and my master
being of the king's party at Choisy, I was minded to go to the Hotel
Kirkpatrick. Madame Riano was there then, and I wished to pay her my
respects.

I was shown into the garden where, in the very same sweet, retired
spot where I had first seen Francezka, Madame Riano and Francezka were
sitting. I was invited by a lackey to join them. As I passed through
the rooms I saw old Peter, who came forward and spoke to me, as he
always did, and I was glad to see the honest old soul. I asked him if
he was pleased at the prospect of seeing Capello soon.

"More than I can say, Monsieur; my Lisa is there, and she is longing
to see her poor old uncle again. Yes, Monsieur, glad shall I be to see
Capello again. I was born and reared close by--" He stopped; I knew
that he meant Castle Haret.

In the garden sat Madame Riano and Francezka. Madame Riano had on her
head a great hat with a thousand black plumes on it, and she clutched
her huge fan menacingly at my approach, although I must say she had
ever treated me with condescension. I think she reserved her fire for
great guns, like Count Saxe and the pope.

Francezka looked cheerful and even gay. She was by no means steady in
that sad condition of mind in which I had found her the night of the
rout. But it seemed to me an evil sign to find her always brightening
at the prospect of a change, showing thereby that nothing suited her.
I remember she wore a pale flowered silk, with sleeves that fell back
from her elbow, and she, too, had a hat on, but it might have been
worn by one of Watteau's shepherdesses. Both the ladies gave me kindly
greeting. Madame Riano began to ask me something about Chambord.

"I suppose Count Saxe will have forty or fifty of his ladies there
this bout," remarked this terrible old Scotch woman.

I replied respectfully that I did not understand her allusion.

"Fudge!" she cried; "you are an infant, forsooth! You know less about
Maurice of Saxe than any man in Paris, I warrant."

Francezka's laughing arch glance showed me that I could expect no help
in that quarter, so I prepared to defend myself.

"Madame, you are quite right," I replied. "I do know less than any man
on this planet about Count Saxe and the ladies."

"You would not be the better for such information," tartly responded
Madame Riano. "He will run after anything in petticoats, a milliner's
apprentice or the queen's sister, it is all one to that Maurice of
Saxe."

"Madame," sa