Twice deceived, beware of the third time," said the page, laughing;
and, breaking from De Valette, he was in a moment on the threshold of
the door.

"Here is a newly made priest, as I live!" said La Tour, catching the
page by his arm, and drawing him back a few paces. "But methinks your
step is too quick and buoyant, my gentle youth, for your vocation."

The page made no reply, but drooping his head, suffered a profusion of
dark ringlets to fall over his face, as if purposely to conceal his
features.

"This would be a pretty veil for a girl," said La Tour, parting the hair
from his forehead; "but, by my troth, these curls are out of place, on
the head of a grave priest; the shaved crown would better become a
disciple of the austere father Gilbert.--What, mute still, my little
anchorite? Speak, if thou hast not a vow of silence on thee!"

"And if I have," said the page, pettishly, "I must break it, though it
should cost me a week's penance!"

"Ha! my lady's _soi-disant_ page!" exclaimed La Tour, struck by the
sound of his voice,--which, in the excitement of the moment, he had not
attempted to disguise,--and drawing him towards a lamp, he bent his
searching eye full upon the boy's face.

"I pray you let me begone, my lady waits for me," said the page,
impatiently.

"A pretty, antic trick!" continued La Tour, without regarding his
entreaty, "and played off, no doubt, for some sage purpose! Look,
Eustace!" he added, laughing, "but have a care, that you do not become
enamoured of the holy orders!"

"Look till you are weary!" said Hector, reddening with vexation; and
dashing his scarf and rosary to the ground, he hastily unfastened the
collar of his long, black vest, and throwing it from him, stood before
them, dressed as a page, in proud and indignant silence.

"Why, you blush like a girl, Hector," said La Tour, tauntingly; "though
I think, by the flashing of your eye, it is rather from anger, than
shame. Look, Mr. Stanhope, what think _you_ of our gentle page, and
_ci-devant_ priest?"

Mr. Stanhope _was_ regarding him, with an attention, which rendered him
heedless of the question; he met the eye of Hector, and instantly the
boy's cheeks were blanched with a deadly paleness, which was rapidly
followed by a glow of the deepest crimson. An exclamation trembled on
Stanhope's lips, but he forcibly repressed it, and his embarrassment was
unremarked. De Valette had noticed Hector's changing complexion, and,
naturally