from her."

"The way to please me most, as you ought to have known," Isabelle
replied, "was to stay here at home quietly with your father and me, and
let us take care of you, instead of rushing off so rashly--with your
wound scarcely healed, or your health fully re-established--on some
foolish errand or other, that you were not willing to acknowledge."

"Was I ever really wounded, or ill?" said Vallombreuse, laughing. "Upon
my word I had forgotten all about it. Never in my life was I in better
health than at this moment, and my little expedition has done me no end
of good. But you, my sweet sister, are not looking as well as when I
left you; you have grown thin and pale. What is the matter? I fear that
you find your life here at the chateau very dull. Solitude and seclusion
are not at all the thing for a beautiful young woman, I know. Reading
and embroidery are but melancholy pastimes at best and there must be
moments when even the gravest, most sedate of maidens grows weary of
gazing out upon the stagnant waters of the moat, and longs to look upon
the face of a handsome young knight."

"Oh! what an unmerciful tease you are, Vallombreuse, and how you do love
to torment me with these strange fancies of yours. You forget that I
have had the society of the prince, who is so kind and devoted to me,
and who abounds in wise and instructive discourse."

"Yes, there is no doubt that our worthy father is a most learned and
accomplished gentleman, honoured and admired at home and abroad; but his
pursuits and occupations are too grave and weighty for you to share, my
dear little sister, and I don't want to see your youth passed altogether
in such a solemn way. As you would not smile upon my friend, the
Chevalier de Vidalinc, nor condescend to listen to the suit of the
Marquis de l'Estang, I concluded to go in search of somebody that would
be more likely to please your fastidious taste, and, my dear, I have
found him. Such a charming, perfect, ideal husband he will make! I am
convinced that you will dote upon him."

"It is downright cruelty, Vallombreuse, to persecute me as you do, with
such unfeeling jests. You know perfectly well that I do not wish to
marry; I cannot give my hand without my heart, and my heart is not mine
to give."

"But you will talk very differently, I do assure you, my dear little
sister, when you see the husband I have chosen for you."

"Never! never!" cried Isabelle, whose voice betrayed her distress.