ouder
voice, fearful lest her unhappy victim might lose a syllable, she
said,--"In the first place he danced badly, and afterwards his remarks
were very silly."

She then rose, humming the air to which she was presently going to
dance. De Guiche had overheard everything. The arrow pierced his heart
and wounded him mortally. Then, at the risk of interrupting the progress
of the _fete_ by his annoyance, he fled from the scene, tearing his
beautiful costume of Autumn in pieces, and scattering, as he went along,
the branches of vines, mulberry and almond trees, with all the other
artificial attributes of his assumed divinity. A quarter of an hour
afterwards he returned to the theater; but it will be readily believed
that it was only a powerful effort of reason over his great excitement
that enabled him to go back; or perhaps, for love is thus strangely
constituted, he found it impossible even to remain much longer separated
from the presence of one who had broken his heart. Madame was finishing
her figure. She saw, but did not look at De Guiche, who, irritated and
revengeful, turned his back upon her as she passed him, escorted by her
nymphs, and followed by a hundred flatterers. During this time, at the
other end of the theater, near the lake, a young woman was seated, with
her eyes fixed upon one of the windows of the theater, from which were
issuing streams of light--the window in question being that of the royal
box. As De Guiche quitted the theater for the purpose of getting into
the fresh air he so much needed, he passed close to this figure and
saluted her. When she perceived the young man, she rose, like a woman
surprised in the midst of ideas she was desirous of concealing
from herself. De Guiche stopped as he recognized her, and said
hurriedly,--"Good evening, Mademoiselle de la Valliere; I am indeed
fortunate in meeting you."

"I, also, M. de Guiche, am glad of this accidental meeting," said the
young girl, as she was about to withdraw.

"Pray do not leave me," said De Guiche, stretching out his hand towards
her, "for you would be contradicting the kind words you have just
pronounced. Remain, I implore you: the evening is most lovely. You wish
to escape from the merry tumult, and prefer your own society. Well, I
can understand it; all women who are possessed of any feeling do, and
one never finds them dull or lonely when removed from the giddy vortex
of these exciting amusements. Oh! Heaven!" he exclaimed, sud