Mattakesa was punctual to the promise she had made in her letter; and when she came into the room, where she usually found the gentlemen altogether, it being that where they dined, and saw not Horatio, she doubted not but he had observed her directions, and pretended himself indisposed, so asked for him, expecting to be told that he was ill; but when they answered that he was gone with one of the keepers to the top of the round tower, in order to satisfy his curiosity in taking a view of the town, she was confounded beyond expression, and could not imagine what had occasioned him to slight an assignation, she had flattered herself he would receive with extacy.

As she was in a little resvery, endeavouring to comprehend, if possible, the motive of so manifest a neglect, Mullern drew near to her, and beginning to speak of the beauties of that fine city which the czar had erected in the midst of war, he told her, that having a little skill in drawing, he had ventured to make a little sketch of it in chalk on the walls of the room where he lay, and entreated her in the most gallant manner to look upon it, and give him her opinion how far he had done justice to an edifice so much admired.

It cannot be supposed that Mattakesa had in her soul any curiosity to see a work of this nature, yet, to hide as much as she could the disorder she was in at her disappointment, gave him her hand, in order to be concluded to the place where he pretended to have been exercising his genius.

As soon as they were entered he threw the door, as if by incident, which having a spring lock, immediately was made fast—­She either did not, or seemed not to regard what he had done; but casting her eyes round the room, and seeing nothing of what he had mentioned,—­Where is this drawing? cried she.  In my heart, adorable Mattakesa, answered he, falling at her feet at the same time:—­it is not the city of Petersburg, but the charming image of its brightest ornament, that the god of love has engraven on my heart in characters too indelible ever to be erased:—­from the first moment I beheld those eyes my soul has been on fire, and I must have consumed with inward burnings had I not revealed my flame:—­pardon, continued he, the boldness of a passion which knows no bounds; and tho’ I may not be so worthy of your love as the too happy Horatio, I am certainly not less deserving of your pity.

Surprize, and perhaps a mixture of secret satisfaction prevented her from interrupting him during the first part of his discourse; but rage, at the mention of Horatio, forced from her this exclamation:—­has the villain then betrayed me! cried she.—­No, madam, replied he, justice obliges me to acquit him, tho’ my rival.—­He had the misfortune, in putting your billet into his pocket, to let it fall; I took it up unseen by him,—­opened it, read it, and must confess, that all my generosity to my friend was wholly swallowed up in my passion for you.—­I returned not to him that kind