that
it mattered, but I thought it would amuse the Count to conjecture how I
had got away. One likes to give people something to think of.--As for my
horse, I had seen to it that he was kept in an unlocked penthouse.--Ah,
well! that Count thought he was a great chess-player." And Monsieur de
Pepicot smiled faintly and shook his head.

At the prospect of war, I joined the army assembling at Chalons, but the
lamentable murder of the King put an end to his great plans, and I
resumed my former way, swinging like a pendulum between Paris and La
Tournoire. One soft, pink evening in the second summer after my
adventure at Lavardin, I was privileged to walk alone with the Countess
in the meadows behind Hugues's mill. Health and serenity had raised her
beauty to perfection, and there was no trace of her sorrows but the
humble dignity and brave gentleness of her look and manner.

"You are the loveliest woman in the world," I said, without any sort of
warning. "Ah, Louise--surely I may call you that now--how I adore you! I
cannot any longer keep back what is in my heart. See yonder where the
sun has set--that is where La Tournoire is. It seems to beckon us--not
me alone, but us--together. When will you come?--when may I take you to
my father and mother, and hear them say I could not have found a sweeter
wife in all France?"

Trembling, she raised her moist eyes to mine, and said in a voice like a
low sigh:

"Ah, Henri, if it were possible! But you forget the barrier: we are not
of the same religion. I know your mother changed her faith for your
father's sake; but I could never do so."

"But what if I changed for your sake?" I said, taking her hand.

"Henri! will you do that?" she cried, with a joy that told all I wished
to know.

In truth, I had often thought of going over to the national form of
worship. As soon, therefore, as I got to La Tournoire after this
meeting, I opened the matter to my father.

"Why," said he, "I think it a sensible resolve. The times are changed;
since King Henri's death, there is no longer any hope of us Huguenots
maintaining a balance. As a party, we have done our work, and are doomed
to pass away. Those who persist will only keep up a division in the
nation, from which they can gain nothing, and which will be a source of
useless troubles. As for the religious side of the question, some people
prefer artificial forms of expression, some do not. It is a matter of
externals: and if one must ne