ion for a
monarch.

The road was so little used that it was grass-grown in many places, and
the chariot rolled so smoothly and noiselessly along over it that they
occasionally surprised a party of rabbits frolicking merrily together,
and were very much amused to see them scamper away, in as great a hurry
as if the hounds were at their heels. Farther on a frightened deer
bounded across the road in front of them, and they could watch its
swift, graceful flight for some distance amid the leafless trees.
The young baron was especially interested in all these things, being
country-bred, and it was a delight unspeakable to him to see the fields,
the hedgerows, the forest, and the wild creatures of the wood once more.
It was a pleasure he had been deprived of ever since he had frequented
cities and towns, where there is nothing to look at but dingy houses,
muddy streets and smoky chimneys--the works of man not of God. He would
have pined in them for the fresh country air if he had not had the sweet
companionship of the lovely woman he adored; in whose deep, blue eyes he
saw a whole heaven of bliss.

Upon emerging from the wood the road wound up a steep hill-side, so the
horses were stopped, to rest a few minutes before beginning the ascent,
and de Sigognac, profiting by the opportunity thus afforded him, said to
Isabelle, "Dear heart, will you get down and walk a little way with me?
You will find it a pleasant change and rest after sitting still in
the chariot so long. The road is smooth and dry, and the sunshine
deliciously warm--do come!"

Isabelle joyfully acceded to this request, and putting her hand into the
one extended to help her, jumped lightly down. It was a welcome means of
according an innocent tete-a-tete to her devoted lover, and both felt
as if they were treading on air, they were so happy to find themselves
alone together, as, arm in arm, they walked briskly forward, until they
were out of sight of their companions. Then they paused to look long and
lovingly into each other's eyes, and de Sigognac began again to pour out
to Isabelle "the old, old story," that she was never weary of hearing,
but found more heavenly sweet at every telling. They were like the first
pair of mortal lovers in Paradise, entirely sufficient to and happy
in each other. Yet even then Isabelle gently checked the passionate
utterances of her faithful suitor, and strove to moderate his rapturous
transports, though their very fervour made