clouds that Thaddeus could throw off his melancholy. The parting
grief of his mother hung on his spirits; and heavy and frequent were
his sighs while he gazed on the rustic cottages and fertile fields,
which reminded him that he was yet passing through the territories of
his grandfather. The picturesque mill of Mariemont was the last spot
on which his sight 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 object
of such romantic 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 the old man's features; and recollecting at the same
time the transports which he himself had enjoyed when he visited that
place more than twenty years before, 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 reason 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."