“It is another murder, sir, at the old town councilor’s, Albernass; and this time they have made a clear house of it.”

“God preserve us!  Has a curse been pronounced upon this city?  What can be done?  What are the magistrates going to do?”

“I don’t know, sir.  I have orders to run to the Black Friars, where another meeting is gathering.  Shall I say you will attend, sir?”

“Yes—­no—­stop a little.  No matter, you may go on; I’ll follow immediately.”

I went instantly to Maximilian’s room.  He was lying asleep on a sofa, at which I was not surprised, for there had been a severe stag chase in the morning.  Even at this moment I found myself arrested by two objects, and I paused to survey them.  One was Maximilian himself.  A person so mysterious took precedency of other interests even at a time like this; and especially by his features, which, composed in profound sleep, as sometimes happens, assumed a new expression, which arrested me chiefly by awaking some confused remembrance of the same features seen under other circumstances and in times long past; but where?  This was what I could not recollect, though once before a thought of the same sort had crossed my mind.  The other object of my interest was a miniature, which Maximilian was holding in his hand.  He had gone to sleep apparently looking at this picture; and the hand which held it had slipped down upon the sofa, so that it was in danger of falling.  I released the miniature from his hand, and surveyed it attentively.  It represented a lady of sunny, oriental complexion, and features the most noble that it is possible to conceive.  One might have imagined such a lady, with her raven locks and imperial eyes, to be the favorite sultana of some Amurath or Mohammed.  What was she to Maximilian, or what had she been?  For, by the tear which I had once seen him drop upon this miniature when he believed himself unobserved, I conjectured that her dark tresses were already laid low, and her name among the list of vanished things.  Probably she was his mother, for the dress was rich with pearls, and evidently that of a person in the highest rank of court beauties.  I sighed as I thought of the stern melancholy of her son, if Maximilian were he, as connected, probably, with the fate and fortunes of this majestic beauty; somewhat haughty, perhaps, in the expression of her fine features, but still noble—­generous—­ confiding.  Laying the picture on the table, I awoke Maximilian, and told him of the dreadful news.  He listened attentively, made no remark, but proposed that we should go together to the meeting of our quarter at the Black Friars.  He colored upon observing the miniature on the table; and, therefore, I frankly told him in what situation I had found it, and that I had taken the liberty of admiring it for a few moments.  He pressed it tenderly to his lips, sighed heavily, and we walked away together.