France, and I never knew what had become of him.
"Perhaps," said I to myself, "thou wilt meet thy friend here, in the bosom of his family. He always loved thee, and there is no doubt, but he will give us a good reception."
Delighted with these thoughts I was jogging on, when Don Fernandos cried, "Stop Carlos, your saddle is loose! You'll be down in a moment!"
Art this instant I was stopping to alight, when a young lady, with a book in her hand, attracted my sight in the garden of the castle, and set my heart in a strong palpitation, She had on a green straw-hat, tied with a white ribband, which floated negligently on her heaving bosom; her complexion was beautiful, and her brown hair descended in ringlets down to her waist; a long white robe covered her slender shape, fastened With a green sash and her hands seemed to rival the alpine snow in whiteness.
Hearing the trot of horses, she lifted her beauteous eyes from the book, and acciden-
