A letter arrived from France; it was sealed with black. They opened it hastily and fearfully; and they had cause. Madame de Bourblanc was dead; she was suddenly cut off, to render an account before her Creator. The shock was too great for poor Amalie. Day by day she languished, pining in heart for sunny France. Three months after she had reached England, Amalie died. Her last words were, “My mother!”
Soon after, her old mother followed her. Oh, that the purified spirits of them all may meet in heaven! Jane is the sole survivor of this domestic tragedy. Even she may have departed to the haven of eternal rest, for she left my mother shortly after we were settled in London. We have never seen her since.
THE GAME OF CHESS.—A SCENE IN THE COURT OF PHILIP THE SECOND.
THE ESCURIAL.
King Philip the Second was playing at chess in the palace of the Escurial. Ruy Lopez, a priest of the ordinary rank, who was most expert at this game, was his majesty’s antagonist. The player was allowed to kneel, by special privilege, while the nobles stood round as spectators. There was something in their attitudes betokening an engagement of mind too anxious to be called forth by the mere interest of the game. It was a splendid morning, and the air was redolent with perfume not less sweet than that exhaled by the orange-groves of Granada. The violet-colored curtains of the magnificent saloon softened the powerful rays of the sun as they darted through the casements. The bright, cheerful light seemed at this moment but ill to accord with the mood of the king, whose gloomy brow seemed to grow darker and darker, like the tempest brooding on the lofty Alpuxares. He frowned as he frequently glanced toward the entrance of the saloon. The nobles remained silent, exchanging looks of mutual intelligence. The assembly was any thing but a cheerful one, and it was easy to perceive that some grave affair occupied the thoughts of all present. None appeared to pay attention to the chess save Ruy Lopez, who, with his eyes fixed on the board, was deliberating between a checkmate and the deference due to his most Catholic Majesty Philip the Second, Lord of the Territories of Spain and its Dependencies. Not a sound was heard but the slight noise made by the players as they moved their pieces, when the door was suddenly thrown open, and a man of rude and sinister aspect advanced toward the king, and in lowly
reverence waited permission to address him. The appearance of this man was most forbidding; his entrance caused a general sensation. The nobles drew haughtily back, allowing their feelings of disgust for a moment to overpower their sense of etiquette. One would have supposed some fierce and loathsome beast had suddenly come among them; and certainly he was well calculated to excite such feelings. His figure was tall, bony, and of Herculean dimensions, clad in a black leather doublet. His coarse features, unlighted by a ray of intelligence, betrayed tastes and passions of the most degraded character, while a large, deep scar, reaching from the eyebrow to the chin, till lost in a thick black beard, added to the natural ferocity of his countenance.
Philip turned to address him, but his faltering voice gave evidence of some unusual emotion. An electric shock passed through the whole assembly. The fact was, that this new arrival, who seemed the very personification of physical force, was Fernando Calavarex, executioner in Spain.
“Is he dead?” demanded Philip, at last, in an imperious tone, while a shudder ran through the assembly.
“Not yet, sire,” replied Fernando Calavarex, as he bent before the monarch, who frowned angrily; “he claims his privilege as a grandee of Spain, and I can not proceed to do my office upon a man in whose veins flows the hidalgo-blood without having further orders from your majesty.”