l."

"Monsieur le Marquis is a handsome man," said Blassemare, who at that
moment joined them; and, addressing Lucille, "You have seen him before?"

"_I?_--no. He has just been presented to me for the first time."

"And you think him----"

"Rather handsome--indeed, _decidedly_ handsome; but, somehow, his
melancholy spoils him. But I forgot, Julie--I ask your pardon, my
pretty niece, for criticising your hero. Remember, however, I admit his
beauty, though I can't admire him."

There is no truth of which we have been reminded with such unnecessary
reiteration, as the pretty obvious fact that every human enjoyment must,
sooner or later, come to an end. The _fete_ at the Chateau des Anges had
no exemption from this law of nature and necessity. Musicians, cooks,
artists, and artisans of all sorts, gradually disappeared. At length the
last equipage whirled down the great avenue, and a stillness and void,
more mournful from the immediate contrast, supervened.

The windows were closed--the yawning servants betook themselves to their
beds, and the angel of sleep waved his downy wings over the old chateau.
The genius of Blassemare was of that electric sort which is not easily
unexcited. He could no more have slept than he could have transformed
himself into one of the stone Tritons of the fountain by which in the
moonlight he now stood alone. Blassemare had had a magnificent triumph;
so well-contrived an entertainment had never, perhaps, been known
before; and, like certain great generals, he felt desirous to visit the
field of his victory after the heat of action was over.

Monsieur Le Prun was also wide awake and astir from other causes. No
vein of Blassemare's excitement--not even jealousy, nor conscience, nor
any mental malady--kept him waking. The cause of his vigilance was,
simply, his late supper and an indigestion.

Now it happened that both these worthies were walking unconsciously
almost side by side--Le Prun along the summit, and Blassemare along the
base, of the beautiful terrace which stretched in front of the windows
of the chateau.

There was a little receding court which lay in front of Madame Le Prun's
windows, which were furnished with a heavy stone balcony. On the side
opposite was a high wall, which divided the pleasure-grounds from the
wild, wooded park that lay immediately beyond, and in this was a door
with a private key and a spring lock.

Now it happened that both Monsieur Le Prun and the Sieur