Julia waited at her chamber window, which was not above three feet
from the ground without, her hood and mantle donned, listening
eagerly for the sound of her lover's voice; and the French girl
leant behind her against the closed door, nervously tearing to
fragments a piece of paper she had taken from her pocket a minute ago.
These torn atoms she flung upon the hearth, where a bright fire was
blazing, not observing that, meanwhile, Julia had opened the window-
casement. A gust of wind darting into the room from outside caught
up a fragment of the yet unconsumed paper and whirled it back from
the flames to Julia's feet. She glanced at it indifferently, but
the sight of some characters on it suddenly attracting her, she
stooped and picked it up.

It bore her name written over and over several times, first in rather
labored imitation of her own handwriting, then more successfully,
and, lastly, in so perfect a manner that even Julia herself was
almost deceived into believing it her genuine signature. Then
followed several L's and J's, as though the copyist had not considered
those initials satisfactory counterparts of the original.

Julia wondered, but did not doubt; and as she tossed the fragment
from her hand, Virginie turned and perceived the action. Instantly
a deep flush of crimson overspread the maid's face; she darted
suddenly forward, and uttered an exclamation of alarm. Her cry
was immediately succeeded by the sharp noise of a pistol report
beneath the window, and a heavy, muffled sound, as of the fall of
a body upon the snow-covered earth. Julia looked out in fear and
surprise. The leaping firelight from within the room streamed
through the window, and, in the heart of its vivid brightness,
revealed the figure of a man lying motionless upon the whitened