Court is almost as clear and bright
as a summer's day in France; the atmosphere is heavy with the delicious
perfume of geraniums, sweet-peas, seringas, and heliotrope scattered in
profusion around. It is past midday, and the king, having dined after
his return from hunting, paid a visit to Lady Castlemaine, the lady who
was reputed at the time to hold his heart in bondage; and this proof
of his devotion discharged, he was readily permitted to pursue his
infidelities until evening arrived. Love and amusement ruled the entire
court; it was the period when ladies would seriously interrogate
their ruder companions as to their opinions upon a foot more or
less captivating, according to whether it wore a pink or lilac silk
stocking--for it was the period when Charles II. had declared that there
was no hope of safety for a woman who wore green silk stockings, because
Miss Lucy Stewart wore them of that color. While the king is endeavoring
in all directions to inculcate others with his preferences on this
point, we will ourselves bend our steps towards an avenue of beech-trees
opposite the terrace, and listen to the conversation of a young girl in
a dark-colored dress, who is walking with another of about her own age
dressed in blue. They crossed a beautiful lawn, from the center of which
sprang a fountain, with the figure of a siren executed in bronze, and
strolled on, talking as they went, towards the terrace, along which,
looking out upon the park and interspersed at frequent intervals, were
erected summer-houses, diverse in form and ornament; these summer-houses
were nearly all occupied; the two young women passed on, the one
blushing deeply, while the other seemed dreamily silent. At last, having
reached the end of the terrace which looks on the river, and finding
there a cool retreat, they sat down close to each other.

"Where are we going?" said the younger to her companion.

"My dear, we are going where you yourself led the way."

"I?"

"Yes, you; to the extremity of the palace, towards that seat yonder,
where the young Frenchman is seated, wasting his time in sighs and
lamentations."

Miss Mary Grafton hurriedly said, "No, no; I am not going there."

"Why not?"

"Let us go back, Lucy."

"Nay, on the contrary, let us go on, and have an explanation."

"What about?"

"About how it happens that the Vicomte de Bragelonne always accompanies
you in all your walks, as you invariably accompany him in his."

"And y