CHAPTER VII.

She did not find her mother at the chateau:  Madame d’Urtis was overjoyed to see her.

“Well, my lost sheep,” she said, “you have come back again to the fold.”

“Yes,” said Daphne, sadly; “I am come back never to stray again.  See, here is my broken crook, and Daphnis will never come to cut me another.”

She told every thing to Madame d’Urtis.  The Duchess did not know whether to laugh or scold; so she got over the difficulty by alternately doing both.

In the Chateau de Langevy, Hector continued firm in the presence of his father, and even of his cousin.  He told them every thing exactly as it occurred; and spoke so enthusiastically and so sincerely, that the old Baron was somewhat softened.  Clotilde herself was touched, and pled in Hector’s behalf.  But the old Baron was firm, and his only answer was, “In eight days he will forget all about her.  I am astonished, Clotilde, to see you reason so absurdly.”

“Oh, my dear uncle!” said Clotilde, “I believe that those who reason the worst on such a subject are the most reasonable.”

“I tell you again, in a week he will have changed his divinity—­you know that very well; or I don’t see the use of your having such beautiful eyes.”

“Be sure of this, uncle,” replied Clotilde, in a more serious voice, “Hector will never love me, and besides,” she added, relapsing into gaiety once more, “I don’t like to succeed to another; I agree with Mademoiselle de Scuderi, that, in love, those queens are the happiest who create kingdoms for themselves in undiscovered lands.”

“You read romances, Clotilde, so I shall argue with you no longer about the phantom you call love.”

Hector took his father on the weak side.

“If I marry Mademioiselle Deshoulieres,” he said, “I shall march forward in the glorious career of arms; you have opened the way for me, and I cannot fail of success under the instruction of the brave Deshoulieres, whom Louvois honours with his friendship.”

M. de Langevy put an end to the conversation by saying he would consider—­which seemed already a great step gained in favour of the lovers.

On the next day’s dawn, Hector was at the Cottage of the Vines.

“Alas, alas!” said the old woman, throwing open the window, “the dear young lady is gone!”

“Gone!—­you let her go!—­but I will find her.”

Hector ran to the Chateau d’Urtis.  When he entered the park, he felt he was too late, for he saw a carriage hurrying down the opposite avenue.  He rang the bell, and was shown in to the Duchess.

“’Tis you, Monsieur de Langevy,” she said, sadly; “you come to see Mademoiselle Deshoulieres.  Think of her no more, for all is at an end between you.  On this earth you will meet no more, for in an hour she will have left the world.  She is gone, with her maid, to the Convent of Val Chretien.”