first sight, and looked very eerie in the dim,
flickering light of the one small lamp.

"What a capital scene it would make for the fifth act of a tragedy,"
said Serafina, as she looked curiously about her, while poor little
Isabelle shivered with cold and terror. They all crept into bed without
undressing, Isabelle begging to lie between Serafina and Mme. Leonarde,
for she felt nervous and frightened. The other two fell asleep at
once, but the timid young girl lay long awake, gazing with wide-open,
straining eyes at the door that led into the shut-up apartments beyond,
as if she dreaded its opening to admit some unknown horror. But it
remained fast shut, and though all sorts of mysterious noises made her
poor little heart flutter painfully, her eyelids closed at last, and she
forgot her weariness and her fears in profound slumber.

In the other room the pedant slept soundly, with his head on the table,
and the tyrant opposite to him snored like a giant. Matamore had rolled
himself up in a cloak and made himself as comfortable as possible
under the circumstances in a large arm-chair, with his long, thin legs
extended at full length, and his feet on the fender. Leander slept
sitting bolt upright, so as not to disarrange his carefully brushed
hair, and de Sigognac, who had taken possession of a vacant arm-chair,
was too much agitated and excited by the events of the evening to be
able to close his eyes. The coming of two beautiful, young women thus
suddenly into his life--which had been hitherto so isolated, sad and
dreary, entirely devoid of all the usual pursuits and pleasures of
youth--could not fail to rouse him from his habitual apathy, and set his
pulses beating after a new fashion. Incredible as it may seem yet it was
quite true that our young hero had never had a single love affair. He
was too proud, as we have already said, to take his rightful place among
his equals, without any of the appurtenances suitable to his rank, and
also too proud to associate familiarly with the surrounding peasantry,
who accorded him as much respect in his poverty as they had ever shown
to his ancestors in their prosperity. He had no near relatives to come
to his assistance, and so lived on, neglected and forgotten, in his
crumbling chateau, with nothing to look forward to or hope for. In
the course of his solitary wanderings he had several times chanced to
encounter the young and beautiful Yolande de Foix, following the hounds
on h