ess I should not have sufficient command over
myself to go in quest of Fleur-de-Marie,--my emotion would terrify her."

"And by what means was she preserved?" exclaimed Rodolph; "and whose
hand snatched her from death? I am most ungrateful not to have put these
questions to you earlier."

"She was rescued from drowning by a courageous female, who snatched her
from a watery grave just as she was sinking."

"Do you know who this female was?"

"I do; and to-morrow she will be at my house."

"The debt is immense!" rejoined the prince; "but I will endeavour to
repay it."

"Heaven must have inspired me with the idea of leaving Fleur-de-Marie in
the carriage," said the marquise. "Had I brought her in with me the
shock must have killed her."

"Now, then," said the prince, who had been for some minutes occupied in
endeavouring to subdue his extreme agitation, "I can promise you, my
kind friends, that I have my feelings sufficiently under control to
venture to meet my--my--daughter. Go, Murphy, and fetch her to my
longing arms."

Rodolph pronounced the word daughter with a tenderness of voice and
manner impossible to describe.

"Are you quite sure you are equal to the trying scene, my lord?"
inquired Clemence; "for we must run no risks with one in
Fleur-de-Marie's delicate state."

"Oh, yes,--yes! Be under no alarm! I am too well aware of the dangerous
consequences any undue emotion would occasion my child; be assured I
will not expose her to anything of the sort. But go--go--my good Murphy;
I beseech you hasten to bring her hither."

"Don't be alarmed, madame," said the squire, who had attentively
scrutinised the countenance of the prince; "she may come now without
danger. I am quite sure that his royal highness will sufficiently
command himself."

"Then go--go--my faithful friend; you are keeping me in torments."

"Just give me one minute, my lord," said the excellent creature, drying
the moisture from his eyes; "I must not let the poor thing see I have
been crying. There, there--that will do! I should not like to cross the
antechamber looking like a weeping Magdalen." So saying, the squire
proceeded towards the door, but suddenly turning back, he said, "But, my
lord, what am I to say to her?"

"Yes, what had he better say?" inquired the prince of Clemence.

"That M. Rodolph wishes to see her,--nothing more."

"Oh, to be sure! How stupid of me not to think of that! M. Rodolph
wishes to see her,--capital, ex