the bosom with a gold brooch.  Her fingers, bearing more rings than the signet of her house, were concealed in embroidered gauntlets of Spanish leather.  One of them held an ivory-handled riding-rod, the other the reins of the well-fed jennet, on which the lady, on a fine afternoon, late in the Carnival, was cantering home through the lanes of the Bocage, after a successful morning’s hawking among the wheat-ears.  She was attended by a pair of sisters, arrayed somewhat in the same style, and by a pair of mounted grooms, the falconer with his charge having gone home by a footway.

The sound of horses’ feet approaching made her look towards a long lane that came down at right angles to that along which she was riding, and slacken her pace before coming to its opening.  And as she arrived at the intersection, she beheld advancing, mounted on a little rough pony, the spare figure of her brother the Chevalier, in his home suit, so greasy and frayed, that only his plumed hat (and a rusty plume it was) and the old sword at his side showed his high degree.

He waved his hand to her as a sign to halt, and rode quickly up, scarcely giving time for a greeting ere he said, ’Sister the little one is not out with you.’

’No, truly, the little mad thing, she is stricter and more head-strong than ever was her preceptress.  Poor Monique!  I had hoped that we should be at rest when that cass-tete had carried off her scruples to Ste.-Claire, at Lucon, but here is this little droll far beyond her, without being even a nun!’

’Assuredly not.  The business must be concluded at once.  She must be married before Lent.’

‘That will scarce be—­in her present frame.’

‘It must be.  Listen, sister.  Here is this miserable alive!’

‘Her spouse!’

’Folly about her spouse!  The decree from Rome has annulled the foolish mummery of her infancy.  It came a week after the Protestant conspiracy, and was registered when the Norman peasants at Chateau Leurre showed contumacy.  It was well; for, behold, our gallant is among his English friends, recovering, and even writing a billet.  Anon he will be upon our hands in person.  By the best fortune, Gillot fell in with his messenger this morning, prowling about on his way to the convent, and brought him to me to be examined.  I laid him fat in ward, and sent Gillot off to ride day and night to bring my son down to secure the girl at once.’

’You will never obtain her consent.  She is distractedly in love with his memory!  Let her guess at his life, and—–­’

’Precisely.  Therefore must we be speedy.  All Paris knows it by this time, for the fellow went straight to the English Ambassador; and I trust my son has been wise enough to set off already; for should we wait till after Lent, Monsieur le Baron himself might be upon us.’

‘Poor child!  You men little heed how you make a woman suffer.’