d have been equally
ignorant of what streets they passed through.

At length he heard the wheels rumbling as if they were passing under an
arch. He heard the grating of hinges as the gate opened to admit him,
and closed behind him, and directly after, the carriage, having
described a semi-circle, stopped.

"Chevalier," said his guide, "if you have any fear, there is still time
to draw back; if, on the contrary, you have not changed your resolution,
come with me."

D'Harmental's only answer was to extend his hand.

The footman opened the door; the unknown got out first, and then
assisted the chevalier. His feet soon encountered some steps; he mounted
six--still conducted by the masked lady--crossed a vestibule, passed
through a corridor, and entered a room.

"We are now arrived," said the unknown, "you remember our conditions;
you are free to accept or refuse a part in the piece about to be played,
but, in case of a refusal, you promise not to divulge anything you may
see or hear."

"I swear it on my honor," replied the chevalier.

"Now, sit down; wait in this room, and do not remove the bandage till
you hear two o'clock strike. You have not long to wait."

At these words his conductress left him. Two o'clock soon struck, and
the chevalier tore off the bandage. He was alone in the most marvelous
boudoir possible to imagine. It was small and octagonal, hung with lilac
and silver, with furniture and portieres of tapestry. Buhl tables,
covered with splendid china; a Persian carpet, and the ceiling painted
by Watteau, who was then coming into fashion. At this sight, the
chevalier found it difficult to believe that he had been summoned on
grave matters, and almost returned to his first ideas.

At this moment a door opened in the tapestry, and there appeared a
woman who, in the fantastic preoccupation of his spirit, D'Harmental
might have taken for a fairy, so slight, small, and delicate was her
figure. She was dressed in pearl gray satin, covered with bouquets, so
beautifully embroidered that, at a short distance, they appeared like
natural flowers; the flounces, ruffles, and head-dress was of English
point; it was fastened with pearls and diamonds. Her face was covered
with a half-mask of black velvet, from which hung a deep black lace.
D'Harmental bowed, for there was something royal in the walk and manner
of this woman which showed him that the other had been only an envoy.

"Madame," said he, "have I really, a