The young man began his meal with a careless, indifferent air, as if he either had no appetite or did not know what he was about.  The furniture of the apartment in which he sat presented odd and striking contrasts to an observer.  While some of the articles were remarkable for the richness and elegance of their modern style, there were chairs, tables, and cabinets whose sombre hue and elaborate carving denoted an antiquity of several centuries.  On the walls were numerous pictures, dimmed by smoke and time, encased in frames that had lost half their ornaments and gilding.  These were portraits of warriors, statesmen, priests, and prelates.  In the dim corners of the canvas armorial bearings of the house of De Vlierbeck might be seen, and many of the articles of furniture were embellished with the same blazonry.

We were told a while ago that a public sale at Grinselhof had dispersed among a crowd of competitors every thing that belonged to Monsieur De Vlierbeck.  How has it come to pass that these portraits have returned to their old nails on walls which they seemed to have abandoned forever?

The listless youth rose from the table, walked slowly about the room, stopped, looked mournfully at the portraits, recommenced his walk, and approached an antique casket placed on a bracket in the corner.  He opened it with apparent indifference and took out some simple jewelry,—­a pair of ear-rings and a coral necklace.  He gazed long at these objects as he held them in his hand; a few tears fell on them, a deep sigh escaped from his bosom, and he then replaced the jewels in their casket.

Quitting the room, he descended to the court.  Waiters and servant-maids saluted as he passed:  he acknowledged their civility by a silent nod and went forth to the most secluded parts of the garden.  Stopping at the foot of a wild chestnut-tree, he threw himself on the ground, where he sat long in moody reverie until aroused by the ringing voice of Bess, who approached him with a book in her hand:—­

“Here, sir, is a book which Mademoiselle Lenora used to read.  My goodman went yesterday to market, where he found the farmer who bought it at the sale.  After market was over John accompanied the peasant home, and would not leave him till he had bought the book back again.  I suppose it is an excellent book, as Mademoiselle used to love it so; and neither gold nor silver could ever get it from me if it wasn’t for you, sir.  Husband says it is called LUCIFER’!”

While she was running on, Gustave seized the book eagerly and ran over its pages without paying attention to what she said.  “Thank you, thank you for your kind attention, mother Bess!” said he.  “You can’t think how happy I am whenever I find any thing that belonged to your mistress.  Be assured that I will never forget your goodness.”  After offering this expression of his thanks to the farmer’s wife he opened the book again and began to read without heeding her further.  But the good woman did not go away, and soon interrupted him with a question:—­