of it would suddenly rush into his mind, sweeping everything before it, overwhelming him afresh with wonder and amazement.  And indeed it could not be easy for a man who did not believe that such an anomaly as a truly virtuous woman ever existed—­much less a virtuous actress—­to understand Isabelle’s firm resistance to the suit of such a rich and handsome young nobleman as himself.  He sometimes wondered whether it could be that after all she was only playing a part, and holding back for a while so as to obtain more from him in the end—­tactics that he knew were not unusual—­but the indignant, peremptory way in which she had rejected the casket of jewels proved conclusively that no such base motives actuated Isabelle.  All his letters she had returned unopened.  All his advances she had persistently repulsed; and he was at his wit’s end to know what to do next.  Finally he concluded to send for old Mme. Leonarde to come and talk the matter over with him; he had kept up secret relations with her, as it is always well to have a spy in the enemy’s camp.  The duke received her, when she came in obedience to his summons, in his own particular and favoured room, to which she was conducted by a private staircase.  It was a most dainty and luxurious apartment, fitted up with exquisite taste, and hung round with portraits of beautiful women—­admirably painted by Simon Vouet, a celebrated master of that day—­representing different mythological characters, and set in richly carved oval frames.  These were all likenesses of the young duke’s various mistresses, each one displaying her own peculiar charms to the greatest possible advantage, and having consented to sit for her portrait—­in a costume and character chosen by the duke—­as a special favour, without the most remote idea that it was to form part of a gallery.

When the duenna had entered and made her best curtsey, the duke condescendingly signed to her to be seated, and immediately began to question her eagerly about Isabelle—­as to whether there were any signs yet of her yielding to his suit, and also how matters were progressing between her and the detested Captain Fracasse.  Although the crafty old woman endeavoured to put the best face upon everything, and was very diplomatic in her answers to these searching questions, the information that she had to give was excessively displeasing to the imperious young nobleman, who had much ado to control his temper sufficiently to continue the conversation.  Before he let her go he begged her to suggest some plan by which he could hope to soften the obdurate beauty—­appealing to her great experience in such intrigues, and offering to give her any reward she chose to claim if she would but help him to succeed.  She had nothing better to propose, however, than secretly administering a strong narcotic to Isabelle, and concerting some plan to deliver her into his hands while unconscious from the effects of it; which even the unscrupulous young