the depths
of a mysterious pocket.

"You behaved like a real hero of romance," Isabelle said in an undertone
to de Sigognac, "and I feel that under your protection we can travel
securely; how bravely you attacked that bandit single-handedly when you
had every reason to believe that he was supported by an armed band."

"You overestimate my little exploit," the baron replied modestly, "there
was no danger worth mentioning," then sinking his voice to a whisper,
"but to protect you I would meet and conquer giants, put to flight a
whole host of Saracens, attack and destroy dragons and horrid monsters;
I would force my way through enchanted forests filled with snares and
perils, such as we read of, and even descend into hell itself, like
Aeneas of old. In your dear service the most difficult feats would be
easy; your beautiful eyes inspire me with indomitable courage, and your
sweet presence, or even the bare thought of you, seems to endue me with
a super-human strength."

This was, perhaps, rather exaggerated, but perfectly sincere, and
Isabelle did not doubt for a moment that de Sigognac would be able to
accomplish fabulous deeds of prowess in her honour and for her sake;
and she was not so very far wrong, for he was becoming hourly more
passionately enamoured of her, and ardent young lovers are capable of
prodigies of valour, inspired by the fair objects of their adoration.

Serafina, who had overheard some of the baron's impassioned words, could
not repress a scornful smile; so many women are apt to find the fervid
protestations of lovers, when addressed to others than themselves,
supremely ridiculous, yet they joyfully receive the very same
protestations, without detecting anything in the least absurd in them
when whispered into their own ears. For a moment she was tempted to try
the power of her many charms, which she believed to be irresistible,
with the young baron, and win him away from Isabelle; but this idea was
speedily rejected, for Serafina held beauty to be a precious gem that
should be richly set in gold--the gem was hers, but the golden setting
was lamentably wanting, and poor de Sigognac could not possibly furnish
it. So the accomplished coquette decided not to interfere with this
newly-born love affair, which was "all very well for a simple-minded
young girl like Isabelle," she said to herself, with a disdainful smile
and toss of the head.

Profound silence had fallen upon the party after the late exc