in slumber, and no prying human eyes open to gaze upon her, Diana will quit her place in the skies above and descend to earth, to visit the gentle shepherd, Endymion—­not upon Mount Latmus, but in the park—­at the foot of the statue of silent love.  The handsome shepherd must be sure to have fallen asleep ere Diana appears, so as not to shock the modesty of the immortal goddess—­who will come without her cortege of nymphs, wrapped in a cloud and devoid of her silvery radiance.”

We will leave to the reader’s imagination the delirious joy that filled to overflowing the foolish heart of the susceptible Leander, who was fooled to the top of his bent, when he read this precious note, which exceeded his wildest hopes.  He immediately began his preparations to play the part of Endymion—­poured a whole bottle of perfume upon his hair and hands, chewed a flower of mace to make his breath sweet, twisted his glossy curls daintily round his white fingers—­though not a hair was awry—­and then waited impatiently for the moment when he should set forth to seek the rendezvous at the foot of the statue of silent love—­where we left him anxiously awaiting the arrival of his goddess.  He shivered nervously from excitement, and the penetrating chilliness of the damp night air, as he stood motionless at the appointed spot.  He trembled at the falling of a leaf—­the crackling of the gravel under his feet whenever he moved them sounded so loud in his ears that he felt sure it would be heard at the chateau.  The mysterious darkness of the wood filled him with awe, and the great, black trees seemed like terrible genii, threatening him.  The poor wretch was not exactly frightened, but not very far from it.  Mme. la Marquise was tardy—­Diana was leaving her faithful Endymion too long cooling his heels in the heavy night dew.  At last he thought he heard heavy footsteps approaching,—­but they could not be those of his goddess—­he must be mistaken—­goddesses glide so lightly over the sward that not even a blade of grass is crushed beneath their feet—­and, indeed, all was silent again.

“Unless Mme. la Marquise comes quickly, I fear she will find only a half-frozen lover, instead of an ardent, impatient one,” murmured Leander with chattering teeth; and even as the words escaped him four dark shadows advanced noiselessly from behind upon the expectant gallant.  Two of these shadows, which were the substantial bodies of stout rascals in the service of the Marquis de Bruyeres, seized him suddenly by the arms, which they held pinioned closely to his sides, while the other two proceeded to rain blows alternately upon his back—­keeping perfect time as their strokes fell thick and fast.  Too proud to run the risk of making his woes public by an outcry, their astonished victim took his punishment bravely—­without making a sound.  Mutius Scaevola did not bear himself more heroically while his right hand lay among the burning coals upon the altar in the presence of Porsenna, than did Leander under his severe chastisement.  When it was finished the two men let go of their prisoner, all four saluted him gravely, and retired as noiselessly as they had come, without a single word being spoken.