of the
rose-tree and kissed it.

"But the Chateau des Anges is not five leagues away. I will go there. I
will go now. I will learn what all this means."

With this resolution he ran fleetly down the slopes of the park, now
wreathed in the rising mists of night, towards the feudal village of
Charrebourg, through which his path lay.

Breathless and eager, as if heaven were before him and all the fiends of
hell at his heels, he sped through the darkening town, and did not
slacken his speed until he was a full mile beyond it.

He had been so absorbed with the single idea that had seized upon his
mind, that he was scarcely conscious of the objects he had passed or the
speed at which he ran.

As he looked round upon the moonlit scenery among which he found
himself, he felt for a moment stunned and perplexed; he slackened his
pace and thought over his expedition. It lost none of its romantic
fascination; he only wondered that he had not made a journey to the
Chateau des Anges at least once in every week.

How beautiful the moonlight was! how soft the air! how enchanting the
scenery! and oh, what vague possibilities of glory and rapture might not
be unfolded in the undeveloped future of this wild excursion!

It was fully a quarter past twelve when Gabriel reached the point, at
which the road directly leading to the Chateau des Anges diverged from
that which he had been hitherto travelling. Just as he did so, a
carriage and four, with two postillions and two mounted servants beside,
came to a sudden stop within a few score paces of the pedestrian, and
one of the men dismounting secured some part of the harness which had
given way, and was getting into the saddle again when Gabriel arrived at
the side of the carriage. He then made a momentary pause. In the
brilliant moonlight every detail of the equipage was visible; the coach
was dingy and battered, its principal color blue, and covered, according
to the fashion, with gilded arabesques in cumbrous relief, in which a
curious dragon, with a barbed tongue and tail, was contending in a
hundred repetitions with as many little cupids. Just as these details
seized upon his imagination, the window was suddenly opened, and a lady
put out her head and in thrilling tones cried--

"Gabriel, Gabriel--save me, save me."

He saw Lucille's face; it was her voice that rang in his ears. He felt
his strength multiplied a hundred fold. He would have, single-handed,
fought an army in suc