he noise and commotion which was
pretty sure to be going on night and day in the lower part of the
castle.

"Trouble not yourself about that, Babache," cried Francezka, merrily;
"Gaston and I are not in search of quiet, but gaiety. Life was so
dark for us for seven years that we want it to be as merry as we can
make it now," to which Gaston laughingly agreed.

I had caused a harpsichord to be placed in Francezka's room. To this
she ran, opening it and dashing into a rattling air upon it. Her eyes
were sparkling, the color had come back into her cheeks--her whole air
was one of feverish gaiety. She was then eight and twenty years of
age, but I think I never saw a more girlish looking creature. The
years that most young women spend in going to balls and routs and
suppers, and spoiling their complexions with rouge, Francezka had
spent in the solitude and pure air of the country. She had all the
verve, the freshness, of one to whom the world is still new, and youth
looked out of her shining eyes. It was as if the other Francezka were
laid away with her black Spanish costumes, and this Francezka were the
Francezka who had stormed all hearts on the lake of Uzmaiz and at the
fetes of Radewitz.

I could only remain with them a few minutes, as the coming of King
Louis was imminent. Francezka, too, had to rehearse for the play to be
given that night, so both of us were hurried, but Francezka took time
to say to me:

"We must have one of our old friendly interviews soon, Babache. That
must you arrange for, if you have to neglect not only the king, but
Count Saxe himself."

Two hours later the king, followed by a large suite, arrived. I was in
command of the body-guard, and as such was presented to the king in
the grand saloon, where all the great people were ranged to receive
him. Louis XV was as handsome as ever and, I thought, less wearied,
for he loved to be with Count Saxe.

I reckoned Francezka to be easily the star of the ladies present, and
there were some of the most beautiful women in France in that saloon
of Chambord, their jewels blazing under the waxlights. Nor was Gaston
Cheverny inconspicuous among the gentlemen. He had the grand air as
much as Francezka, and his adventures made him an object of respectful
curiosity. The king conversed with him some time during the evening,
and afterward sent for Francezka. She acquitted herself so well that
she made all the women hate her. Monsieur Voltaire, who was not much