THE MARTYRED PRINCESS .
FROM THE GERMAN.
THE Princess Josephine was the beauty of her father's court, rivalling even the matured splendor of her mother, the majestic Maria Theresa. When her sister, the Archduchess Caroline, who had been betrothed to the Duke of Parma, fell a victim to that then scourge of mankind, the small pox, Josephine was selected to fill her place, as much on account of her loveliness, as because her mother deemed that her soft and pliant disposition would render a fitting tool in her hand, to watch the intentions of the Court at Parma, and report them to the Queen of Hungary.
Of all this, however, Josephine was ignorant. She had heard much of the beauty and manly courage of her betrothed lover, and it was with a happy smile, therefore, that she stood before the altar and gave her hand to his ambassador. Never had she looked lovelier than on this occasion. Her clear and lofty brow ; her deep soft blue eyes; the quiet and soul-lit expression of her face, seemed now to be even more beautiful than they were wont to be ; while the delicate blush suffusing her fine countenance threw a charm around her indescribable. And when her father pressed her to his bosom, and blessed her, and the tears gushed into her melting azure eyes, the audience, who witnessed the ceremony, thought they had never seen one half so lovely.
That evening the Princess sat alone, for the last time, in her favorite boudoir. She held in her hand a miniature of her husband, and she blushed as she looked on the manly beauty of his face.
Suddenly fine music was heard ; they were playing an Italian air, slow and melancholy in its expression. Josephine knew the words of this music ; it painted tender and passionate love. She blushed as she looked at the portrait, which she held in her hand ; she looked forth, until the view was lost in the distance, perhaps to think over the future, dreaming as youth loves to do, when imagination lends its brilliant illusions to reality. These images of happiness enchanted her heart, when the door of the apartment opened. It was the Empress.
Josephine arose, strongly moved at the sight of her mother. Maria Theresa was cold and proud in her demeanor, she suffered no opposition to her will ; it was not to be wondered at, that the countenance of the Princess should express embarrassment and reverence, rather than childlike affection at the sight of her mother. The Empress seemed at present, however inclined to tenderness. When her daughter offered her a seat, she advanced, took the hand of the Princess kindly within her own, drew her towards her, and then scated herself with her in the recess of a window. She then immediately opened the conversation.
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"These are Italian books," she said, " and the music I heard is also Italian. Ah, dear child, do you already seek to forget us ? Alas, these bonds which are so strong amongst ordinary people, with us are weak, if not wholly broken. How often, dear daughter of my heart, must I have appeared cold and stern to you ! But the cares of the throne as seldom allow to me a cheerful brow, as an outpouring of the heart. Dear child, when far away thou thinkest of thy mother, remember the cares with which she is overwhelmed." Josephine was deeply moved. She seized the hand of the Empress and bathed it in tears. Her mother now ventured to hint to her daughter her wishes. She kissed that soft, confiding face, and said, "I know you love me, Josephine, and will do my will - hear me now !" and she proceeded to reveal to her daughter her wish that she—a Princess, and a wife ! — should become a spy in her husband's cabinet. At first Josephine listened in doubt, but as the truth broke upon her, she turned suddenly from her mother. At length she found words. " No, no," she cried, while she sank at the feet of the Empress, "to observe his actions ! to penetrate his most secret thoughts that I may lay the information before the Austrian Court ! to excite his confidence in order to betray it ! No, no, this cannot be my duty . My love would then be nothing but ——————” 66'Softly, softly, Princess," interrupted Maria Theresa, while she repressed with difficulty the anger that sparkled in her eyes, " I was not prepared for such a burst of romantic love." "The character of a spy," said the Duchess, as she raised herself with dignity, "does not suit a daughter of Maria Theresa." At this moment, the expression of her face, assumed a character of grandeur and pride, such as had never before been visible in it. Her brow hitherto always serene, became furrowed. One might have mistaken the Princess Josephine for the Empress. She, when she perceived her daughter look so much like herself, lost all hope of making her the docile instrument of her will. "I believe indeed ," she said with derisive laugh, " that the little Colonel has turned your head. But we have not yet learned to tolerate self-will and disobedience. Leave it to me to settle this business.” "Dear mother," cried Josephine, endeavoring to retain her, "for God's sake, do not leave me with such coldness." The Empress withdrew her hand-their eyes met. As the Princess caught a glance of the pale face of her mother, in which was painted an expression of concentrated bitterness, she fell back fainting on her seat. When she recovered her senses, she exclaimed sorrowfully, " it is broken !" as she looked at the fragments of the broken chain, to which the picture of the Duke of
