentleman, who was 
 passing that road in his way to a country-seat in Cam- 
 bridgeshire, thought he perceived a man lying amongst the 
 grass a little onward on the heath. The traveller stopped 
 his carriage, and ordering one of the out-riders to alight, 
 bade him examine whether the object he saw were living or 
 dead. 
 
 The man obeyed ; and presently returning, with an af- 
 frighted countenance, informed his master it was the body 
 of a man, who by his dress appeared to be a gentleman ; 
 and, being quite senseless, he supposed had been murdered 
 by robbers. The features of the benevolent stranger in-
 
 400 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 stantly reflected the distress of his servant's ; and ordering 
 the chariot door to be opened^ he took in his hand a bottle 
 of dropSj (which, from his own invalid state, was his tra- 
 velling companion,) and alighting, hastened to the side of 
 the lifeless Thaddeus. 
 
 By this time, all the servants were collected round the 
 spot ; and the good man himself, whilst he gazed with pity 
 on the marble features of the Count, observed with pleasure 
 that he saw no marks of violence. Supposing that the pre- 
 sent accident might have been occasioned by a fit ; and 
 thinking it possible to recall life, he desired that the unfor- 
 tunate person's waistcoat might be unclosed ; and, taking 
 off his hat, he contrived to pour some drops into his mouth. 
 Their warmth renewed pulsation in the heart ; for one of 
 the servants, who was stooping, declared that it beat under 
 his hand. When the benevolent gentleman was satisfied of 
 the truth of this report, he ordered his servants to place the 
 poor traveller in his carriage. Having only another mile 
 to go, he said, he hoped his charge might be restored at the 
 end of their journey. 
 
 Whilst the postilions drove rapidly towards the house, 
 the cold face of Thaddeus rested on the bosom of the 
 stranger, who continued to chafe his temples with lavender 
 water until the chariot stopped before the gates. Two men 
 carried the Count to the house ; and leaving him with their 
 master and a medical man, who resided near, other restor- 
 atives were applied, which succeeded in recovering his lost 
 senses. When he was recalled to recollection, and able to 
 distinguish objects, he saw that he was supported by two 
 gentlemen, and in a magnificent bed-chamber. 
 
 Gratitude was an active virtue in the soul of Tliaddeus. 
 At the moment of his awakening from that sleep, which, 
 when it fell upon him, he believed would last until time 
 should be lost in eternity, — he pressed the hands of them 
 who held his own, not doubting but that they were the good 
 Samaritans who had preserved him from perishing. 
 
 The younger of the gentlemen perceiving by the ani- 
 mated lustre which spread over his patient's eyes, that he 
 was going to speak, put his hand on his lips, and said, 
 " Pardon me, sir ! you must not speak. Your life at pre-
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 401 
 
 sent hangs on a thread ; the slightest exertion would snap 
 it : but as all you want is rest and resuscitation to supply 
 some great expense which the vital powers have sustained, 
 I must require you neither to speak nor be spoken to until 
 I give permission. Meanwhile, be satisfied, sir, you are 
 in the most honourable hands. This gentleman," added he, 
 pointing to his friend, " saw you on the heath, and brought 
 you to his house, where you now are." 
 
 Thaddeus bowed his head to them both in sign of grati- 
 tude and compliance, and the elder left the room. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 Next morning, when the seal was taken off the lips of 
 Thaddeus, he expressed in the most animated terms his 
 deep sense of the humanity which actuated both the gentle- 
 men to take such a generous interest in his fate. 
 
 " You owe no thanks to me," replied the one who had 
 enjoined and released him from silence, and who was alone 
 with him ; " I am only the agent of another. Yet, I do 
 not deny, that in obeying the benevolent orders of Sir Robert 
 Somerset, I have frequent opportunities of gratifj-ing my 
 own heart." 
 
 Thaddeus was so confounded at this discovery, he could 
 not speak, and the gentleman proceeded. 
 ■ " I am apothecary to Sir Robert's household ; and, as 
 my excellent employer has been long afflicted with an ill 
 state of health, I live in a small lodge at the other end of 
 the park. He is the boast of the country : the best land- 
 lord and the kindest neighbour. All ranks of people love 
 him ; and when he dies (which his late apoplectic fits make 
 it too probable may be soon), both poor 'and rich will lose 
 their friend. — 111 as he was this morning, when I told him 
 you were out of danger, he expressed a pleasure which did 
 him more gooil than all my medicines." 
 
 Not considering the wildness of the question, Thaddeus 
 hastily demanded, " Does he know who I am .'' " 
 
 D D
 
 402 TIIADDErS OF WARSAW. 
 
 The honest apothecary stared at the look and tone of 
 voice with which these words were delivered^ and then re- 
 phed, " No : is there any reason^ sir_, to make you wish 
 that he should not ? " 
 
 " Certainly none/' replied Thaddeus, recollecting him- 
 self, and sighing ; " and I shall be impatient until I have 
 an opportunity of telling him how grateful I am for the 
 goodness he has shown to me as a stranger." 
 
 Surprised at these hints^ (which the County not considering 
 their tendency, allowed to escape him,) the apothecary ga- 
 thered sufficient from them, united with the speaker's supe- 
 rior mien, to make him suppose that his patient was some 
 emigrant of quality whom Sir Robert would rejoice in 
 having served. These surmises and conclusions having 
 passed very quickly through the honest gentleman's brain, 
 he bowed his head with that respect, which the generous 
 mind is proud to pay to nobility in ruins, and resumed : — 
 
 " AVhatever you may be, sir, a peasant or a prince, you 
 will meet with British hospitality from the noble owner of 
 this house. The magnificence of his spirit is equalled by 
 the goodness of his heart ; and I am certain Sir Robert will 
 consider as fortunate, the dreadful apoplexy which brought 
 him from Somerset for change of air, as it has afforded him 
 an opportunity of serving and of knowing you." 
 
 Thaddeus blushed at the strain of this speech ; and rea- 
 dily understanding what was passing in the mind of the 
 apothecary, hardly knew what to reply. He paused for a 
 moment, and then said, " All you have declared, sir, in 
 praise of Sir Robert Somerset, I cannot have a doubt of his 
 deserving. I have already felt the effects of his humanity, 
 and shall ever remember that my life was prolonged by his 
 means ; but I have no pretensions (o the honour of his ac- 
 quaintance. I only wish to see him, that I may thank him 
 for what he has done ; therefore, if you will permit me to 
 rise this evening instead of to-morrow morning, you will 
 oblige me." 
 
 To this request the apothecary gave a respectful yet firm 
 denial ; and went down stairs, to communicate his observ- 
 ations to his patron. 
 
 The anxiety which agitated the Count, when he reflected
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 403 
 
 that he was receiving these obligations from his most 
 implacable enemy, so occupied and disturbed him, that he 
 spent a sleepless night. The dawn found his fever much 
 augmented ; but no corporeal sufferings could persuade him 
 to abandon the resolution of seeing the Baronet, and imme- 
 diately leaving his house. Believing, as lie did, that all 
 this kindness would have been withheld, had his host known 
 on whom he was pouring such benefits, he thought that 
 every minute which passed over him, while he was under 
 Sir Robert's roof, inflicted a new outrage on his dignity and 
 honour. 
 
 To this end, then, as soon as Mr. MidtUeton the apothe- 
 cary retired to breakfast, Thaddeus rose from his bed ; and 
 was completely dressed before he returned. The good man 
 expostulated on the rashness of what he had done, and 
 augiu-ed no less than a relapse from the morning symptoms 
 of his patient. Thaddeus, once in his life, was obstinate, 
 though civilly so ; and desiring a servant to request Sir 
 Robert would indulge him with an audience for a few 
 minutes alone in his library, he soon convinced Mr. INIiddle- 
 ton that his purpose was not to be shaken. 
 
 The Baronet returning his compliuients, that he should 
 be happy to see his guest, the still anxious apothecary 
 offered him his assistance down the stairs. Thaddeus 
 needed no help, and gratefully declined it. The exertion 
 necessary to be summoned for this interview imparted as 
 much momentary strength to his frame as to his mind; and 
 though his colour was heightened, he entered the library 
 with a firm step. 
 
 Sir Robert met him at the door, and, shaking him by the 
 hand with many warm assurances of pleasure at his recovery, 
 would have led him to a seat ; but Thaddeus drawing 
 back, only supported himself against the back of it with his 
 hand; whilst in a steady voice he expressed the most ani- 
 mated thanks for the benefits he had received ; then paus- 
 ing and casting the proud lustre of his eyes to the ground, 
 lest their language should tell all that he thought, he con- 
 tinued, " I have only to regret. Sir Robert, that your bene- 
 volence has been lavished on a man whom you regard with 
 abhorrence. I am the Count Sobieski, that Polander whom
 
 404 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 you commanded your son to see no more. Respecting even 
 the prejudices of my friend's parent^ 1 was hastening to 
 London, meaning to set sail for America with the first ship, 
 when I swooned on the road. I beheve I was expiring : 
 your humanity saved me ; and I now owe to gratitude, as 
 well as to my own satisfaction, the fulfilment of my declar- 
 ation. I shall leave Deerhurst immediately, and England, 
 as soon as I am able to embark." 
 
 Thaddeus, with a second bow, and not quite so firm a 
 step, without venturing a glance at what he supposed were 
 the abashed looks of the Baronet, was preparing to quit the 
 room, when Sir Robert, with a pale and aghast counte- 
 nance, exclaimed, " Stop ! " 
 
 Thaddeus looked around, and regarded him with wonder. 
 The Baronet, incapable of saying more, pointed to a chair 
 for him to sit down ; then sinking into another himself, 
 took out his handkerchief, and wiping away the large drops 
 which stood on his forehead, panted for respiration. At 
 last, with a desperate kind of haste, he said — 
 
 " Was your mother, indeed, Therese Sobieski } " 
 
 Thaddeus, still more astonished, replied in the affirm- 
 ative ; and Sir Robert threw himself back on the chair with 
 a deep groan. Hardly knowing what he did, the Count 
 rose from his seat and advanced towards him. Hearing his 
 approach. Sir Robert stretched out his hand, and, with a 
 look and tone of agony, said — " Who was your father ? " 
 and then, without waiting for a reply, covered his convulsed 
 features with his handkerchief. — The Baronet's agitation, 
 which now shook him like an earthquake, became conta- 
 gious : Thaddeus gazed at him with a palsying uncertainty 
 in his heart ; and laying his hand on his bewildered brain, 
 he answered, " I know not. I believe the Earl of Tine- 
 mouth. But here is his picture." ^Vith a trembling hand 
 he took the case which held it from his pocket ; and, tearing 
 open the clasps, gave it to Sir Robert, who had started from 
 his seat at the name of the Eai-1. The moment the Baronet's 
 eyes rested on the miniature, he threw it from him, and fell 
 senseless upon the chair. 
 
 Thaddeus, hardly more alive, sprinkled some water on 
 his face, and with throbbing temples and a beating heart
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 405 
 
 stood in wordless expectation over him. Such excessive 
 emotion told him, that something more than Sir Robert's 
 hatred of the Polanders had stimulated his late conduct ; 
 and, too earnest for an explanation to ring for assistance, 
 he rejoiced to see by the convulsion of the Baronet's 
 featui-es, and the heaving of his chest, that animation Avas 
 returning. In a fcAV minutes lie opened his eyes, but when 
 he met the anxious gaze of Thaddeus, he closed them as 
 suddenly, and, rising from his seat, staggered against the 
 chimney-piece, exclaiming, " O God, direct me." 
 
 Thaddeus, whose conjectures were now wrought almost 
 to wildness, followed him, and, whilst his exhausted frame 
 was ready to sink to tlie earth, implored him to speak. 
 
 " O, sir," cried he, " if you know any thing of my 
 family ! If you know any thing of my father, in pity 
 answer me ! Or, only tell me : am I so wretched as to be 
 the son of Lord Tinemouth ? " 
 
 The violence of the Count's emotions during this agonis- 
 ing petition totally overcame him ; before he finished 
 speaking, his limbs withdrew their support ; and, sinking 
 on his knees, his head dropped breathless against the side 
 of a chair : though incapable of standing, his beseeching 
 and eager eyes were yet rivetted on the Baronets averted 
 face- 
 Sir Robert turned hastily round. He saw him sunk, like 
 a beautiful flower bruised and trampled on by the foot of 
 him who had given it root : unable to make any evasive 
 reply to this last appeal of virtue and of nature, he threw 
 himself with a burst of tears upon his neck, and exclaimed, 
 " "W^retch that I have been ! O Sobieski ! / am thy father. 
 Dear, injured son of the unhappy Therese \" 
 
 The first words which carried this avowal to the heart 
 of Thaddeus deprived it of motion ; and, when Sir Robert 
 expected to receive the returning embrace of his son, he 
 found him senseless in his arms. 
 
 The cries of the Baronet brought ISIr. Middleton and the 
 servants into the room. ^Vlien the former saw the state of 
 the Count, and perceived the agonised position of his patron 
 (who was supporting and leaning over his son), the honest 
 man declared, that he expected nothing less from the gentle- 
 
 D D 3
 
 406 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 man's disobedience of his orders. The presence of the 
 servants having recalled Sir Robert's wandering faculties^ 
 he desired them to remove Thaddeus to his chamber. 
 Then, following them in silence ; when they had laid their 
 charge on the bed, he watched in extreme, but concealed, 
 anxiety, until Mr. Middleton again brought animation to 
 his patient. 
 
 The moment the Count unclosed his eyes, they fixed 
 themselves on his agitated father. He drew the hand which 
 held his to his lips. The tears of paternal love again 
 bathed the cheeks of Sir Robert ; he felt how warm at his 
 heart was the affection of his deserted son ; (and making a 
 sign for jMr. jNIiddleton to leave the room, who obeyed,) 
 he bent his streaming eyes upon the other hand of Thaddeus, 
 and said in a faltering voice, " Can you pardon me .'' " 
 
 Thaddeus threw himself on his father's bosom, and wept 
 profusely ; then raising Sir Robert's clasped hands in his, 
 whilst his eloquent eyes seemed to search the heavens, he 
 said, " My dear, dear mother loved you to her latest hour ; 
 and I have all my mother's heart : whatever may have been 
 your errors, I love my father." 
 
 Sir Robert strained him to his breast. After a pause, 
 whilst he shook the tears from his venerable cheeks, he 
 resumed — " Certain, my dear son, that you require repose, 
 and assured that you will not find it until I have offered 
 some apology for my unnatural conduct, I will now explain 
 the circumstances which impelled my actions ; and drew 
 distress upon that noble creature, your mother." 
 
 Sir Robert hesitated a moment to recover breath, and 
 then went on. 
 
 " Keep your situation," added he, putting down Thad- 
 deus, who at this opening was raising himself : " I shall tell 
 my melancholy story with less pain, if your eyes be not upon 
 me. I will begin from the first." 
 
 The Baronet proceeded to say. That very early in life he 
 attached himself to Miss Beaufort, the only sister of the late 
 Admiral Beaufort, who was jNIary's father : they were tlien 
 wards of Sir Fulke Somerset. Mr. Beaufort had been in the 
 navy from a boy; but his sister remaining always at the 
 Castle, an affection, as strong as it was mutual, took place
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 407 
 
 between herself and her cousin Robert. When the young 
 people applied to Sir Fulke for his consent to their marriage, 
 he refused, on the plea of their youth. In vain the pas- 
 sionate Robert declared the reasonableness and ardour of his 
 affection ; his father urged his being only a younger son ; 
 and, indeed, that he was totally unworthy of his cousin, 
 ui.less he would consent to undergo the polish of a three 
 years' tour over the Continent. After some altercation, this 
 arrangement was complied with; and Robert and iMiss Beau- 
 fort bade each other a melancholy adieu. Indignant at the 
 pertinacity of Sir Fulke, and provoked with his elder brother 
 for seconchng his father's argument, Robert Somerset set off 
 for Dover. There he was joined by the present Earl of 
 Tinemouth (then Mr. Stanhope), who was banished the 
 country on a similar errand : but his was to forget a mis- 
 tress ; Somerset's to deserve one. Stanhope's mother and 
 Robert's having been sisters, the young men met as relations. 
 Mutually enraged at their fathers (their mothers having 
 been long dead), they determined to change their names ; 
 and to let no one know any thing about them during their 
 travels, excepting the two women on whose dear accounts 
 they were thus exiled. To this end, as soon as they landed 
 in France, they gave themselves out to be brothers, which 
 their great personal resemblance corroborated, and called 
 themselves Sackville. This settled, they travelled pretty 
 amicably, until they reached Naples : here ]Mr. Stanhope 
 involved himself in an intrigue with the only daughter of 
 an old British officer, who had retired to that climate for his 
 health. Somerset remonstrated on the villany of seducing 
 an innocent girl, when he knew that his heart and hand 
 were absolutely devoted to another ; and Stanhope, enraged 
 at finding a censor in a companion whom he considered as 
 headstrong as himself, ended the argument by striking him. 
 Somerset drew his sword ; and it is likely, if the servants of 
 the hotel had not interfered, the affray would have termin- 
 ated with one of their lives. Since that hour they never 
 met. Mr. Stanhope left his shame, and his bleeding friend; 
 and, fearful of consequences, fled to Palermo. AVhen reco- 
 vered from his wounds, Robert Somerset (still retaining the 
 name of Sackville) proceeded to Florence; in which beau- 
 D D 4
 
 408 THADDEUS OF VrARSAW. 
 
 tiful city, determining to stay some time, he rather sought 
 than repelled the civilities of the inhabitants. Here he 
 became acquainted with the Palatine, and the lovely Therese. 
 Her beauty pleased his taste ; her gentle virtues affected his 
 heart ; and he often gazed on her with tenderness, when his 
 fidelity to Miss Beaufort only meant him to convey a look 
 of gratitude. — In the midst of this intimacy, as if aware of 
 a friendship so hostile to her love, his cousin ceased to an- 
 swer his letters. Desperate with jealousy, he was on the 
 point of going to England, when he received a packet from 
 home. On opening it he found a letter from Miss Beaufort, 
 in which she informed him, that having long considered 
 their attachment as a childish entanglement, she had tried to 
 wean him from his former folly, by an obstinate silence. 
 Having hardly a doubt that she had succeeded, she now 
 broke through her resolution ; as it was to show him at 
 once, the unreasonableness of making such early engage- 
 ments. Soon after his departure a journey to town had 
 taught her to know her own heart; and, in consequence, 
 she had yielded her hand to his elder brother; who,he knew, 
 had always been averse to her marriage with him. This 
 shameless declaration concluded with the insult of subscrib- 
 ing herself his " affectionate sister." Having read the letter 
 to the end, Mr. Somerset forswore his family for ever ; and 
 flying to Therese Sobieski, in a paroxysm of madness and 
 revenge, married her. This rash act perpetrated, he in vain 
 sought for tranquillity ; he saw that she idolised him, but 
 his thoughts were always fixed on his ungrateful Mary ; 
 were always deploring her Ughtness, and execrating the per- 
 fidy of his brother. In this temper a second packet found 
 him. Again he saw Miss Beaufort's hand-writing ; but he 
 dropped it with horror into the envelope, and tore open the 
 black seal which was affixed to a letter from his father. 
 Here Sir Fulke confessed such a plan of deceit as petrified 
 his son. He declaretl that all which had passed was devised 
 by his eldest son, in hopes of tempting his l)rother to revenge 
 the affront of Mary's supposed infidelity, by running himself 
 into some inconsiderate marriage. — With many prayers for 
 pardon, the wretched old man acknowledged that this bitter 
 confession was wrung from him by the sudden death of his
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 409 
 
 eldest soiij who now lay a corpse in the house. The dis- 
 consolate father having related the particulars of Mr. Somer- 
 set's death (which hai)pene(l after three days' illness), added, 
 that it was in coni])liance with his entreaties to preserve 
 Miss lieaufort for him, that he had agreed to drive Robert 
 from the kingdom. To further the scheme of separation, lie 
 had intercepted their mutual letters; and Mr. Somerset 
 himself had forged the one in Miss Beaufort's name, 
 which had carried the intelligence of their union. Jiy the 
 same means, a similar effect was wrought upon the abused 
 Mary. Believing Robert imfaithful, she fell into so sad a 
 dejection, and appeared so careless of herself, that the cruel 
 father and son hoped she might be induced, through mere 
 weakness of mind, to give her hand to the persecuting passion 
 of Mr. Somerset. " But," continued Sir Fulke, " death has 
 put an end to this unnatural rivalry ; and my poor girl, un- 
 deceived in her opinion of you, pants to see you, and to 
 give you that hand, which my ill-fated son and your un- 
 happy father so unjustly detained." 
 
 On the receipt of this packet, with a soul divided between 
 love, humanity, and honour, Robert Somerset sacrificed all 
 to his passions. He adored the woman on whose account 
 he had left his country ; and, though every tie of heaven 
 and earth bound him to his deceived and injured wife, he 
 consigned her to the full horrors of desertion, and hastened 
 to England. 
 
 " Horrible to relate," added Sir Robert, " immediately 
 on my landing, I married Mary Beaufort. In her arms I 
 forgot for a while Therese and her agonies. But when my 
 dear Pembroke first saw the light, when I prest him to my 
 heart, it seemed as if at the same instant I stabbed it with 
 a dagger. ^Vhen I would have breathed a blessing over 
 him the conviction struck me, that 1 durst not ; that I had 
 deluded the mother who gave him birth ; and that at some 
 future period, he might have cause to curse the author of 
 his existence. "Well," continued the Baronet, wiping his 
 forehead, " though the birth of this boy conjured up the 
 image of your mother, which hainited me day and night, I 
 never could sunnnon courage to en(juire respecting her fate. 
 When the troubles of Poland commenced, what a dreadful
 
 410 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 terror seized me ! The success of the Russians^ and the 
 consequent distresses of the nobility, overwhelmed me with 
 fear : I knew not but they might be forced, hke the French 
 noblesse, to fly their country ; and the bare idea of meeting 
 your grandfather, or the injured Therese, in England, pre- 
 cipitated me into such a series of apprehensions as menaced 
 my life. I became melancholy and ill ; I avoided the sight 
 of Uie newspapers ; and, as far as I could (under the plea 
 of the story which you have heard), I withheld my family 
 from speaking on a subject which manifestly gave me pain. 
 But I could not prevent the tongues of our visiters from 
 discoursing on a theme which at that period interested every 
 thinking mind. I heard of the valiant Kosciuszko, the 
 good Stanislaus, and the Palatine Sobieski with his brave 
 grandson, spoken of in the same breath. I durst not sur- 
 mise who this grandson was : I durst not ask ; I dreaded 
 to know. At length," added he, quickening his voice, " the 
 . idol of my heart, she for whom I had perhaps sacrificed my 
 eternal peace, died in my arms ! I received the shock as 
 became a Christian ; I bent beneath the blow with humility; 
 for I embraced it as the expiation of a crime, which, till 
 then, even in the midst of my felicity, sat on my soul like 
 the hand of death. I bore this trial with resignation. But, 
 when two years afterwards, my eye fell by accident upon 
 the name of Sobieski in one of the public papers, I could 
 not withdraw it ; my sight was fascinated as if by a rattle- 
 snake ; and in one column I read, how bravely the Palatine 
 fell j and in the next, the dreadful fate of his daughter. 
 She was revenged ! " cried Sir Robert, eagerly grasping the 
 hand of Thaddeus, who could not restrain the groan which 
 burst from his breast. " For nearly three months I was 
 deprived of that reason which had abused her noble nature. 
 When I recovered my senses," continued he, " and found 
 I had so fatally suffered the time of restitution to go by, I 
 began to torment myself that I had not, on the death of 
 • Lady Somerset, hastened to Poland, and entreated Therese's 
 pardon on my knees. This period of vivid remorse was, 
 however, soon terminated by the same arguments which, 
 on the first year of my wife's loss, had deterred me from 
 being just. I reconsidered that the Countess Sobieski,
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW, 411 
 
 having possessed a prior claim to my name, such restitution 
 on my part must have illegitiuiisecl my darlin;^ Pembroke. 
 It was tills horrid conviction/' exclaimed Sir Robert, a 
 sudden distraction agitating his before affectionate eye, 
 " that caused all my cruelty to you. Al'^hen my dear son 
 described the danger from which you had rescued him ; 
 when he told me, that Therese had fostered him with a mo- 
 ther's tenderness ; 1 was probed to the heart : but when he 
 added, that the young Count Sobieski was now an alien 
 from his country, and relying on my friendship for a home, 
 my terror was too truly manifestrxK Horror drove all na- 
 tural remorse from my soul. I thought an avenging power 
 had sent my deserted child to discover his father, to claim 
 his rights, and to publish me as a villain : and when I saw 
 my innocent son, even on his knees, petitioning for the man, 
 who I believed was come to undo him, 1 became almost 
 frantic. Under this temper," added he, putting the trem- 
 bling hand of Thaddeus to his streaming eyes, " I drove 
 out my tirst-born, to be a wanderer on the face of the earth; 
 not for his own crimes, but for those of his father; and 
 Heaven punished my injustice. AMien I thought that the 
 evidence of my shame was divided from me by an insuper- 
 able barrier ; Avhen 1 believed that the ocean would soon 
 separate me from all my fears ; a righteous Providence 
 brought thee before me, forlorn and expiring. It was the 
 son of Therese Sobieski, I had exposed to such wretched- 
 ness ! It was the darling of her heart I had consigned to 
 the beating elements ! O Thaddeus," cried he, " can I be 
 forgiven for all this ? " 
 
 Thaddeus lulled the wakeful remorse of his venerable 
 father with such kind arguments of excuse for his conduct, 
 as at least imparted to him a consoling assurance in the 
 generous affection of his son. 
 
 When this long and interesting conversation terminated. 
 Sir Robert, well remembering the violent effects of ^Nlr. 
 Somerset's grief at Sobieski's flight and declared abjuration 
 of England, pardoned his son the outrageous reproaches 
 w^hich had driven him from his own house, and very joy- 
 fully despatched a messenger to desire his presence at Deer- 
 hurst.
 
 412 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 That sickness which is the consequence of mental pain 
 usually vanishes with its cause. Long before the evening of 
 the ensuing day Thaddeus quitted his chamber, and related 
 to his father the rapid incidents of his brief and eventful 
 career. The voice of fame had blazoned him abroad as " the 
 j)lume of war, with early laurels crowned," but it was left 
 to his oAvn eloquent tongue to prove, with all the pathos of 
 modesty and feeling, that the most desperate conflicts are 
 not those which we sustain in the field. 
 
 Sir Robert listened to him with affection, admiration, 
 and delight. He was answering the interesting detail, with 
 many grateful apostrophes to that Providence which had 
 crowned his old age with pardon and peace ; when the ser- 
 vant opened the door, and announced that Mr. Somerset was 
 in the library. 
 
 Thaddeus instantly rose ; but Sir Robert put him down 
 again. " Remain here, my dear son," said he, " until I 
 apprise your brother how nearly you are related to him. 
 That door leads into my study ; I will call you when he is 
 prepared." 
 
 The moment Sir Robert joined Pembroke, he read in his 
 pale and harassed countenance how much he required the 
 intelligence he was summoned to hear. Mr. Somerset bowed 
 coldly on his father's entrance, and begged to be honoured 
 with his commands. 
 
 " They are, what I expect will restore to you your usual 
 looks and manner, my dear boy," answered his father, 
 taking his passive hand and seating him by him; " so attend 
 to me." 
 
 Pembroke listened to the beginning of the Baronet's nar- 
 rative with res{)ectful attention ; but when the name of 
 Therese Sobieski was mentioned as the woman whom he 
 had married and deserted, the ready apprehension of his 
 son, conceiving the rest, he had only to affirm liis eager 
 demand that Thaddeus was indeed his brother. Pembroke 
 looked wildly around him.
 
 THADDEt'S OF WARSAW. 413 
 
 ' " O, my father ! " cried he, " what have you done ? — 
 ^Vliere is he ? For whlit have you sacrificed him ? " 
 
 " Hear me to an end/' rejoined tlie Baronet ; who then, 
 in as few words as possible, repeated the consequent events 
 witli the recent meeting. 
 
 Pembroke's raptures were now as high, as his despair had 
 been deep. He threw himself on his fathei's breast ; he 
 asked for his friend, his brother ; and begged to be con- 
 ducted to him. Sir Robert did no more than open the 
 door which divided the library from the dining-room, 
 and in one moment the brothers were locked in each other's 
 arms. 
 
 The transports of the young men for a long time denied 
 them words ; but their eyes, their tears, and their united 
 hands, impartetl to each breast a consciousness of mutual 
 love unutterable, if not to be expressed by those looks which 
 are indeed the heralds of the soul. 
 
 Sir Robert wept like an infant whilst contemplating these 
 two affectionate brothers : in a faltering voice he exclaimed, 
 " How soon may these plighted hands be separated by the 
 harpies of the law ! Alas, Pembroke, you cannot be igno- 
 rant that I buy this son at the price of your legitimacy ? " 
 
 At this speech, the blood rushed over the cheek of the 
 ingenuous Pembroke ; but Thaddeus, turning instantly to 
 Sir Robert, said, with an eloquent smile — 
 
 " On this head, 1 trust that neither my father nor my 
 brother will entertain one thought to trouble them. Had I 
 even the inclination to act otherwise than right, my re- 
 vered grandfather has put it out of my power to bear any 
 other name than that of Sobicski. He made me swear 
 never to change it ; and as I hope to meet him hereafter," 
 added he, with solemnity, " I will obey him ! Therefore, 
 my beloved father, in secret only, can I enjoy the convic- 
 tion that I am your son, and Pembroke's brother ; yet, the 
 happiness I receive with the knowledge of being so, will ever 
 live here ; wiU ever animate my heart with gratitude to 
 Heaven and to you." 
 
 ' " Noble son of the sainted Therese ! "' cried Sir Robert, 
 " I do not deserve thee !' 
 
 " How shall I merit your care of my honour, of my 
 dearest feelings .f" " exclaimed Pembroke, pressing the hand?;
 
 414 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 of his brother to his heart ; '' 1 can do nothing, dearest 
 Thaddeus. 1 am a bankrupt in the means of evincing what 
 is passing in my soul. My mother's chaste spirit thanks 
 you from my lips. Yet I Avill not abuse your generosity ; 
 though I retain the name of Somerset, it shall only be the 
 name ; the inheritance entailed on my father's eldest son 
 belongs to you." 
 
 Whilst Thaddeus embraced his brother with affection, he 
 calmly and firmly replied, that he would rather encounter 
 all the probable miseries from which his father's benevo- 
 lence had saved him, than rob his brother of any part of 
 what he believed was his just due. 
 
 Sir Robert, with hatred of himself, and admiration of his 
 sons, attempted to stop this generous contention, by saying, 
 that it should be determined by an equal division of his 
 estates. 
 
 " Not so, my dear father," replied Thaddeus, " I will 
 never consent that the title of Somerset shall want wealth 
 to support the munificence of its possessor." 
 
 After a few more arguments of the same tendency, the 
 controversy was settled ; and the remainder of the evening 
 passed in that sweet reciprocity of confidence and bliss, 
 which the imagination can best picture. 
 
 According to the decisions of this night. Sir Robert wrote 
 next morning to his sister ; informing her, that accident 
 had introduced Pembroke's friend, the Count Sobieski, to 
 his presence ; when, to his amazement and joy, he disco- 
 vered that this celebrated young hero (though of a nation 
 to which he had declared an abliorrence), was the only re- 
 maining branch of a family to which he owed unnumbered 
 obligations. He added, that, five-and-twenty years ago, 
 having contracted an immense debt to the Palatine of 
 Masovia, — as a small compensation to his brave repre- 
 sentative, he now signed over to the C'ount (who would 
 resume all the distinctions of his rank), the house and 
 estates of Deerhurst to the amount of three thousand a-year. 
 He told her that Pembroke did not deem such abstraction 
 from the rent-roll of Somerset any loss ; for twelve thou- 
 sand annually Avould yet remain ; and could his wishes have 
 been complied with, he would have divided his whole patri- 
 mony with his friend. He closed his letter with exprcs-
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 415 
 
 sions of impatience to present to his sister and niece j" their 
 interesting eniiyri- under a character which reflected honour 
 on their discernment. 
 
 This epistle was put into the liands of Mrs. Dorotliy as 
 she was following the melancholy stejjs of Miss Beaufort and 
 Lady Albina Stanhope into the travelling coach. Having 
 seated herself, the old lady read it aloud to both the young 
 ones. At every welcome word the bosom of the amazed 
 and overjoyed Mary heaved with exultation, hope, and gra- 
 titude ; and while her eyes, beneath her veil, poured the 
 tribute of happy tears to Heaven, to that Heaven alone her 
 virgin spirit breathed the emotions of her heart. The good 
 old lady was not backward in demonstrating her astonish- 
 ment. Surprised at her brother's rencontre with 'I'haddeus, 
 but more at his avowal of obligations to any of that nation, 
 about which he always had asserted directly the reverse ; 
 she was so wrapped in wonder and pleasure, that her ever- 
 cheerful tongue lightened her happy lieart by relating to the 
 attentive Lady Aibina, the public, as well as private history, 
 of the Count Sobieski. 
 
 When the carriage arrived at Deerhurst, it was past 
 midnight ; and to the no small disappointment of the lathes, 
 the family were retired to bed. j\Irs. Dorothy, Avho would 
 not suffer her brother to be disturbed, sent the girls to their 
 rooms ; and was crossing one of the galleries to her own 
 apartment, when a door opening, Pembroke, in his night- 
 gown and slippers, looked out. Having heard a bustle in 
 the house, he was going to enquire the reason, just as his 
 aunt appeared. She congratulated him on the change in 
 his father's conduct, kissed him, bade him good night, 
 told him to prepare for more good news in the moriiing, 
 and smiling, hurried to her chamber. 
 
 Pembroke thought so little of Mrs. Dorothy's lively pro- 
 mise, that he was one of the last who descended to the 
 breakfast-parlour. She reproached him for his undutiful 
 laziness ; while ^liss Beaufort with a glowing cheek em- 
 braced her cousin, who whispered, '• Now, I shall see the 
 two dearest friends I po&sess happy in each other." 
 
 Mary's vivid bhish had not subsid.'d when the entrance 
 of Thaddeus, and his agitated bow, overs|)read her neck and 
 bosom with crimson. A dimness obscured her faculties;
 
 416 
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 she hardly heard the. animated words of Sir Robert, whilst 
 he presented him as the Count Sobieski, the darling son of 
 one who had deserved the highest place in his heart. What- 
 ever he was, she was conscious that he was lord of hers ; 
 and withdrawing her hand hastily from the timid and 
 thrilling touch of him she would have lingered near for 
 ever, she glided towards an open casement where the fresh 
 air helped to dispel the faintness which had seized her. 
 
 After Mrs. Dorothy, with all the urbanity of her nature, 
 had declared her welcomes to the Count, she put away the 
 coffee that was handed to her by Pembroke, and said with 
 a smile, " Before I taste my breakfast, I must inform you 
 Sir Robert, you have a guest in this house you little expect. 
 I forbade Miss Beaufort saying a word, because, as we are 
 told that ' the first tellers of unwelcome news have but a 
 losing office,' vice versa, I hoped for a gaining one; there- 
 fore preserved such a profitable piece of intelligence for my 
 own promulgation. Indeed, I doubt whether it wiU not 
 intoxicate some folks here," — added she, glancing archly 
 on Pembroke, who looked suddenly round at this whim- 
 sical declaration. " Suffice it to say, that yesterday morning 
 Lady Albina Stanhope, more dead than alive, accompanied 
 by her maid, arrived in a post-chaise at Somerset Castle, 
 and implored my protection. Our dear Mary embraced the 
 poor weeping young creature, who, amidst many tears, re- 
 capitulated the injuries she had suffered since she parted 
 with the Count Sobieski at the Abbey. The latest outrage 
 of her cruel father was his immediate marriage with the 
 vile Lady Sophia Lovel ; and his commands, that Lady 
 Albina would treat her as became a daughter. lU as her 
 Ladyship was when she received these disgraceful orders^ 
 she determined to prevent the degradation her obedience to 
 them would cast on the memory of her own mother, by in- 
 stantly quitting the house. She engaged her maid to assist 
 her flight; 'and,' added she, ' whither could I go? Who 
 would receive the unfortunate victim of the profligate Ladg 
 Sophia ? I could think of none so likely as the father of the 
 generous Mr. Somerset. He told me we ivere relations; J 
 beseech you to he my friends !' Certain of your benevolence, 
 my dear brother," continued Mrs. Dorothy^ " 1 stojiped
 
 THADDEt'S OF WARSAW, 417 
 
 this sweet girl's petition with my caresses, and promised 
 her a kinder father in Sir Robert Somerset." 
 
 " You did right, Dorotliy, " returned the Baronet ; 
 *' though the Earl and I must ever be strangers, I have no 
 enmity to his children. ^Vhere is this amiable Lady 
 Albina ? " 
 
 Mrs. Dorothy informed him, that in consequence of her 
 recent grief and ill treatment, her Ladyship found herself 
 too unwell to rise with the family : but that she hoped to 
 join them at noon. 
 
 Pembroke was indeed deeply interested in this intelli- 
 gence. The simple graces of the lovely Albina had, on 
 the first interview, penetrated his heart. Her sufferings at 
 Harrowby, and the sensibility which her ingenuous nature 
 exhibited without affectation or disguise, had left her image 
 in his soul long after she disappeared. He now gave the 
 reins to his eager imagination, and was the first in the 
 saloon to greet his lovely mistress. 
 
 Sir Robert Somerset welcomed her with the warmth of 
 a parent : but his enraptured son broke out into the most 
 vehement expressions of joy, which she received with timid 
 and grateful bows. 
 
 During this scene, Miss Beaufort, no longer able to bear 
 the restraint of company ; nor even the accidental encoun- 
 tering of his eyes, whose presence, dear as it was, discon- 
 certed and oppressed her ; walked out into the park. 
 Though it was the month of October, the weather continued 
 fine. A bright sun tempered the air, and gilded the yellow 
 leaves which the fresh wind drove before her in a thousand 
 glittering eddies. This was Mary's favourite season. She 
 found its softness infuse the tenderest thoughts into her soul. 
 The rugged form of Care seems to dissolve under the magic 
 touch of beautiful Nature. Forgetful of the world's anxieties, 
 the tranquillising spirit of melancholy shades the heart of 
 sorrow with a veil which might well be called the twilight 
 of the mind ; and the entranced soid, happy in delusion, 
 half closes its bright eye, reluctant to perceive that such 
 sweet repose is pillowed on the shifting clouds. 
 
 Such were the reflections of Miss Beaufort, after her 
 disturbeil thoughts had tossed themselves in a sea of doubts 
 relative to the interest she might probably possess in the 
 
 £ £
 
 418 THADDEU9 OF WARSAW. 
 
 heart of Sobieski. She recalled the hours they had passed 
 together ; they agitated, but did not satisfy, her heart. She 
 remembered Pembroke's vehement declaration that Thad- 
 deus loved her ; but then it was Pembroke's declaration, 
 not his ; and the circumstances in which it was made 
 were too likely to mislead the wishes of her cousin. And 
 then Sobieski's farewell letter ! 1 1 was noble, grateful ; but 
 where appeared the glowing, soul-pervacUng passion which 
 consumed her life for him ? Exhausted by the anguish of 
 this suspense, she resolved to resign her future fate to 
 Providence ; and, turning her gaze on the lovely objects 
 around, soon found the genius of the season absorb her wholly. 
 Her cheeks glowed, her eyes became humid, and casting 
 their mild radiance on the fading flowers beneath, she pur- 
 sued her way through a cloud of fragrance. It was the 
 last breath of the expiring year. Love is full of imagin- 
 ation. JVIary easily glided from the earth's departing 
 charms to her own waning beauty : the chord once touched, 
 every note revibrated ; and hope and fear, joy and regret, 
 again dispossessed her late acquired serenity. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 It being almost three o'clock. Lady Albina having expressed 
 a wish to walk out in search of Miss Beaufort, the two 
 brothers offered their attendance. Before her Ladyship 
 had passed through the first park, she complained of 
 fatigoie ; Pembroke urged her to enter a shepherd's hut close 
 by, whilst the Count Sobieski would proceed alone in quest 
 of his cousin. 
 
 With a beating heart, Thaddeus undertook this commis- 
 sion. Hastening along the nearest dell, with the lightness 
 of a young hunter, he mounted the heights, descended to 
 the glades, traversed one woody nook, and then another, 
 but could see no trace of Miss Beaufort. Supposing she 
 had returned to the house, he was slackening his pace to 
 abandon the search, when he caught a glimpse of her figure 
 as she turned the corner of a thicket leading to the terrace 
 above. In an instant he was at her side ; and with his hat 
 in his hand, and a glowing cheek, he repeated his errand.
 
 TIIADDEfS OF WARSAW. 41^ 
 
 Mary blushed, faltered, and was alarmed at finding her- 
 self alone with Thaddeus. Though he now stood before 
 her in a quality, which she ever believed was his rigiit, yet 
 remembrance of what had passed between them in other 
 circumstances, confounded and overwhelmed her. When 
 Constantino was poor and unfriended, it was delicious to 
 pity and to love him. "When the same Constantino ap- 
 peared as a man of rank, invested with a splendid fortune 
 and extensive fame, she was lost, annihilated. The cloud 
 which had obscured, not extinguished, his glory, was dis- 
 persed. He was that Sobieski whom she had admired 
 unseen ; he was that Constantino whom she had loved un- 
 known ; he was that Sobieski, that Constantino, who, seen 
 and known, she now adored. 
 
 W^eighed down by the weight of these reflections, she 
 only bowed to what he said ; and gathering her cloak from 
 the winds which blew it around her, was hurrying with 
 downward eyes to the stairs of the terrace, when her foot 
 slipping, she must have fallen had not Thaddeus caught her 
 in his ready arm. She rose from it with a face blushing 
 like scarlet ; and that colour did not recede, when she 
 found that he had not relinquished her hand. Her heart 
 beat violently, her head became giddy, her feet lost their 
 power ; and finding that after a slight attempt to withdraw 
 her hand, he still held it fast, though in a trembling grasp, 
 nearly overcome by inexplicable distress, she turned away 
 her face to conceal its confusion. 
 
 Thaddeus saw all this ; and with a fluttering hope, in- 
 stead of surrendering the hand he had retained, he made it 
 a yet closer prisoner, by clasping it in both his ; and 
 pressing it earnestly to his breast, said in a hurried voice, 
 whilst his eloquent eyes poured all their beams upon her 
 averted cheek, " Surely, INIiss Beaufort will not deny me the 
 dearest happiness I possess .'* The privilege of being grate- 
 ful to her." 
 
 He paused : his soul was too full for utterance ; and 
 raising Mary's hand from his heart to his lips, he kissed it 
 fervently. Almost fainting. Miss IJeaufort leaned her head 
 against a tree of the thicket where they were standing ; 
 she thought of the confession which Pembroke had ex- 
 
 E E 2
 
 420 THADDELS OF WARSAW. 
 
 torted from her, and dreading that all this was rather the 
 tribute of gratitude than of love, she waved her other hand 
 in sign for him to leave her. 
 
 Such extraordinary agitation palsied the warm and bliss- 
 ful emotions of the Count. He, too, began to blame the 
 sanguine representation of his friend; and dreading that he 
 had offended her, that she might suppose he presumed on 
 her kindness, he stood for a moment in silent astonishment ; 
 then dropping on his knee (hardly conscious of the action), 
 with an energy of voice declarative of the passion he had 
 so long smothered in his heart, he implored her pardon for 
 what had passed. 
 
 " Forgive me," added he, Avith increased earnestness ; 
 " forgive me, in justice to your own virtues. I meant only 
 to thank you for your goodness to an unfortunate exile ; 
 but if my words or manner have obeyed the more fervid 
 impidse of my soul, and declared aloud what is its glory 
 in secret, blame my nature, most respected Miss Beaufort, 
 not my presumption. I have not dared to look steadily 
 on any aim higher than your esteem." 
 
 Mary knew not how to receive this address. The posi- 
 tion in which he uttered it, his countenance, when she 
 turned to answer him, were both demonstrative of some- 
 thing less equivocal than his speech. He was still grasping 
 tlie drapery of her cloak ; and his eyes, from which the 
 wind blew back his fine hair, were beaming upon her, full 
 of that piercing tenderness which at once dissolves and 
 seizes the soul. 
 
 She passed her hand over her eyes. Her soul was in 
 tumults. She too fondly wished to believe that he loved 
 her, to trust the evidence of what she saw. His words 
 were ambiguous, and that was sufficient to fill her with 
 uncertainty. Jealous of that delicacy which is the parent 
 of love, and its best preserver, she checked the overflowings 
 of her heart ; and whilst her concealed face streamed with 
 tears, conjured him to rise. Instinctively she held out her 
 hand to assist him. He obeyed ; and hardly conscious of 
 what she said, she continued — 
 
 " You have done nothing, my Lord, to offend me. I 
 was fearful of my own conduct — that you might have 
 sup[o;.ed — I mean, unfortunate appearances might lead
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 421 
 
 you to imagine that I was influenced — was so forgetful 
 of myself " 
 
 " Cease, madam ! Cease, for pity's sake ! " cried Thad- 
 deus, starting back, and dropping her hand. livery emo- 
 tion whicli faltered on her tongue liad met an answering 
 pang in his breast. 
 
 Fearing that he had set his heart on the possession of a 
 treasure totally out of his reach, he knew not how high 
 had been his hope, until he felt the depth of his disappoint- 
 ment. Taking up his hat, which lay on the grass, with a 
 countenance from which every gleam of joy Avas banished, 
 he bowed respectfully, and in a lowered tone continued — 
 " The dependent situation in which I appeared at Lady 
 Dundas's being ever before my eyes, 1 was not so absurd 
 as to suppose that any lady could then notice me from any 
 other sentiment than humanity. That I excited this hu- 
 manity, where alone I was proud to awaken it, was, in 
 those hours of dejection, my sole comfort. It consoled me 
 for the friends I had lost ; it repaid me for the honours 
 which were no more. But that is past ! Seeing no farther 
 cause for compassion, you deem the delusion no longer 
 necessary. Since you will not allow me an intlividual 
 distinction in having attracted your benevolence, though I 
 am to ascribe it all to a charity as diffused as effective ; yet 
 I must ever acknowledge, with the deepest gi-atitude, that 
 I owe my present home and happiness to i\Iiss Beaufort. 
 Farther than this, I shall not — I dare not, presume." 
 
 These words shifted all the Count's anguish to IMary's 
 breast. She perceived the offended delicacy which actuated 
 every syllable as they fell ; and fearful of having lost every 
 thing by her cold and haughty reply, she opened her lips 
 to say what might better explain her meaning ; but her 
 heart failing her, she closed them again, and continued to 
 walk in silence by his side. Having allowed the oppor- 
 tunity to escape, she believed that all hopes of exculpation 
 were at an end ; and, not daring to look up, she cast a 
 despairing glance at Sobieski's gracefid figure as he walked 
 near her. His arms were folded, his hat pulled over his 
 forehead ; and his long dark eyelashes, shading his down- 
 ward eyes, imparted a dejection to his whole air, which 
 E E 3
 
 422 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 wrapped her weeping heart round and round with regretful 
 pangs. " Ah ! " thought she, " though the offspring of 
 but one moment, they will prey on my peace for ever." 
 
 At the turning of a little wooded knoll, the silent and 
 pensive pair heard the sound of some one on the other 
 side, walking towards them through the dry leaves. In a 
 minute after. Sir Robert Somerset appeared. 
 
 ^Vhilst his father advanced smiling towards him, Thad- 
 deus attempted to dispel the gloom of his countenance ; 
 but not succeeding, he bowed abruptly to the agitated 
 Mary ; and hastily said, " I will leave Miss Beaufort in 
 your protection, sir, and go myself and see whether or 
 not Lady Albina be recovered from her fatigue." 
 
 " I thought to find you altogether," returned Sir Robert : 
 " where is her Ladyship ? " 
 
 " I left her with Pembroke in a hut by the river," said 
 Thaddeus, and bowing again, he hurried away ; whilst his 
 father called after him to return in a few minutes, and accom- 
 pany him in a walk. 
 
 This desertion of Sobieski, when he had come expressly 
 to attend her to Lady Albina, nearly overwhelmed Miss 
 Beaufort's before exhausted spirits : hardly knowing whether 
 to remain or to retreat, she was attempting the latter, when 
 her uncle caught her by the arm. 
 
 " Stay," cried he : " why, Mary, you surely would not 
 leave me alone } " 
 
 ]\Iiss Beaufort's tears had gushed over her eyes, the mo- 
 ment her back was turned ; and as Sir Robert drew her 
 towards him, to his extreme amazement he saw that she 
 was weeping. At a sight so unexpected, the smile of 
 hilarity left his lips. Putting his arm tenderly round her 
 waist, (for now that her distress had discovered itself, her 
 agitation became so great that she could hardly stand,) he 
 enquired in an affectionate voice what afflicted her ? 
 
 She answered by sobs only, until finding it impossible 
 to break away from her uncle's arms, she hid her face in 
 liis bosom, and gave a loose to the full tide of her tears. 
 
 Sir Robert, recollecting the strange haste in which Thad- 
 deus hurried from them, and remembering ]\Iiss Beaufort's 
 generosity to him in town, followed by her succeeding me- 
 lancholy, at once united these circumstances with her pre-
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 423 
 
 sent confusion ; and conceivinpj an instantaneous suspicion 
 of the reality, pressed her with redoubled affection to his 
 bosom. 
 
 " I fear, my dearest p;irl," said he, " that something 
 disagreeable has happened between you and the Count So- 
 bieski .'' Perhaps he has offended you ? perhaps he has 
 found my sweet Mary too amiable ? " 
 
 Alarmed at this supposition, after a short struggle, she 
 answered^ " O no, sir ! it is I who have offended him. He 
 thinks I pride myself on the insignificant services I ren- 
 dered to him in London." 
 
 This reply convinced the Baronet he had not been pre- 
 mature in his judgment ; and, with a new-born delight 
 springing in his soul, he enquired why she thought so ? 
 Had she given him any reason to believe so ? 
 
 Mary trembled at saying more. Dreading that every 
 word she might utter would betray how highly she prized 
 the Count's esteem, she faltered, hesitated, stopt. Sir 
 Robert put the question a second time in different terms. 
 
 " My loved Mary," said he, seating her by him on the 
 trunk of a fallen tree, " I am sincerely anxious that you 
 and this young nobleman should regard each other as friends : 
 he is very dear to me ; and you cannot doubt, my sweet 
 girl, my affection for yourself. Tell me^ therefore, the cause 
 of this little misunderstanding." 
 
 Miss Beaufort took courage at this speech. Drying her 
 glowing eyes, though still concealing them with a handker- 
 chief, she replied in a firmer voice, " I believe, sir, the 
 fault Ues totally on my side. The Count Sobieski met me 
 on the terrace, and thanked me for what I had done for 
 hira. I acted very weakly ; I was confused. Indeed I 
 know not what he said ; but he fell upon his knees, and I 
 became so disconcerted, — so frightened, of his having attri- 
 buted my behaviour to indelicacy or forwardness, that I 
 answered something which offended him : and, I am sure, 
 he now thinks me inhuman and proud." 
 
 Sir Robert kissed her throbbing forehead, as she ended 
 this rapid and hardly articulate explanation. 
 
 "■ Tell me candidly, my dearest Mary I" said he ; "^ can 
 you believe that a man of Sobieski's disposition Avould kneel 
 E E 4
 
 424 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 to a woman whom he did not both respect and love ? Simple 
 gratitude, my dear girl^ is not so earnest. You have said 
 enough to convince me, whatever may be your sentiments, 
 that you are the mistress of his fate ; and if he should men- 
 tion it to me, may I tell him the scene which has now passed 
 between us ? May I tell him that its just inference would 
 requite his tenderness with more than your thanks and best 
 wishes ? " 
 
 Miss Beaufort, who believed that the Count must now 
 despise her, looked down to conceal the wretchedness which 
 spoke through her eyes, and with a half-suppressed sigh, 
 answered, " I will not deny that I deeply esteem the Count 
 Sobieski. I admired his character before I saw him ; and 
 when I saw him, although ignorant that it was he, my re- 
 spect increased. Yet, I never have aspired to any share in 
 his heart, or even liis remembrance : I could not have the 
 presumption. Therefore, my dear uncle," added she, lay- 
 ing her trembling hand on his arm, " I beseech you, as 
 you value my feelings, my peace of mind ! never to breathe 
 a syllable of my weakness to him. I think," added she, 
 clasping her hands with energy, and forgetting the force of 
 her expression, " I would sooner suffer death than lose his 
 esteem." 
 
 " And yet," enquired Sir Robert, " you will at some 
 future period give your hand to another man ? " 
 
 Mary, who did not consider the extent of this insidious 
 question, answered with fervour, " Never. — I never can 
 be happier than I am," added she, with breathless haste ; 
 seeing, by the smile on Sir Robert's lips, that far more had 
 been declared by her manner than the words intended. 
 Fearful of betraying herself farther, she begged permission 
 to retire to the house. 
 
 The Baronet took her hand, and reseating her by him, 
 said, " No, my dearest Mary ; you shall not leave me, 
 unless you honestly avow what are your true sentiments 
 of the (Jount Sobieski. You know, my sweet girl, that I 
 have tried to make you regard me as a father ; to induce 
 you to receive from my love the treble affection of your 
 deceased parents, and my lamented wife. If my dear 
 niece do not deny tliisj she cannot treat me with reserve."
 
 TIIADDEIS OF WARSAW. 425 
 
 Miss Beaufort was unable to restrain her tears. Sir 
 Robert continued — 
 
 " I will not overwhelm your delicacy by repeating the 
 enquiry, whether 1 have mistaken the source of your recent 
 emotion ; only allow me to bestow some encouragement 
 on the Count's attachment, should he claim my services in 
 its behalf." 
 
 Mary snatched her uncle's hand to her lips ; and whilst 
 her dropping tears fell ui)on it, threw herself impetuously 
 on her knees, and replied in a timid voice — " I shoidd be 
 a monster of ingratitude, could I hide any thing from you, 
 my dearest sir, after this goodness ! I confess, that I do 
 regard the Count Sobieski more than any being on earth. 
 Who could see and know him, and think it possible to love 
 another } " 
 
 " And you shall be his ! my darling Mary ! " cried the 
 Baronet, mingling his own blissful tears with hers ; " I 
 once hoped to have contrived an attachment between you 
 and Pembroke, but Heaven has decreed it better. ^Vllen 
 you and Thaddeus are united, I shall be happy ; I may 
 then die in peace." 
 
 Miss Beaufort sighed heavily. She could not participate 
 in her uncle's rapture. She thought that she had insulted 
 and disgusted the Count by her late behaviour ; and was 
 opening her lips to urge it again, when the object of their 
 conversation appeared at a little distance coming towards 
 them. Full of renewed trepidation, she burst from the 
 Baronet's hand ; and taking to flight, left her uncle to 
 meet Sobieski alone. 
 
 Sir Robert's anxious question received a more rapid re- 
 ply from Thaddeus than had j)roceeded from the reluctant 
 Miss Beaufort. The animated gratitude of Sobieski, the 
 ardent, yet respectful manner, with which he declared her 
 eminence above all other women, soon convinced the Ba- 
 ronet that Mary's retreating delicacy had misinformed her. 
 A complete explanation was the consequence ; and Thad- 
 deus, who had not been more sanguine in his hopes than 
 his lovely mistress was in hers, allowed the clouds over his 
 sunny eyes to disappear. 
 
 Impatient to see these two beings, so dear to his heart, 
 repose confidently in each other's attoction, the moment Sir
 
 426 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 Robert returned to the house, he asked his sister for Miss 
 Beaufort. Mrs. Dorothy replied, that she had seen her 
 about an hour ago retire to her oAvn apartments ; the Ba- 
 ronet, therefore, sent a servant to beg she woidd meet him 
 in the library. 
 
 This message found her in a paroxysm of distress. She 
 reproached herself for her imprudence, her temerity, her 
 unwomanly conduct, in having given away her heart to a 
 man who never had required it. She remembered that her 
 weakness, not her sincerity, had betrayed this humiliating 
 secret to Sir Robert ; and nearly distracted, she lay on the 
 bed, almost hoping she was in a miserable dream, when her 
 maid entered with the Baronet's commands. 
 
 Disdaining herself, and determining to regain some por- 
 tion of her own respect, by steadily opposing all her uncle's 
 deluding hopes, with an assumed serenity she arrived at the 
 study-door. She laid her hand on the lock, but the mo- 
 ment it yielded to her touch, all her firmness vanished ; and 
 trembling, and pale as death, she appeared before him. 
 
 Sir Robert, having supported her to a chair, with the 
 most affectionate and delicate expressions of paternal affec- 
 tion repeated to her the sum of his conversation with the 
 Count. Mary was almost Avild at this discourse. So in- 
 consistent and erratic is the passion of love, when it reigns 
 in a woman's breast, she forgot, in an instant, the looks and 
 voice of Thaddeus ; she forgot her terror of having forfeited 
 him by her affected coldness alone ; and dreading that the 
 first proposal of their union had proceeded from her uncle, 
 she buried her agitated face in her hands, and exclaimed, 
 " O sir ! I fear that you have made me for ever hateful in my 
 own eyes, and despicable in those of the Count Sobieski !" 
 
 Sir Robert tried to assure her that she alarmed herself 
 without a cause ; but she would not, she could not be pa- 
 cified : she believed that her delicacy had been made a rash 
 sacrifice ; and was sitting gloomily weeping on a window- 
 seat, when the Baronet gently added, " "Well, Mary, since 
 I cannot prevail over this strange incredulity, I will call in 
 a more powerful pleader." 
 
 He rose and opened the door which led to the dining- 
 room. Miss Beaufort instantly got up, and flying to the 
 opposite door, would have retreated, had not Sir Robert
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 427 
 
 suddenly thrown himself in her way. He threw his arm 
 about her waist, and turning her round, she saw the Count, 
 who had entered, regarding her with an anxiety which co- 
 vered her before pale features with blushes. 
 
 His father bid him come near. Sobieski obeyed, though 
 with a step that expressed how reluctant he was to oppress 
 the woman he so truly loved. Mary's face was now hidden 
 in her imcle's bosom. Sir Robert put her almost lifeless 
 hand into that of his son, Avho, dropping on his knee, said 
 in an agitated voice, '' Dearest JMiss IJeaufort, do you really 
 recall the cruel words of this morning ? May I indulge 
 myself in the idea that I am blessed with your esteem ?" 
 I She could not reply, but whispered her uncle, " Pray, sir, 
 desire him to rise ! I am already sufficiently overwhelmed." 
 
 " JMy sweet Mary !" returned the Baronet, pressing her 
 in his arms, " this is no time for deception on either side. 
 I know both your hearts. Rise, Thaddeus," said he to the 
 Count, whilst he locked both their hands within his: " Take 
 him, Mary ! receive from your uncle his most precious gift 
 — my matchless and injured son." 
 
 The shock which the first part of this speech occasioned 
 Miss Beaufort would have sunk her exhausted spirits to 
 insensibility, had not the extraordinary assertion at its end, 
 and Sir Robert's audible sobs, aroused and surprised her. 
 
 '' Your son ! " exclaimed she : " what do you mean, my 
 TUicle .'' " 
 
 " Thaddeus will explain all to you," returned he. " May 
 Heaven bless you both ! " 
 
 Mary was too much astonished to think of following her 
 agitated uncle out of the room. She sunk on a seat, and 
 turning her eyes full of amazement towards the Count, 
 seemed to demand an explanation. Thaddeus, who still 
 retained her passive hand, pressed it warmly to his heart ; 
 and whilst his effulgent eyes were beaming transport and 
 love, he imparted to her a concise but impressive narrative 
 of his relationship with Sir Robert. He touched with short, 
 yet ardent, enthusiasm on the virtues of his mother ; he 
 acknowledged the unbounded gratitude which was due to 
 that God who had so wonderfully conducted him to find a 
 parent and a home in England ; and with renewed pathos
 
 428 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 of look and manner ratified the proffer which Sir Robert 
 had made of his heart and hand. 
 
 Mary listened witli uncontrollable emotion to this inter- 
 esting detail. Her eyes overflowed : their ingenuous lan- 
 guage^ enforced by the eloquent blood which glowed on her 
 cheek, did not require the medium of words to declare what 
 was passing in her mind. Thaddeus gazed on her with a 
 certainty of bliss, Avhich penetrated his soul until its rap- 
 tures almost amounted to pain. The heart may ache with 
 joy : neither sighs nor language could express what passed 
 in the Count's: he held her hand to his lips: his other arm 
 fell unconsciously round her waist ; and in a moment he 
 found that he had pressed her to his breast. His heart beat 
 violently. Miss Beaufort rose instantaneously from her 
 chair ; but her pure nature needed no disguise ; she looked 
 up to him, whilst her blushing eyes were shedding tears of 
 delight, and pronounced in a trembling voice, " Tell my 
 dear uncle, that ]\Iary Beaufort glories in the means by 
 which she becomes his daughter." 
 
 She moved to the door : Thaddeus, whose full tide of 
 transport denied him utterance, only clasped her hands again 
 to his lips and bosom ; then, relinquishing them, he suffered 
 her to quit the room. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 The magnificent establishment which this projected union 
 offered to Sobieski seemed to heal the yet bleeding con- 
 science of Sir Robert Somerset. Although he had acqui- 
 esced in the Count's generous surrender of the family 
 honours, his heart remained ill at ease. Every dutiful ex- 
 pression from this long- neglected son stabbed him with 
 unavailing remorse. Conscious that his criminal marriage 
 with Pembroke's mother deprived the son of Therese of his 
 just inheritance, he could never meet Sobieski's filial atten- 
 tions witliout enduring pangs of self-reproach which em- 
 bittered all his joy. Miss Beaufort's avowed and returned 
 affection at once removed the sting of this incessant recol- 
 lection : mistress of immense wealth, her hand would not 
 only put the injured Thaddeus in possession of the pure
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 429 
 
 delights which are dependent on mutual sympathy, hut 
 would empower his munificent spirit again to exert itself in 
 tlie disposal of an almost princely fortune. 
 
 Such meditations having followed the now tranquillised 
 Baronet to his pillow, they brought him into the breakfast- 
 parlour next day full of that calm pleasure which jjromises 
 a steady continuance. The happy family were assembled. 
 Mrs. Dorothy saluted her brother, whose brightened eye 
 declared that he had something pleasant to communicate ; 
 and he did not keep her in suspense. AVith the first dish 
 of coffee which was poured out, his grateful heart unbur- 
 dened itself of the delightful tidings, that, before the pre- 
 sent month should expire, Miss Beaufort would give her 
 hand to the Count Sobieki. Pembroke was the only hearer 
 who did not express surprise at this declaration. The trans- 
 ported Thaddeus had flown to his bed-side the preceding 
 night, and with a bounding and enraptured heart related 
 the recent scenes. 
 
 During Sir Robert's animated speech, Mary's blushing, 
 yet triumphant eyes, sought a veil in a branch of geranium 
 which she held in her trembling hand, and affected to 
 smell. 
 
 Mrs. Dorothy rose from her chair : her smiling tears 
 spoke more than her lips, when she pressed, first her niece, 
 and then the Count Sobieski, in her venerable arms. 
 
 " Heaven bless you both ! " cried she. " This marriage 
 will be the glory of my age." 
 
 Miss Beaufort turned from the embrace of her aunt, to 
 meet the warm congratulations of Tembroke. AVhilst he 
 kissed her burning cheek, he whispered loud enough for 
 every one to hear, " And why may 1 not participate in my 
 good aunt's triumph ? Attempt it, dear i\Iary ! If you 
 can persuade my father to allow me to make myself as 
 happy with Lady Albina Stanhope as you will render So- 
 bieski, I shall for ever bless you !" 
 
 Lady Albina coloured like scarlet. Sir Robert took her 
 hand with a smile of pleased surprise. " Do you, my lovely 
 guest — do you sanction what this bold boy has just said ? " 
 
 Lady Albina made no answer; but, blushing deeper than 
 before, cast a side-long glance at Pembroke, as if to peti- 
 tion his support. lie was at her side in an instant ; then
 
 430 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 seriously and earnestly entreating his father's consent to an 
 union with his cousin (whose approbation of his passion he 
 had obtained the preceding day in the shepherd's hut), he 
 awaited with hoping anxiety the sounds which seemed fal- 
 tering on Sir Robert's Ups. 
 
 The Baronet, quite overcome by his darling Pembroke 
 having, like his brother, disposed of his heart so much to 
 his own honour, found himself unable to say what he 
 wished ; and joining the hands of the two young people 
 in silence, hurried out of the room. He ascended to the 
 library, where, kneeling down, he returned devout thanks 
 to that all-gracious Being, who crowned one so unworthy 
 with blessings so conspicuous. 
 
 Thaddeus, no less than his father, remembered the hand 
 which, having guided him through a thorny but short path 
 of sorrow, had, in the end, conducted him to an Eden of 
 bHss ; his heart did not forget, even in the midst of gaiety 
 and smiles, the ardent gratitude which was due to the bene- 
 ficent Dispenser of his hapjiiness. 
 
 Before the lapse of a week, it was discovered that Sir 
 Robert must hasten the marriage of Pembroke Avith Lady 
 Albina, or be forced by law to yield her to the demands of 
 her father. After much search. Lord Tinemouth learned 
 that his daughter was under the protection of Sir Robert 
 Somerset. Liflamed Avith rage and revenge, he sent to 
 order her immediate return, under pain of an instantaneous 
 appeal to the courts of judicature. 
 
 Too well aware that her non-age laid her open to the 
 realising of this threat. Lady Albina fell into the most 
 alarming fits on the first communication of the message. 
 Sir Robert urged that in her circumstances no authority 
 could be opposed to the Earl's, excepting that of a hus- 
 band's ; and on this consideration, she complied with his 
 arguments and the prayers of her lover, directly to give that 
 power into the hands of Pembroke. 
 
 Accordingly, next morning by day-break, accompanied 
 by Mrs. Dorothy and the enraptured Mr. Somerset, the ter- 
 rified Lady Albina commenced her journey to Scotland ; 
 that being the only place where, in her situation, the mar- 
 riage could be legally solemnised. 
 
 AV^hilst these young runaways, chaperoned by an old
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 431 
 
 maiden aunt, were pursuing their rapid flight to Gretna 
 Green, Sir Robert sent his steward to London, to prepare 
 two houses, near Ids own in (irosvenor Square, for the re- 
 ception of his children. During these necessary arrange- 
 ments, a haj)py fortnight elapsed at Deerhurst. Thrice 
 happy to Mary, because its tranquil hours imparted to her 
 captive heart " a sober certainty of tluit ivukhiy W/.v.y," 
 which had so often animated the visions of her imagin- 
 ation. Morning, noon, and evening, the companion of the 
 Count Sobieski, she saw, with added enthusiasm, that the 
 sublime and princely virtues did not reign alone in his 
 bosom. Their insufferable brightness was rendered less 
 intense, was beautifully veiled by the softening shades of 
 those gentle amiabilities which are the soothers and sweet- 
 eners of life. His breast seemed the residence of love ; of 
 a love, that not only infused a warmer existence through her 
 soul, but diftused such a light of benevolence over every 
 being within its influence, that all appeared happy who 
 caught a beam of his eye ; all enchanted who shared the 
 magic of his smile. Under what different effects had she 
 seen this man ! Yet how consistent ! At the first period of 
 their acquaintance, she beheld him, like that glorious orb 
 which her ardent fancy told her he resembled, struggling 
 with the storm, or looking with steady grandeur through 
 the clouds which obscured his path : but now, like the ra- 
 diant sun of summer amidst a splendid sky, he seemed to 
 stand the source of light, and love, and joy. i 
 
 Thus did the warm fancy and warmer heart of i^Iary 
 Beaufort paint the image of her lover; and, when Sir Robert 
 received intelligence that the Gretna Green party had arrived 
 in town, and were impatient for the company of the dear 
 inhabitants of Deerhurst, on preparing to return to the gay 
 world, she confessed that some embers of human frailty did 
 sparkle in her bosom, at the anticipation of witnessing the 
 homage which they, who had despised the unfriended Con- 
 stantine, would pay to the declared and illustrious Sobieski. 
 
 The news of Lady Albina's marriage enraged the Earl of 
 Tinemouth almost to madness. Well aware that his with- 
 holding her fortune would occasion no uneasiness to a family 
 of Sir Robert Somerset's vast possessions, he gave way to still 
 more vehement bursts of passion; and in a fit of impotent
 
 432 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 
 
 threatening embarked with all his household to spend the 
 remainder of the season on his estates in Ireland. 
 
 This abrupt departure of the Earl caused Lady Albina 
 little uneasiness. His unremitted cruelty, her brother's in- 
 difference, and the barbed insults of Lady Sophia Lovel, 
 rankled too deeply to leave any filial regret behind. Consi- 
 dering their absence a suspension of pain, rather than a 
 punishment, she did not stain the kiss which she imprinted 
 on the venerable cheek of her new parent with one tear to 
 the memory of her unnatural father. 
 
 Whilst all was preparation, splendour, and happiness in 
 Grosvenor Square, Thaddeus did not forget the excellent 
 Mrs. Robson. He hastened to St. Martin's Lane, where the 
 good woman received him with open arms. Nancy hung, 
 crying for joy, upon his hand ; and sprung rapturously about 
 his neck, when he told her, he was now a rich man and 
 that she and her grandmother should live with him forever. 
 " I am going to be married, my dear INIrs. Robson," said he ; 
 " that angel who visited you when I was in prison, has 
 wiped away all tears from my eyes." Drying the cheek of 
 his weeping landlady as he spoke with his own handkerchief, 
 he continued — " She commanded me not to leave you, until 
 you had assured me you will brighten our happiness by 
 taking possession of a pretty cottage which is close to her 
 house in Kent. It is within Beaufort Park ; and there my 
 Mary and myself will visit you continually. 
 
 " Blessed Mr. Constantine ! " cried the worthy woman, 
 pressing his hand, " myself, my Nancy, — we are yours; — 
 take us where you please; — for wherever you go, there will 
 the Almiyhtys hand lead us, and there will his right hand 
 hold us." 
 
 The Count rose and turned to the window : his heart was 
 fidl ; and he was obliged to take time to recover himself, 
 before he could resume the conversation. He saw her twice 
 after this ; and on the day of her departure for Kent, he put 
 into her hand the first quarterly payment of an annuity, 
 which would henceforward afford her every comfort, and 
 raise her to that easy rank in society which her gentle man- 
 ners and rare virtues were so admirably fitted to adorn. 
 Neither did he neglect Mr. Burket. It was not in his na- 
 ture to allow any who had served him to pass unrequited.
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 433 
 
 He visited him on the clay he called in St. Martin's Lane ; 
 and having repaid hiin^ with a generosity which astonished 
 even the good money-lender, he took liis sword, with the 
 other relics of what were once so dear; anil pressing them 
 mournfully yet gratefully to his breast, re-entered Sir Ro- 
 bert's carriage, and drove home. 
 
 Next day, Thaddeus directed his steps to Dr. Cavendish's. 
 lie found Ids worthy friend at home, who received him with 
 kindness. But how was that kindness increased to transport, 
 when Thaddeus told him, with a smiling countenance, that 
 he was tlie very Sobieski, about Avhose wayward fate he had 
 asked so many ill-answered questions ! The delighted Doctor 
 embraced him with an ardour which spoke, better than lan- 
 guage, his admiration and esteem. His amazement having 
 subsided, he was discoursing with animated interest on events, 
 at once so fatal and so glorious to Sobieski, when a gentle- 
 man was announced by the name of Mr. Hopetown. He 
 entered ; and Dr. Cavendish at the same time introducing 
 Thaddeus as the Count Sobieski, Mr. Hopetown fixed his 
 eyes upon him with an expression which neither of the friends 
 could comprehend. A little disconcerted at the mercliant's 
 rudeness, the good Doctor attempted to draw off the steadi- 
 ness of his gaze by asking how long he had been in England. 
 
 " I left Dantzic," replied he, " about a fortnight ago ; 
 and I should have been in London five days ago, but a fa- 
 vourite horse of mine, which I brought with me, fell sick at 
 Harwich ; and I waited until he was well enough to travel." 
 
 "Whilst he spoke, he never withdrew his eyes from the 
 face of Thaddeus ; who at the words Dant:::'w and horse re- 
 collected his faithful Saladin ; and almost hoj)ing that this 
 Mr. Hopetown might prove to be the Briton to whom he 
 had consigned the noble animal, he took a part in the con- 
 versation, by enquiring of the merchant whether he were a 
 resident of Dantzic. 
 
 " No, my Lord," replied he : " I live within a mile of 
 it. Several years ago I quitted the smoke and bustle of the 
 town, to enjoy fresh air and quiet." 
 
 " Last year," rejoined Sobieski, " I passed through 
 Dantzic in my way to England. I believe I saw your 
 house, and remarked its situation : the park is beautiful." 
 
 F F
 
 434 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 " And I am indebted. Count," resumed the merchant, 
 " to a nobleman of your country for its finest ornament : 
 I mean the very horse I spoke of just now. He was sent 
 to me one morning, with a letter from his brave owner, 
 requesting me to give him sheher in my park. He is the 
 most beautiful animal I ever beheld ; and, unwilling to leave 
 so valuable a deposit, when I came to England, I brought 
 him with me." 
 
 " Poor Saladin !" cried Thaddeus, his heart overflowing 
 with remembrance ; " how glad I shall be to see thee ! "' 
 
 " What ! was the horse yours } " asked Dr. Cavendish, 
 surprised at this apostrophe. 
 
 " Yes," returned Thaddeus, " he was mine ! and I owe 
 to Mr. Hopetown a thousand thanks for his generous ac- 
 quiescence with the prayers of an unfortunate stranger." 
 
 " No thanks to me. Count Sobieski. The moment I 
 entered this room, I recollected you to be the same Polish 
 officer I had observed on the beach at Dantzic. When I 
 described your figure to the man who brought the horse, he 
 said it was the same who gave him the letter. I could not 
 learn your Lordship's name ; but I hoped one day or other 
 to have the pleasure of meeting you again, and of returning 
 Saladin into your hands in as good condition as when he 
 came to mine." 
 
 Tears started into the eyes of Thaddeus. 
 
 " That horse, Mr. Hopetown, has carried me through 
 many a bloody field ; he alone witnessed my last adieu to 
 the bleeding corpse of my country ! I shall receive him 
 again as an old and dear friend ; but to his kind protector, 
 how can I ever demonstrate the whole of my gratitude ? " * 
 
 " To have had it in my power to serve the Count 
 Sobieski, is a privilege of itself," returned Mr. Hopetown. 
 
 • The love of Thaddeus to his horse has had some resemblances, in the 
 author's knowledge, in yet more recent times. For it seems to belong to the 
 bravo heart of every country in our civilised Europe, as well as to that of the 
 wild Arab of the desert, to companion itself with his war-steed as with a friend 
 or brother. 1 knew more than one gallant man, who wept over the doom of 
 his hor<e, when shot in the lines near Corunna ; and another, oftlie same and 
 other fields, who never can mention, without turning pale, the name o! his 
 faithful and beloved horse Columbus ; who had carried him through various 
 dangers on the South American Cnntinent, and at last perished at his side 
 during a tremendous storm at .sea, when no exertions of his master could save 
 him. Ihese are pangs of which only tho.se who have the generous sensibility 
 to feel them can have any idea. IJut tliey are true to tlie noble nature of 
 which the inspired page speaks, whoa it says, " The just man is merciful to 
 his beast."
 
 TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW. 435 
 
 " I am proud of that distinction ; and to be called the 
 friend of a man whom all the world honours, will be a title 
 which John Hopetown would not exchange to be made 
 sovereign of the Indies !" 
 
 Before the worthy merchant took his leave, he promised 
 Thaddeus to send Saladin to Grosvenor Square that evening; 
 and to accompany Dr. Cavendish to meet the Count, the 
 following day at diimer, at Mr. Somerset's." 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 Lady Albina Somerset's arrival in London was greeted by 
 the immediate visits of all the people in town who had been 
 acquainted with the late Countess of Tinemouth, or known 
 to the Baronet's family. Amongst the earliest names whose 
 tickets appeared at her door, were those of Lord Berrington, 
 Captain and Mrs. Montresor, and Ur. Blackmore. Lady 
 Albina did not propose opening her gates to the gay world, 
 until JMiss Beaufort and the Count were married, and both 
 bridal parties had been presented at Court; but having 
 heard Pembroke speak with particular respect of the select 
 few mentioned above, when she took the list of her nume- 
 rous visiters out of the porter's hand, she requested that 
 these might be the first who should grace her table. To 
 this group of friends, Thaddeus informed the fair bride, 
 that he had taken the liberty to add Dr. Cavendish and Mr. 
 Hopetown of Dantzic. 
 
 ^V'hen the Count alighted at Mr. Somerset's door on the 
 appointed day, he was rejoiced to see so many happy coun- 
 tenances. Lady Albina received Dr. Cavendish and I\Ir. 
 Hopetown with graceful hospitality. But the lovely Mary 
 taking the hand of the generous protector of Saladin, pressed 
 it warmly ; and accompanied the action with a sincere 
 avowal of her interest in every thing that was attached to 
 the Count. Sobieski turned to meet Lord Berrington, and 
 the ever lively Maria Egerton (now Mrs. Montresor), who 
 both ran up to him at the same instant, to express their joy 
 at not only seeing him again, but in a situation so consonant 
 to his fame and quaUty. 
 
 F F 2
 
 436 
 
 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 Thaddeus replied to their felicitations with a frankness 
 and grace peculiarly his own ; and was not a little surprised 
 when Dr. Blackmore, a moment afterwards, recognised him 
 to be the stranger who had so much engaged his attention 
 about a twelvemonth before. The Count did not recollect 
 the circumstance, until the good doctor brought the very 
 hour to his remembrance, by mentioning the Hummums ; 
 and recapitulating the rudeness of the man in black, whose 
 name, he said, he had since learnt was Loftus. 
 
 Pembroke could hardly hear the worthy clergyman to an 
 end. He exclaimed against his vile tutor's indefatigable 
 villany ; and turning to Sir Robert, exclaimed, " My dear 
 sir, the recent happy events have hitherto averted justice 
 from seizing this man ; but I must beg that his connection 
 with any thing belonging to us may end to-morrow. Write 
 to him, and order him to resign his situation at Aran House 
 immediately." 
 
 The Baronet promised ; and Sobieski, trying to change 
 a conversation which agitated his brother, addressed Mrs. 
 Montresor on some general topic. Capt. Montresor joined 
 them, and expressed great regret at the loss he should 
 shortly suffer in the absence of his friend Capt. Roos. 
 
 " How ? Whither is he going ?" demanded his wife. 
 
 Montresor replied, by lamenting the ill state of Lady 
 Sara Roos's health, and the necessity which her husband 
 found to carry her to Italy for its restoration. 
 
 " I met him this morning," continued he, " in despair 
 about her." 
 
 Thaddeus too well divined that this increased indispos- 
 ition owed its rise to his return to town ; and, inwardly 
 petitioning Heaven that absence might complete her cure, 
 he could not suppress the sigh which her fatal devotedness 
 to him wrung from his pity and his gratitude. 
 
 No one present, except the affectionate Mary, marked the 
 transient melancholy which passed over his countenance. 
 She, who had suspected the unhappy Lady Sara's attach-. 
 ment, loved Thaddeus, if possible, still dearer, for the com- 
 jiassion he bestowed on the victim of a passion, which is as 
 inscrutable as destructive. 
 
 When the party descended to dinner, Mrs. Dorothy, who 
 sat next to ThaddeuSj rallied him ujion the desertion of one
 
 THADDEUS OP WARSAW. 437 
 
 of his most dauntless admirers. This strange attack, fol- 
 lowing so closely the information relating to Lady Sara 
 Roos, summoned a fervid colour into the face of tlie Count : 
 he looked surprised and rather confusedly at the good old 
 lady, who, smiling, related what she had been told that 
 morning by her milliner, of IVIiss Euphemia Dundas hav- 
 ing married a Scotch nobleman at Hamilton. 
 
 " So much the better for Miss Beaufort ! " cried Pem- 
 broke : " her jealous fears may noAv be at an end : little 
 Phemy was no contemptible rival. Besides, Albina," said 
 he, turning gaily to her Ladyship, " you may congratulate 
 yourself on the same score. I hear that an old friend of 
 mine is going to take her loving sister off' my hands. Come, 
 Lord Berrington, you must validate my report, for I learnt 
 it of you." 
 
 His Lordship smiled, and answered in the affirmative; 
 adding, that a friend of his had written to him as news, 
 that " the eldest son of Sir Halerand Shafto was on the 
 point of marriage with jMiss Dundas, who was visiting my 
 Lady Shafto, his mother." 
 
 Sobieski wished them happy. Lord Berrington protested 
 the Count was more generous than just. 
 
 " 1 vow to Heaven," cried his Lordship, " I never knew 
 people, the aim of whose lives seemed so bent on mischief. 
 Euphemia, pretty as she is, was better known by her spirit 
 of tormenting, than by her beauty ; and as for the poor 
 squire whom Diana has conjured into matrimony, I have 
 little doubt of his future honours. ' 
 
 "Ah !" cried Mrs. Montresor, "poor Acteon ! I war- 
 rant she will allot him the punishment he merits, for step- 
 ping between her and that delectable Endymion fool, Las- 
 celles !" 
 
 " A truce, my dear madam !" entreated Miss Beaufort. 
 
 " She does not deserve it of you," returned the laughing 
 lady, pursuing the subject ; until Mrs. Dorothy and Sir 
 Robert Somerset were obliged to call loudly upon charity. 
 
 Thaddeus, who knew not the nature of that disposition 
 which rejoices over the probable misconduct of our enemies, 
 thought this part of the conversation by far the least pleasant 
 of the day. 
 
 Pembroke's wish with regard to Mr. Loftus was com-
 
 438 THADDEUS OF WARSAW. 
 
 plied with next morning. Dr. -Blackmore having been 
 prevailed upon to take charge of the young Lord Arun, re- 
 luctantly bore the mandate for his predecessor's dismission, 
 and set out the same day for the seat of his Lordship's 
 aunt. 
 
 Whilst Sir Robert Somerset denounced the guilty, he 
 was careful neither to plunge him into fresli temptations, 
 nor to suffer his crimes to injure the innocent. In pity to 
 age and helplessness, he settled two hundred pounds per 
 annum on the wretched man's mother and sisters in ^V^ales. 
 And shortly after, in consequence of Loftus's confessing 
 that all Pembroke's allegations were but too just. Sir Robert 
 adjudged one hundred more to be yearly paid to the culprit 
 himself ; that, at least, he might not be induced to obtain 
 subsistence by new villanies. As for the living of Somer- 
 set, which had been the price of Mr. Loftus's integrity, that 
 Sir Robert determined to bestow on Dr. Blackmore when- 
 ever it should fall. 
 
 The appointed day being arrived in which Miss Beaufort 
 "was to give herself, and her earthly happiness, into the 
 power of the only man to whom (having once beheld him) 
 she could ever have resigned them, she pronounced her 
 vows at the altar with unsteadiness of tongue, but a fixed 
 heart. And when she alighted at her own paternal man- 
 sion in Kent, she received the congratulations of the old 
 domestics, with a tenderness, an elevation of soul, which 
 drowned her glowing and enraptured face in tears. 
 
 ]\Irs. Robson, and the joyous little Nanny dressed in a 
 white frock for the occasion, threw themselves at her feet, 
 at the entrance of the drawing-room; — and sobbed forth 
 their happiness in the Count's arms ; who gently raised 
 them both ; and embracing them with filial tenderness, 
 hailed the old lady as a parent ; and the sweet girl, as an 
 adopted child. 
 
 Sobieski was fuUy sensible to all the duties, all the pri- 
 vileges, all the joys of the favoured path which Providence 
 now spread before him. He had passed through hosts of 
 evils, and he now looked forward to a long sabbath of peace 
 and gratitude. He found it at Beaufort Hall. He enjoyed 
 its full possession, when he returned to town, and saw his 
 beautiful wife at the head of fashion ; not only adorning
 
 i/k 
 
 
 I^ 
 
 THAUDEUS OF WARSAW. 439 
 
 kii? Ii. filling his home with all the ineflPable com- 
 
 j^Hqiis oi (1 nil ^lic life, and domestic virtues. 
 
 jbtthh tiiK' evening in which they were out together, she 
 tiefl tlie caiii:me to stop in Covent-Garden. AVhen it 
 dTe»;uj), slic t xpitssed a wish to walk through the church- 
 ward.' Tliaddeus complied; and before he had time to 
 express hisuiJurprise at the strangeness of her request, she 
 kdi-liim towards the gi-ave of his revered friend liutzou. It 
 was m> longer the same ; a white marble tablet occupied the 
 plaowof £»rass and yarrow. The Count bent forward, and 
 re^d, with swimming eyes, the following inscription : — 
 
 ''" ' ^ ;), Traveller, thou treadest on a Hero ! 
 
 Here 
 rests the Body 
 
 of 
 ■1 I Lieutenant- General Buxzoir. 
 
 f^' ' -oul was pierced. Incapable of speaking, he 
 
 led 1 : ack to her carriage; and placing her within 
 
 ft, rla.-,[>(.d licr suddenly and fondly to his breast. His tears 
 gublte^l out^ in spite of himself, and mingling with hers, 
 poured thqpc -thanks, those assurances of animated appro- 
 natu)n tiiiouij;h her heart, as made it even ache with excess 
 of happiness.* 
 
 ' fTDiiis mutually endeared, we leave the family of Sir 
 ftooert Spmtiset. Me leave Tliaddeus Sobieski, blessed in 
 ffie fi iiition of every earthly good. The Virtues, the Muses, 
 and {he Chai-ities, were the guests at his table. Misfortune 
 could "nc^ yc^ Genius from his eyes ; nor Calamity obscure 
 fh^e 1)1 i^litness of the just. Though banished from his na- 
 tive cpuhtry, where his birth gave him dominion over rich 
 ierriti)riL's, now in ruins ; and a once numerous and happy 
 people, now no more; — he had not yet relinquished the 
 love of empire. — But it was not over principalities, and 
 embattled hosts, that he wished to extend the sceptre of 
 
 • To see thiiJ ta<»il>, many were tlie visitants to the eliurchyard described, 
 for a consider»l>lo time after the publication of the work; and the sexton of 
 tlic period bus often lamented the unaccountable circumstance which must 
 have Ti moveil ;ui object that brought him so much profit, even in search of it. 
 Subsiq\iriit altirations, on a more extensive scale, have now obliterated the 
 very - i lnwly dwelling in St. Martin's Lane, which had become an 
 
 objc' ruriosity. Kiit the author would fain hope the same oblivion 
 
 will I ,11 lot of tile humble individuals, the ]>ossessors of that house, 
 
 Itho ruaiiy iiaii ■■ tlie local habitation and the name; " and were the hospitable 
 iuKd tender soothers of " the poor and noble destitute."
 
 440 THADDEUS OF WARSAW, ' / 
 
 command: — he wished to reign in the soul: — lii^ JiVonttl 
 was in the hearts of the Good, the Amiable, andahc [iutoD^ 
 tunate. The Unhappy of every rank and nation, ifrttiid 
 refuge, consolation, and repose, amongst the 'ehaftes ba6 
 Beaufort. No eye looked wistfully on him, to turii|a««y 
 and weep ; no voice addressed him with .the qietitiou ef 
 distress, to close it with the sigh of disappoiiitiueiit; his 
 smiles cheered the disconsolate; and his protecting liaribasi 
 warded off the approach of new sorrows. " Ptac^uis tnthiir 
 his walls, and jjlenteousness within his palaces." .Andpwheiij 
 a few eventful months distinguished their course- 'witli thet 
 death of the implacable destroyer of Poland, and General 
 Kosciuszko (who was set at liberty by her successor) arrived 
 in England, he was received with the warmest wekome by 
 his now happy friend: -^-" Ah, my dear General," cried he, 
 as he clasped the veteran to his breast ; " I anj indeed fa- 
 voured above mortals: — I see thee again, on who)n I l)elie^ed 
 the gates of a Russian prison had closed for ever ! -l hava 
 all that remains of my country pressing upon my luMit-! — ^ 
 all its valour, virtue, and heroism, is now within my i m > ! 
 — Kosciuszko, my friend, my father, bless your son,!^'' 
 
 Kosciuszko did bless him ; and embalmed the ncnecTicuorj 
 with a shower of tears, more precious than the lichest 
 unction that ever flowed on a royal head :-— they ^fe 
 drawn from the heart of a Hero. — Sobieski prisciitea ^ik 
 lovely wife to his illustrious friend; and whit;' In Hate- 
 fully acknowledged the rare fehcity of his fate, In owv/cu 
 that the retrospection of past misfortunes, like shade to a 
 picture, gives to our present bliss greater forcfe' and biigliu 
 ness. But, that the felicity was his, he could 'onlyascnoe 
 to the gracious providence of that God who "■" n-iffn tne 
 spirit of man',' — and can bring him to a j6y on earth, even 
 like the resurrection from the dead. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 * 
 
 
 rrintcd by A. & R. Spottiswoode, 
 
 Ncw-Strcct-Squarc. -^^ 
 
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 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
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