d eye, she saw a very young, very handsome gentleman, stealing on
tiptoe to the nearest flower-bed. Then she saw him take a purse out of
his bosom, and drop it on the bed. This done, he came slowly past the
tree again, and was even heard to vent a little innocent chuckle of
intense satisfaction: but of brief duration; for, when Rose saw the
purse leave his hand, she made a rapid signal to Josephine to wheel
round the other side of the tree, and, starting together with admirable
concert, both the daughters of Beaurepaire glided into sight with a vast
appearance of composure.

Two women together are really braver than fifteen separate; but still,
most of this tranquillity was merely put on, but so admirably that
Edouard Riviere had no chance with them. He knew nothing about their
tremors; all he saw or heard was, a rustle, then a flap on each side of
him as of great wings, and two lovely women were upon him with angelic
swiftness. "Ah!" he cried out with a start, and glanced from the
first-comer, Rose, to the gate. But Josephine was on that side by this
time, and put up her hand, as much as to say, "You can't pass here." In
such situations, the mind works quicker than lightning. He took off his
hat, and stammered an excuse--"Come to look at the oak." At this moment
Rose pounced on the purse, and held it up to Josephine. He was caught.
His only chance now was to bolt for the mark and run; but it was not
the notary, it was a novice who lost his presence of mind, or perhaps
thought it rude to run when a lady told him to stand still. All he did
was to crush his face into his two hands, round which his cheeks and
neck now blushed red as blood. Blush? they could both see the color rush
like a wave to the very roots of his hair and the tips of his fingers.

The moment our heroines, who, in that desperation which is one of
the forms of cowardice, had hurled themselves on the foe, saw this,
flash--the quick-witted poltroons exchanged purple lightning over
Edouard's drooping head, and enacted lionesses in a moment.

It was with the quiet composure of lofty and powerful natures that
Josephine opened on him. "Compose yourself, sir; and be so good as
to tell us who you are." Edouard must answer. Now he could not speak
through his hands; and he could not face a brace of tranquil lionesses:
so he took a middle course, removed one hand, and shading himself from
Josephine with the other, he gasped out, "I am--my name is Riviere; and
I--