asked me if I love you. Find me and put the question again. I leave
Paris indefinitely. France is large. If you love me you will find me.
You complain that I have never permitted you to kiss me. Read. In
this missive I kiss your handsome grey eyes a thousand times. Diane._"

A wild desire sprang into the Chevalier's heart to mount and ride to
Paris that very night. The storm was nothing; his heart was warm,
sending a heat into his cheeks and a sparkle into his dull eyes.

"Horns of Panurge! you weep?" cried Victor jestingly. "Good! You are
maudlin. What is this news which makes you weep?"

"Ah, lad," said the Chevalier, standing, "you have brought me more than
exoneration; you have brought me life, life and love. France is small
when a beloved voice calls. I shall learn who she is, this glorious
creature. A month and I shall have solved the enchantment. Victor, I
have told you of her. Sometimes it seems that I must wake to find it
all a dream. For nearly a year she has kept me dangling in mid air.
She is as learned as Aspasia, as holding as Calypso, as fascinating as
Circe. She is loveliness and wisdom; and I love her madly."

"And you will return to-morrow ?" asked Victor regretfully.

"To-morrow! Blessed day! Back to life and love! . . . Forgive me,
lad; joy made me forget! I will see you safely in Spain."

Victor brooded for a space. "Horns of Panurge! Could I but lay my
hands upon that paper!"

"No moping, lad. The bowl awaits; trouble shall smother in the cup.
We shall make this night one for memory. I have a chateau in the
Cevennes, and it shall be yours till all this blows over. Ah!"

The door leading to the private assembly opened. On the threshold
stood a man of thirty-three or four, his countenance haughty and as
clean cut as a Greek medallion. The eyes were large and black, the
brows slanting and heavy, the nose high-bridged and fierce, the chin
aggressive. There lay over all this a mask of reckless humor and
gaiety. It was the face of a man who, had he curbed his desires and
walked with circumspection, would have known enduring greatness as a
captain, as an explorer, as a theologian. Not a contour of the face
hut expressed force, courage, daring, immobility of purpose.

"Hurrah, Chevalier!" he cried; "the bowl will soon be empty."

"The Vicomte d'Halluys?" murmured Victor. "Paul, there is another
gentleman bound for Spain. We shall have company."

"What? The a