arose in Francesca's mind; and yet to give it words, should she be mistaken, would be cruelly embarrassing.
"It must not go unpunished," exclaimed the Duchesse, as if answering to her own thoughts. "Yes, mine is the best plan; I will instantly go to my uncle, and ask him for a lettre de cachet. Solitary imprisonment in the Bastile will be the very thing for Mr. Evelyn."
"I think," replied Francesca, "that to give me pain is the farthest in the world from your wishes; and yet what could be more painful to me than anything like revenge on Mr. Evelyn?"
"Good Heavens!" interrupted Madame de Mercœur, "you cannot retain one spark of affection for him?"
"Indeed I do not. I speak from motives of pure selfishness. I wish, now, nothing of or from Mr, Evelyn but forgetfulness. I disdain his miserable conduct too much to resent it; and the only proof my friends can give me of sympathy in my feelings, is to show how unworthy they consider it to be of notice."
"Ah, but Francesca, a few months' solitary meditation would be of such infinite service to le perfide! it would bring him to his senses—per-
