r
fellow; we missed you this evening, and a good many inquiries have been
made about you. Mademoiselle de Montalais, your most obedient servant."

Montalais blushed. "Good heavens!" she exclaimed, hiding her face in
both her hands.

"Pray reassure yourself; I know how perfectly innocent you are, and I
shall give a good account of you. Manicamp, do you follow me: the hedge,
the cross-paths, and labyrinth, I am well acquainted with them all;
I will be your Ariadne. There now, your mythological name is found at
last."

"Perfectly true, comte."

"And take M. Malicorne away with you at the same time," said Montalais.

"No, indeed," said Malicorne; "M. Manicamp has conversed with you
as long as he liked, and now it is my turn, if you please; I have a
multitude of things to tell you about our future prospects."

"You hear," said the comte, laughing; "stay with him, Mademoiselle
Montalais. This is, indeed, a night for secrets." And, taking Manicamp's
arm, the comte led him rapidly away in the direction of the road
Montalais knew so well, and indicated so badly. Montalais followed them
with her eyes as long as she could perceive them.

Chapter L: How Malicorne Had Been Turned Out of the Hotel of the Beau
Paon.

While Montalais was engaged in looking after the comte and Manicamp,
Malicorne had taken advantage of the young girl's attention being drawn
away to render his position somewhat more tolerable, and when she turned
round, she immediately noticed the change which had taken place; for
he had seated himself, like a monkey, upon the wall, the foliage of the
wild vine and honeysuckle curled around his head like a faun, while
the twisted ivy branches represented tolerably enough his cloven
feet. Montalais required nothing to make her resemblance to a dryad as
complete as possible. "Well," she said, ascending another round of the
ladder, "are you resolved to render me unhappy? have you not persecuted
me enough, tyrant that you are?"

"I a tyrant?" said Malicorne.

"Yes, you are always compromising me, Monsieur Malicorne; you are a
perfect monster of wickedness."

"I?"

"What have you to do with Fontainebleau? Is not Orleans your place of
residence?"

"Do you ask me what I have to do here? I wanted to see you."

"Ah, great need of that."

"Not as far as concerns yourself, perhaps, but as far as I am concerned,
Mademoiselle Montalais, you know very well that I have left my home, and
that, for the future, I