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r　who　was　second。　　Never　mind　my　age。　　It　boots　not　to　tell　it：　why　shall　I　expose　myself　to　your　scornful　incredulityor　reply　to　your　questions　in　words　that　are　familiar　to　you；　but　which　yet　you　cannot　understand？　　Words　are　symbols　of　things　which　you　know；　or　of　things　which　you　don't　know。　If　you　don't　know　them；　to　speak　is　idle。〃　　（Here　I　confess　Mr。　P。　spoke　for　exactly　thirty…eight　minutes；　about　physics；　metaphysics；　language；　the　origin　and　destiny　of　man；　during　which　time　I　was　rather　bored；　and；　to　relieve　my　ennui；　drank　a　half　glass　or　so　of　wine。）　　〃LOVE；　friend；　is　the　fountain　of　youth！　　It　may　not　happen　to　me　onceonce　in　an　age：　but　when　I　love；　then　I　am　young。　　I　loved　when　I　was　in　Paris。　　Bathilde；　Bathilde；　I　loved　theeah；　how　fondly！　　Wine；　I　say；　more　wine！　　Love　is　ever　young。　　I　was　a　boy　at　the　little　feet　of　Bathilde　de　Bechamelthe　fair；　the　fond；　the　fickle；　ah；　the　false！〃　　The　strange　old　man's　agony　was　here　really　terrific；　and　he　showed　himself　much　more　agitated　than　he　had　been　when　speaking　about　my　gr…ndm…th…r。　〃I　thought　Blanche　might　love　me。　　I　could　speak　to　her　in　the　language　of　all　countries；　and　tell　her　the　lore　of　all　ages。　　I　could　trace　the　nursery　legends　which　she　loved　up　to　their　Sanscrit　source；　and　whisper　to　her　the　darkling　mysteries　of　Egyptian　Magi。　I　could　chant　for　her　the　wild　chorus　that　rang　in　the　dishevelled　Eleusinian　revel：　I　could　tell　her　and　I　would；　the　watchword　never　known　but　to　one　woman；　the　Saban　Queen；　which　Hiram　breathed　in　the　abysmal　ear　of　SolomonYou　don't　attend。　　Psha！　you　have　drunk　too　much　wine！〃　　Perhaps　I　may　as　well　own　that　I　was　NOT　attending；　for　he　had　been　carrying　on　for　about　fifty…seven　minutes；　and　I　don't　like　a　man　to　have　ALL　the　talk　to　himself。　〃Blanche　de　Bechamel　was　wild；　then；　about　this　secret　of　Masonry。　In　early；　early　days　I　loved；　I　married　a　girl　fair　as　Blanche；　who；　too；　was　tormented　by　curiosity；　who；　too；　would　peep　into　my　closetinto　the　only　secret　I　guarded　from　her。　　A　dreadful　fate　befell　poor　Fatima。　　An　ACCIDENT　shortened　her　life。　　Poor　thing！　she　had　a　foolish　sister　who　urged　her　on。　　I　always　told　her　to　beware　of　Ann。　　She　died。　　They　said　her　brothers　killed　me。　　A　gross　falsehood。　　AM　I　dead？　　If　I　were；　could　I　pledge　you　in　this　wine？〃　〃Was　your　name；〃　I　asked；　quite　bewildered；　〃was　your　name；　pray；　then；　ever　Blueb？〃　〃Hush！　the　waiter　will　overhear　you。　　Methought　we　were　speaking　of　Blanche　de　Bechamel。　　I　loved　her；　young　man。　　My　pearls；　and　diamonds；　and　treasure；　my　wit；　my　wisdom；　my　passion；　I　flung　them　all　into　the　child's　lap。　　I　was　a　fool。　　Was　strong　Samson　not　as　weak　as　I？　　Was　Solomon　the　Wise　much　better　when　Balkis　wheedled　him。　　I　said　to　the　kingBut　enough　of　that；　I　spake　of　Blanche　de　Bechamel。　〃Curiosity　was　the　poor　child's　foible。　　I　could　see；　as　I　talked　to　her。　　that　her　thoughts　were　elsewhere　（as　yours；　my　friend；　have　been　absent　once　or　twice　to…night）。　　To　know　the　secret　of　Masonry　was　the　wretched　child's　mad　desire。　　With　a　thousand　wiles；　smiles；　caresses；　she　strove　to　coax　it　from　mefrom　MEha！　ha！　〃I　had　an　apprenticethe　son　of　a　dear　friend；　who　died　by　my　side　at　Rossbach；　when　Soubise；　with　whose　army　I　happened　to　be；　suffered　a　dreadful　defeat　for　neglecting　my　advice。　　The　young　Chevalier　Goby　de　Mouchy　was　glad　enough　to　serve　as　my　clerk；　and　help　in　some　chemical　experiments　in　which　I　was　engaged　with　my　friend　Dr。　Mesmer。　　Bathilde　saw　this　young　man。　　Since　women　were；　has　it　not　been　their　business　to　smile　and　deceive；　to　fondle　and　lure？　　Away！　　From　the　very　first　it　has　been　so！〃　　And　as　my　companion　spoke；　he　looked　as　wicked　as　the　serpent　that　coiled　round　the　tree；　and　hissed　a　poisoned　counsel　to　the　first　woman。　〃One　evening　I　went；　as　was　my　wont；　to　see　Blanche。　　She　was　radiant：　she　was　wild　with　spirits：　a　saucy　triumph　blazed　in　her　blue　eyes。　　She　talked；　she　rattled　in　her　childish　way。　　She　uttered；　in　the　course　of　her　rhapsody；　a　hintan　intimationso　terrible　that　the　truth　flashed　across　me　in　a　moment。　　Did　I　ask　her？　　She　would　lie　to　me。　　But　I　know　how　to　make　falsehood　impossible。　　Add　I　ORDERED　HER　TO　GO　TO　SLEEP。〃　At　this　moment　the　clock　（after　its　previous　convulsions）　sounded　TWELVE。　　And　as　the　new　Editor*　of　the　Cornhill　Magazineand　HE；　I　promise　you；　won't　stand　any　nonsensewill　only　allow　seven　pages；　I　am　obliged　to　leave　off　at　THE　VERY　MOST　INTERESTING　POINT　OF　THE　STORY。

*　Mr。　Thackeray　retired　from　the　Editorship　of　the　Cornhill　Magazine　in　March；　1862。

PART　III。

〃Are　you　of　our　fraternity？　　I　see　you　are　not。　　The　secret　which　Mademoiselle　de　Bechamel　confided　to　me　in　her　mad　triumph　and　wild　hoyden　spiritsshe　was　but　a　child；　poor　thing；　poor　thing；　scarce　fifteenbut　I　love　them　younga　folly　not　unusual　with　the　old！〃　（Here　Mr。　Pinto　thrust　his　knuckles　into　his　hollow　eyes；　and；　I　am　sorry　to　say；　so　little　regardful　was　he　of　personal　cleanliness；　that　his　tears　made　streaks　of　white　over　his　gnarled　dark　hands。）　〃Ah；　at　fifteen；　poor　child；　thy　fate　was　terrible！　　Go　to！　　It　is　not　good　to　love　me；　friend。　　They　prosper　not　who　do。　　I　divine　you。　　You　need　not　say　what　you　are　thinking〃　In　truth；　I　was　thinking；　if　girls　fall　in　love　with　this　sallow　hook…nosed；　glass…eyed；　wooden…legged；　dirty；　hideous　old　man；　with　the　sham　teeth；　they　have　a　queer　taste。　　THAT　is　what　I　was　thinking。　〃Jack　Wilkes　said　the　handsomest　man　in　London　had　but　half　an　hour's　start　of　him。　　And　without　vanity；　I　am　scarcely　uglier　than　Jack　Wilkes。　　We　were　members　of　the　same　club　at　Medenham　Abbey；　Jack　and　I；　and　had　many　a　merry　night　together。　　Well；　sir；　IMary　of　Scotland　knew　me　but　as　a　little　hunchbacked　music…master；　and　yet；　and　yet；　I　think　SHE　was　not　indifferent　to　her　David　Rizand　SHE　came　to　misfortune。　　They　all　dothey　all　do！〃　〃Sir；　you　are　wandering　from　your　point！〃　I　said；　with　some　severity。　　For；　really；　for　this　old　humbug　to　hint　that　he　had　been　the　baboon　who　frightened　the　club　at　Medenham；　that　he　had　been　in　the　Inquisition　at　Valladolidthat　under　the　name　of　D。　Riz；　as　he　called　it；　he　had　known　the　lovely　Queen　of　Scotswas　a　LITTLE　too　much。　　〃Sir；〃　then　I　said；　〃you　were　speaking　about　a　Miss　de　Bechamel。　　I　really　have　not　time　to　hear　all　your　biography。〃　〃Faith；　the　good　wine　gets　into　my　head。〃　　（I　should　think　so；　the　old　toper！　　Four　bottles　all　but　two　glasses。）　　〃To　return　to　poor　Blanche。　　As　I　sat　laughing；　joking　with　her；　she　let　slip　a　word；　a　little　word；　which　filled　me　with　dismay。　　Some　one　had　told　her　a　part　of　the　Secretthe　secret　which　has　been　divulged　scarce　thrice　in　three　thousand　yearsthe　Secret　of　the　Freemasons。　　Do　you　know　what　happens　to　those　uninitiate　who　learn　that　secret？　to　those　wretched　men；　the　initiate　who　reveal　it？〃　As　Pinto　spoke　to　me；　he　looked　through　and　through　me　with　his　horrible　piercing　glance；　so　that　I　sat　quite　uneasily　on　my　bench。　He　continued：　〃Did　I　question　her　awake？　　I　knew　she　would　lie　to　me。　　Poor　child！　　I　loved　her　no　less　because　I　did　not　believe　a　word　she　said。　　I　loved　her　blue　eye；　her　golden　hair；　her　delicious　voice；　that　was　true　in　song；　though　when　she　spoke；　false　as　Eblis！　You　are　aware　that　I　possess　in　rather　a　remarkable　degree　what　we　have　agreed　to　call　the　mesmeric　power。　　I　set　the　unhappy　girl　to　sleep。　　THEN　she　was　obliged　to　tell　me　all。　　It　was　as　I　had　surmised。　　Goby　de　Mouchy；　my　wretched；　besotted；　miserable　secretary；　in　his　visits　to　the　chateau　of　the　Marquis　de　Bechamel；　who　was　one　of　our　society；　had　seen　Blanche。　　I　suppose　it　was　because　she　had　been　warned　that　he　was　worthless；　and　poor；　artful　and　a　coward；　she　loved　him。　　She　wormed　out　of　the　besotted　wretch　the　secrets　of　our　Order。　　'Did　he　tell　you　the　NUMBER　ONE？'　I　asked。　〃She　said；　'Yes。'　〃'Did　he；'　I　further　inquired；　'tell　you　the'　〃'Oh；　don't　ask　me；　don't　ask　me！'　she　said；　writhing　on　the　sofa；　where　she　lay　in　the　presence　of　the　Marquis　de　Bechamel；　her　most　unhappy　father。　　Poor　Bechamel；　poor　Bechamel！　　How　pale　he　looked　as　I　spoke！　　'Did　he　tell　you；'　I　repeated　with　a　dreadful　calm；　'the　NUMBER　TWO？'　　She　said；　'Yes。'　〃The　poor　old　marquis　rose　up；　and　clasping　his　hands；　fell　on　his　knees　before　Count　Cagl　　Bah！　I　went　by　a　different　name　then。　Vat's　in　a　name？　　Dat　vich　ve　call　a　Rosicrucian　by　any　other　name　vil　smell　as　sveet。　　'Monsieur；'　he　said；　'I　am　oldI　am　rich。　　I　have　five　hundred　thousand　livres　of　rentes　in　Picardy。　　I　have　half　as　much　in　Artois。　　I　have　two　hundred　and　eighty　thousand　on　the　Grand　Livre。　　I　am　promised　by　my　Sovereign　a　dukedom　and　his　orders　with　a　reversion　to　my　heir。　　I　am　a　Grandee　of　Spain　of　the　First　Class；　and　Duke　of　Volovento。　　Take　my　titles；　my　ready　money；　my　life；　my　honor；　everything　I　have　in　the　world；　but　don't　ask　the　THIRD　QUESTION。'　〃'Godefroid　de　Bouillon；　Comte　de　Bechamel；　Grandee　of　Spain　and　Prince　of　Volovento；　in　our　Assembly　what　was　the　oath　you　swore？'〃　The　old　man　writhed　as　he　remembered　its　terrific　purport。　〃Though　my　heart　was　racked　with　agony；　and　I　would　have　died；　ay；　cheerfully〃　（died；　indeed；　as　if　THAT　were　a　penalty！）　〃to　spare　yonder　lovely　child　a　pang；　I　said　to　her　calmly；　'Blanche　de　Bechamel；　did　Goby　de　Mouchy　tell　you　secret　NUMBER　THREE？'　〃She　whispered　a　oui　that　was　quite　faint；　faint　and　small。　　But　her　poor　father　fell　in　convulsions　at　her　feet。　〃She　died　suddenly　that　night。　　Did　I　not　tell　you　those　I　love　come　to　no　good？　　When　General　Bonaparte　crossed　the　Saint　Bernard；　he　saw　in　the　convent　an　old　monk　with　a　white　beard；　wandering　about　the　corridors；　cheerful　and　rather　stout；　but　madmad　as　a　March　hare。　　'General；'　I　said　to　him；　'did　you　ever　see　that　face　before？'　　He　had　not。　　He　had　not　mingled　much　with　the　higher　classes　of　our　society　before　the　Revolution。　　I　knew　the　poor　old　man　well　enough；　he　was　the　last　of　a　noble　race；　and　I　loved　his　child。〃　〃And　did　she　die　by？〃　〃Man！　did　I　say　so？　　Do　I　whisper　the　secrets　of　the　Vehmgericht？　　I　say　she　died　that　night：　and　hehe；　the　heartless；　the　villain；　the　betrayer；you　saw　him　seated　in　yonder　curiosity…shop；　by　yonder　guillotine；　with　his　scoundrelly　head　in　his　lap。　〃You　saw　how　slight　that　instrument　was？　　It　was　one　of　the　first　which　Guillotin　made；