Chapter 28 - Page 2

it was rather a little love-pet than a quarrel of courtiers, and was terminated by a kiss on the fingers of the lady.

Suddenly, on perceiving Raoul, the lady became silent, and pushing away the officer, “Make your escape, Malicorne,” said she; “I did not think there was any one here. I shall curse you if they have either heard or seen us!”

Malicorne hastened away. The young lady advanced behind Raoul, and bending her joyous face over him, “Monsieur is a gallant man,” said she, “and no doubt-” She here interrupted herself by uttering a cry,- “Raoul!” said she, blushing.

“Mademoiselle de Montalais!” said Raoul, more pale than death.

He rose unsteadily and tried to make his way across the slippery mosaic of the floor; but she had comprehended that savage and cruel grief. She felt that in the flight of Raoul there was an accusation, or at least a suspicion against herself. A woman, ever vigilant, she did not think she ought to let the opportunity slip of making a justification; but Raoul, though stopped by her in the middle of the gallery, did not seem disposed to surrender without a combat. He took it up in a tone so cold and embarrassed that if they had been thus surprised, the whole court would have had no doubt about the proceedings of Mademoiselle de Montalais.

“Ah, Monsieur,” said she, with disdain, “what you are doing is very unworthy of a gentleman. My heart inclines me to speak to you; you compromise me by a reception almost uncivil. You are wrong, Monsieur; and you confound your friends with your enemies. Farewell!”

Raoul had sworn never to speak of Louise, never even to look at those who might have seen Louise; he was going into another world that he might never meet with anything Louise had seen, or anything she had touched. But after the first shock to his pride, after having had a glimpse of Montalais, the companion of Louise,- Montalais, who reminded him of the turret of Blois and the joys of youth,- all his reason left him.

“Pardon me, Mademoiselle; it enters not, it cannot enter into my thoughts to be uncivil.”

“Do you wish to speak to me?” said she, with the smile of former days. “Well! come somewhere else; for here we may be surprised.”

“Where?” said he.

She looked at the clock doubtingly, then, having reflected, “In my apartment,” said she; “we shall have an hour to ourselves.” And taking her course, lighter than a fairy, she ran up to her chamber, followed by Raoul. Shutting the door, and placing in the hands of her maid the mantle she had held upon her arm, “You were seeking M. de Guiche, were you not?” said she to Raoul.

“Yes, Mademoiselle.”

“I will go and ask him to