e modest young girl
felt that there could be no impropriety in this little indulgence; and
besides, the baron's extreme timidity was very reassuring to her, and
she knew that he would not presume upon the favour accorded to him. He
had not made a formal avowal of his love to her, but she was as well
aware of it as if he had, and also of his profound respect for her,
which sentiment is indeed always an accompaniment of a worthy passion.
She knew herself beloved--the knowledge was very sweet to her--and
she felt herself safe from all fear of offence in the company of this
honourable gentleman and true lover. With the delicious embarrassment
of nascent, unavowed love, this young couple wandering by moonlight in
a lonely garden, side by side, arm in arm, only exchanged the most
insignificant, commonplace remarks; but if no undercurrent was betrayed
by actual words, the trembling, voices, long pauses, stifled sighs,
and low, confidential tones told of strong emotions beneath this quiet
surface.

The chamber assigned to the beautiful Yolande de Foix, near that of Mme.
la Marquise, was on this side of the chateau, overlooking the park, and
after she had dismissed her maid, she went to the window to look out
once more upon the exceeding beauty of the night, and caught sight of
de Sigognac and Isabelle, pacing slowly back and forth on the terrace
below, without any other company than their own shadows. Assuredly the
disdainful Yolande, haughty as a goddess, could never have felt anything
but scorn for our poor young baron, past whom she had sometimes flashed
in a whirlwind of light and noise in the chase, and whom she had so
recently cruelly insulted; but still it displeased her to see him
devoting himself thus to a beautiful young girl, to whom he was
undoubtedly making love at that very moment. She had regarded him as
her own humble vassal--for she had not failed to read the passionate
admiration in his eyes whenever they met her own--and could not brook
his shaking off his allegiance thus; her slaves ought to live and die in
her service, even though their fidelity were never rewarded by a single
smile. She watched them, with a frowning brow, until they disappeared,
and then sought her conch in anything but a tranquil mood, haunted by
the lover-like pair that had so roused her wrath, and still kept her
long awake.

De Sigognac escorted Isabelle to the door of her chamber, where he bade
her good-night, and as he turned away t