“Hush, sirrah!” interrupted De Valette, sharply; “not a word of disrespect to your lord and commander, or I will throw you, and your worthy teacher, over the walls of the fort.  Speak at once, man, and tell me, what has taken place here.”

“It is a bridal, please your honor, and—­”

“A bridal!” exclaimed De Valette, rapidly changing color; “and where have you found a bride and bridegroom, in this wilderness?”

“My lady’s young—­” Ronald began; but De Valette waited not to hear the conclusion, for at that moment a light, streaming from a low building opposite, attracted his attention, and, with nervous irritability, he advanced towards it.  It was the building used for a Catholic chapel, and the light proceeded from a nuptial procession, which was then issuing from it.  Two boys walked before it, in loose black garments, with white scarfs thrown over their shoulders, and bearing flaming torches in their hands.  Next came father Gilbert, with slow, thoughtful steps; and La Tour beside him, with the stern, abstracted countenance of one, who had little concern in the ceremonies, which he sanctioned by his presence.  Behind them was the bridegroom, a handsome young soldier, who looked fondly on the blushing girl, who leaned upon his arm, and had just plighted her faith to him, by an irrevocable vow.  The domestics of La Tour’s household followed, with the Catholic part of the garrison; and, as soon as the door of the chapel closed, a lively air was struck up, in honor of the joyful occasion.

“I am a fool,” murmured De Valette to himself, when a full examination had satisfied him,—­“an errant fool; ’tis strange, that one image must be forever in my mind; that I should tremble at the very sound of a bridal, lest, perchance, it might be her’s.”

Ashamed of the emotion he had involuntarily betrayed, De Valette turned to look for Stanhope, who remained on the spot, where he had left him, engrossed by a scene, which was amusing from its novelty, and the singularity of time and place where it occurred.

“You must excuse me, Stanhope,” he said; “but my curiosity, for once, exceeded my politeness; it is not often that we ’marry, and give in marriage,’ in this wilderness,—­though I will, by and by, shew you a damsel, whom kings might sue for.”

“My curiosity is excited now,” returned Stanhope; “and, if beauty is so rare with you, beware how you lead me into temptation.  It is an old remark, that love flies from the city, and is most dangerous amidst the simplicity of nature.”

“Forewarned, forearmed; remember,” said De Valette, laughing, “I am a true friend, but I could ill brook a rival.”

CHAPTER VI.

    Good my complexion! dost thou think, though
    I am caparisoned like a man, I have a doublet
    And hose in my disposition?

        SHAKSPEARE.