re of her hand was somewhat more than slightly
returned.

"Shall you be at the English ambassador's to-night?" said the lady, as
they were about to shut the door of the carriage.

"Certainly, if you are to be there," was my answer.

"We shall meet then," said Madame, and her look said more.

I rode into the Bois; and giving my horse to my servant, as I came near
Passy, where I was to meet Madame D'Anville, I proceeded thither on
foot. I was just in sight of the spot, and indeed of my inamorata, when
two men passed, talking very earnestly; they did not remark me, but
what individual could ever escape my notice? The one was Thornton;
the other--who could he be? Where had I seen that pale, but more than
beautiful countenance before? I looked again. I was satisfied that I
was mistaken in my first thought; the hair was of a completely different
colour. "No, no," said I, "it is not he: yet how like."

I was distrait and absent during the whole time I was with Madame
D'Anville. The face of Thornton's companion haunted me like a dream;
and, to say the truth, there were also moments when the recollection of
my new engagement for the evening made me tired with that which I was
enjoying the troublesome honour of keeping.

Madame D'Anville was not slow in perceiving the coldness of my
behaviour. Though a Frenchwoman, she was rather grieved than resentful.

"You are growing tired of me, my friend," she said: "and when I consider
your youth and temptations, I cannot be surprised at it--yet, I
own, that this thought gives me much greater pain than I could have
supposed."

"Bah! ma belle amie," cried I, "you deceive yourself--I adore you--I
shall always adore you; but it's getting very late."

Madame D'Anville sighed, and we parted. "She is not half so pretty or
agreeable as she was," thought I, as I mounted my horse, and remembered
my appointment at the ambassador's.

I took unusual pains with my appearance that evening, and drove to the
ambassador's hotel in the Rue Faubourg St. Honore, full half an hour
earlier than I had ever done before. I had been some time in the rooms
without discovering my heroine of the morning. The Duchess of H--n
passed by.

"What a wonderfully beautiful woman," said Mr. Howard de Howard (the
spectral secretary of the embassy) to Mr. Aberton.

"Ay," answered Aberton, "but to my taste, the Duchesse de Perpignan is
quite equal to her--do you know her?"

"No--yes!" said Mr. Howard de Howard; "t