I will not dwell upon a scene which can have no charms to those, who, like your highness, buy love ready made; I shall therefore narrate the history of Cerise, which at my request was imparted, previous to her receiving a similar confidence on my part.

“Allow me to observe, Felix (or what is your name, you impostor?"), said Cerise, half reproachfully, and half in jest.

“My name is Francois.”

“Well, then, Francois; but I never shall like that name so well as Felix, for it was to Felix that—­but there’s nothing in a name after all—­except that the first is engraven on my heart, and cannot be effaced.  But let me tell my story, and allow me to commence with an observation, which my acquaintance with you, and subsequent reflections, have deeply impressed upon my mind.  It unfortunately happens, that those who are highest in rank, in this world, pay dearly for it in a point upon which almost all the real happiness of life consists.  I mean in the choice of the partner with whom they are destined to walk the pilgrimage of life hand in hand; and the higher their rank, the more strictly are they debarred from making a selection, which the meanest peasant can enjoy without control.

“A king has no choice, he must submit to the wishes of his subjects, and the interests of his country.  The aristocracy in our country are little better off, at least the female part of it, for they are dragged from convents to the altar, and offered up as a sacrifice to family connection At the time that we were, or were supposed to be (for as yet it is a mystery to me), assisted by you on the road—­”

“In one point not a supposition certainly, my Cerise, for I took off my only garment to cover you.”

“You did—­you did—­I think I see you now, leaving the side of the chariot; I loved you from that moment—­but to continue:  I was then going down to the chateau, to be introduced to my future husband, whom I had never seen, although the affair had been long arranged.

“My father had no idea that any harm could result from a few days’ acquaintance; and he felt too grateful to forbid you the house; but he little knew how situation and opportunity will overcome time; and I knew more of you in a few days than I thought I could have known of any man in so many years.  That I loved you—­loved you dearly—­you know well.

“But to proceed:  (nay, don’t kiss me so, or I shall never tell my story).  The next morning I heard that you had gone, as you had told me it was your intention; but my father’s horse did not come back—­my father was grave, and the bishop more gloomy than usual.  Two days afterwards I was informed by my father that you were an impostor, that all had been discovered, and that if taken you would probably be seized by the Inquisition; but you had fled the country, and were supposed to have embarked at Toulon.  He added, that my intended husband would arrive in a few days.