C. MARLOWE.

* * * * *

THE IDIOT LOVER.

(DRAWN FROM LIFE.)

(For the Mirror.)

  “That man that hath a tongue, I say, is no man,
  If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.”

John Laconi was born in the romantic country of Switzerland.  He was educated tolerably well; he was a good musician, and could draw excellently.  He possessed a small, though independent fortune.  However, notwithstanding his advantages and acquirements, he proved, when he became a lover, to be an idiot.

At a certain period of his life, he fell violently in love with a beautiful young Swiss lady.  She was considerably younger than our hero, was much taller, and her elegant refinements rendered her a very desirable object.  John had a sister, to whom the young lady paid frequent friendly visits, and upon such occasions, owing probably to that mauvaise honte, with which he was cursed, he was usually absent from home.  I will not disgust my fair readers with a minute description of all his absurdities; one example, or so, shall suffice.

One fine evening, in the month of June, after spending the day with Laconi’s sister, the young lady prepared to return alone to her father’s chateau, at the distance of about a mile; and on this occasion, John determined to give a specimen of his gallantry in escorting the fair one home, resolving likewise to declare his passion in plain terms.  Accordingly, having put on his hat and cloak, and stationed himself at the gate, he appeared as formidable as any doughty knight in the days of romance, ready to offer his protection to some forlorn damsel.  No sooner, however, did the lady appear, than he became so confused as not to be able to answer her greeting.  She was also confused for a moment at his manner, but immediately began her walk with much disgust and nonchalance; while he, like a silly valet de chambre, followed behind, leaving his dear mistress’ questions unanswered, and gazing with a vacant stare at the moon.  At length, to the lady’s infinite satisfaction, the white gate of her father’s chateau appeared in view, and John, finding they had nearly reached their destination, articulated, in a half suffocated tone, “I—­I beg pardon, ma—­madam, I have been considering—.”  “You have, indeed, Mr. John,” quickly returned the smiling damsel, “but I think you might have chosen another opportunity, more seasonable than the present, to consider the moon!” To this retort, he said nothing, but looked extremely foolish and ridiculous.  However, when they had actually gained the gate of the chateau, he boldly resolved to kiss his fair enslaver; but, after a moment, his resolution failed, and his legs tottered under him.  Without hearing the lady’s sweet “good night,” as she tripped gaily from him, he exclaimed, “Madam, can you love me?” This appeal was not heard by the flying maiden, who hastily ascended the steps to her father’s door, which opened and concealed her lovely form from the sight of the amazed lover, who had not courage sufficient to follow her.