"No, fair torturer! you, Lady, and you alone, who caused the malady, can cure it!"
"My Lord, seek out one more deserving of the honour which you so nobly proffer me, but I never can be yours; nor shall I ever give my hand unless I also can give my heart. And now, my Lord, farewell, accept my humble gratitude and sincerest thanks for the high distinction which you have so graciously paid me, and which I shall ever remember with the utmost respect and gratitude."
Having so said, Lady Adelaide deeply courtesied, and withdrew.
"Odds my life now," exclaimed the disappointed peer, "but this is most passing strange, supersingular, and not to be matched! What, refuse the heir apparent of an earldom, (and with modesty let me express it,) with my person and qualifications! Insufferable! It is not to be endured!"
As Lord Eyrecourt, much discomfitted, departed from the Rue Ducale, he met the Duke d'Aremberg going in that direction; they saluted as they passed, while he continued his sorrowful soliloquy:—
"The Lady Adelaide is downright mad to refuse me; but it seems she soars at higher game, and looks to 'the pride of place.' She said she would never give her hand without bestowing her heart, doubtless then this honour she has already conferred upon the youthful d'Aremberg.—It is but too fatally evident! Oh, woe is me to come out in the cold air of the morn, before the world had become well warmed; and finally thus to be so totally eclipsed! Oh, some ominous morning I shall be found hanging from the top of Saint Michael's Tower, or my unfortunate corpse be seen floating in the Antwerp canal!
Ne'er gallant peer more miserable was undone,
Like extinguish'd star I set 'fore the rise of sun!"