own choosing
too? Why, what more would the jade have?"

"The situation is not usual for a young damsel," said the other, "and
somewhat trying to her blushes."

"She should have thought of that before she began the dance! It was none
of my choosing, God knows that: but since she is in it, by Our Lady, she
shall carry it to the end." And then addressing Denis, "Monsieur de
Beaulieu," he asked, "may I present you to my niece? She has been
waiting your arrival, I may say, with even greater impatience than
myself."

Denis had resigned himself with a good grace--all he desired was to know
the worst of it as speedily as possible; so he rose at once, and bowed
in acquiescence. The Sire de Maletroit followed his example, and limped,
with the assistance of the chaplain's arm, towards the chapel door. The
priest pulled aside the arras, and all three entered. The building had
considerable architectural pretensions. A light groining sprang from six
stout columns, and hung down in two rich pendants from the centre of the
vault. The place terminated behind the altar in a round end, embossed
and honeycombed with a superfluity of ornament in relief, and pierced by
many little windows shaped like stars, trefoils, or wheels. These
windows were imperfectly glazed, so that the night-air circulated freely
in the chapel. The tapers, of which there must have been half a hundred
burning on the altar, were unmercifully blown about; and the light went
through many different phases of brilliancy and semi-eclipse. On the
steps in front of the altar knelt a young girl richly attired as a
bride. A chill settled over Denis as he observed her costume; he fought
with desperate energy against the conclusion that was being thrust upon
his mind; it could not--it should not--be as he feared.

"Blanche," said the Sire, in his most flute-like tones, "I have brought
a friend to see you, my little girl; turn round and give him your pretty
hand. It is good to be devout; but it is necessary to be polite, my
niece."

The girl rose to her feet and turned towards the newcomers. She moved
all of a piece; and shame and exhaustion were expressed in every line of
her fresh young body; and she held her head down and kept her eyes upon
the pavement, as she came slowly forward. In the course of her advance,
her eyes fell upon Denis de Beaulieu's feet--feet of which he was justly
vain, be it remarked, and wore in the most elegant accoutrement even
while travelling. Sh