eans to induce her to reciprocate the ardent love that
filled his heart for her, not for an instant suspecting that it was
already a fait accompli, and that the sweet, pure maiden had given him,
unasked, her gentle, faithful heart. The bashful young baron imagined
all sorts of romantic and perilous incidents in which he might
constitute himself her knight and protector, and show such brave and
tender devotion to her as he had read of in the old books of chivalry;
and which might lead up to the avowal he was burning to make, yet dared
not. It never occurred to him that the look in his dark eyes whenever
they rested on her face, the tone of his voice when he addressed her,
the deep sighs he vainly sought to stifle, and the tender, eager care
with which he strove to anticipate her every wish had spoken for him,
as plainly as any words could do; and that, though he had not dared to
breathe one syllable of his passionate love to Isabelle, she knew it,
rejoiced in it, and was proud of it, and that it filled her with a
delicious, rapturous joy, such as she had never felt before, or even
dreamed of.

The morning began to break--the narrow band of pale light on the
horizon, which was growing rapidly brighter and assuming a rosy tinge,
was reflected here and there in the little pools of water that shone
like bits of a broken mirror scattered over the ground--distant sounds
were heard, and columns of smoke rising into the still morning air
proved that even in this desolate, God-forsaken part of the Landes there
were human habitations to be found. Stalking along with giant strides on
the highest part of some rising ground not very far off was a grotesque
figure, clearly defined against the bright eastern sky, which would have
been a puzzle to a stranger, but was a familiar sight to de Sigognac--a
shepherd mounted on his high stilts, such as are to be met with
everywhere throughout the Landes.

But the young baron was too much absorbed in his own engrossing
thoughts to take any note of his surroundings as he kept pace with the
slow-moving chariot, until his eye was caught and his attention fixed by
a strange little point of light, glittering among the sombre pines that
formed the dense grove where we left Agostino and Chiquita sleeping.
He wondered what it could be--certainly not a glow-worm, the season for
them was past long ago--and he watched it as he advanced towards it with
a vague feeling of uneasiness. Approaching nearer he