uished as much by the superior magnificence of her attire
as by her striking beauty.

Moireau could not believe his eyes; he felt assured he beheld madame
Rossin, yet he fancied he must be under the influence of some fantastic
dream; but every look, every gesture of the princess, a thousand
trifles, which would have escaped the notice of a common observer, but
which were engraved in indelible characters on the heart of her admirer,
all concurred to assure him that he recognised in this lovely and
dazzling female, so splendidly attired and so regally attended, the
cherished mistress of his affections; she whom that very morning he had
held in his embrace. He addressed a thousand questions to those about
him, from whom he learnt his own good fortune and the exalted rank
of her he had won. Scarcely could he restrain the burst of joy, when
informed that the fair object, glittering with jewels and radiant
in beauty, was the daughter of Richelieu, and the wife of one of the
princes of the noble houses of Egmont.

A thousand tumultuous and flattering ideas rushed in crowds to the brain
of young Moireau, and he saw in anticipation a long and brilliant vista
opening before him. Poor inexperienced youth! He mistook the wisest and
safest path, which would have been to have appeared ignorant of the
high rank of his mistress, and to have induced her, from motives of
affection, to preside over his fortunes, and to rise by her means
without allowing her to suspect he guessed her ability to bestow riches
and preferment. He, on the contrary, hastened to her with the account of
his having discovered her real rank and station. Madame d'Egmont, whose
self-possession enabled her to conceal the terror and uneasiness his
recital inspired her with, listened calmly and silently till he had
ceased speaking, and then asked him, with a playful smile, if he was
quite sure of being in his right senses? "For how otherwise could you,"
said she, "confuse a poor obscure widow like myself with the rich and
powerful princess you speak of? My friend, you are under the influence
of a dream; believe me, I am neither more nor less than poor widow
Rossin, and can boast of no claim to the illustrious name of Egmont or
Richelieu."

But the more she spoke the less she persuaded, and young Moireau was not
to be reasoned out of his conviction of her identity with the high-born
princess of Egmont, and he alternately employed threats and promises
to induce her to