“Wretch! hypocrite! whited sepulchre!” he said to himself,—­“to warn this innocent child against a sin that is all the while burning in my own bosom!  Yes, I do love her,—­I do!  I, that warn her against earthly love, I would plunge into hell itself to win hers!  And yet, when I know that the care of her soul is only a temptation and a snare to me, I cannot, will not give her up!  No, I cannot!—­no, I will not!  Why should I not love her?  Is she not pure as Mary herself?  Ah, blessed is he whom such a woman leads!  And I—­I—­have condemned myself to the society of swinish, ignorant, stupid monks,—­I must know no such divine souls, no such sweet communion!  Help me, blessed Mary!—­help a miserable sinner!”

Agnes left the confessional perplexed and sorrowful.  The pale, proud, serious face of the cavalier seemed to look at her imploringly, and she thought of him now with the pathetic interest we give to something noble and great exposed to some fatal danger.  “Could the sacrifice of my whole life,” she thought, “rescue this noble soul from perdition, then I shall not have lived in vain.  I am a poor little girl; nobody knows whether I live or die.  He is a strong and powerful man, and many must stand or fall with him.  Blessed be the Lord that gives to his lowly ones a power to work in secret places!  How blessed should I be to meet him in Paradise, all splendid as I saw him in my dream!  Oh, that would be worth living for,—­worth dying for!”

* * * * *

THE AQUARIUM.

The sumptuous abode of Licinius Crassus echoes with his sighs and groans.  His children and slaves respect his profound sorrow, and leave him with intelligent affection to solitude,—­that friend of great grief, so grateful to the afflicted soul, because tears can flow unwitnessed.  Alas! the favorite sea-eel of Crassus is dead, and it is uncertain whether Crassus can survive it!

This sensitive Roman caused his beloved fish to be buried with great magnificence:  he raised a monument to its memory, and never ceased to mourn for it.  So say Macrobius and Aelian.

This man, we are told, who displayed so little tenderness towards his servants, had an extraordinary weakness concerning his fine sea-eels.  He passed his life beside the superb fish-pond, where he lovingly fattened them from his own hand.  Nor was his fondness for pisciculture exceptional in his times.  The fish-pond, to raise and breed the finest varieties of fish, was as necessary an adjunct to a complete establishment as a barn-yard or hen-coop to a modern farmer or rural gentleman.  Wherever there was a well-appointed Roman villa, it contained a piscina; while many gardens near the sea could boast also a vivarium, which, in this connection, means an oyster-bed.