the other hand the De Foix, though impoverished,
belonged to the ducal house of Nemours and ranked among the highest of the
noblesse; so the match was not unsuitable, and all friends were probably
satisfied. But there was no contract or ceremony of betrothal, as the
lovers were still very young when Henri went away to the wars, he being at
the time scarce twenty years of age. When, therefore, Therese's hand was
demanded by the count de Courance, her mother was not deterred from giving
her consent by any implied obligation to the youthful heir of La Pontoise.
Who could deny the suit of the distinguished soldier, holder of the
largest and richest estates in the Loiret, the personal friend of the
king? Certainly not Madame de la Peyronie. She surrendered at discretion,
the betrothal took place at once, and the marriage was appointed for the
earliest possible day, the magnificent preparations for the event being
the only occasion for delay.

Artists and artisans were brought from Paris, Chateau Courance was
converted for the time into a busy workshop, the neighborhood thrown into
a fever of excitement, and the work of making ready for the wedding was
urged forward with the vigor of a military campaign. The general spent his
days between Courance, where he directed the rehabilitation of the
chateau, and La Pontoise, where he became the most devoted of cavaliers.

Mademoiselle de la Peyronie must have been dazzled by her brilliant
conquest, and the sincere love of the truly noble man, the modest hero and
splendid gentleman, lavished upon her every hour, could not fail to move
at least her gratitude and esteem. But as the days flew by the young girl
paled and drooped, and when the brief period of betrothal drew toward a
close the mother's ingenuity must have been taxed to find excuses for the
wayward moods and manifest misery of her unhappy child. She fell into
melancholy, and sought in solitude opportunity for constant tears. Her
favorite resort was a hill overlooking the road to Fontainebleau and
Paris, and here she would sit for hours, gazing steadily toward the north,
as if expecting some one who never came.

All too soon the wedding-day arrived. From every direction came to
Courance, where the ceremony was to be performed in the chapel, the great
families of the Loiret--a more distinguished assembly of the aristocracy
of France than could have been gathered elsewhere beyond the limits of
Paris and the court. Throngs of