I walked round the settle and came face to face with a beautiful woman reclining on a couch. On hearing the door open she had raised herself on her elbow. Now, seeing a stranger before her, she sprang up with a low cry, and stood gazing at me, her face expressing both astonishment and anger. She was of middling height, her features regular though somewhat childlike, her complexion singularly fair. A profusion of golden hair hung in disorder about her neck, and matched the deep blue of her eyes, wherein it seemed to me, there lurked more spirit and fire than the general cast of her features led one to expect. After a moment’s silence, during which she scanned me from head to foot with great haughtiness--and I her with curiosity and wonder--she spoke. ‘Sir!’ she said slowly, ‘to what am I to attribute this--visit?’ For the moment I was so taken aback by her appearance and extraordinary beauty, as well as by the absence of any sign of those I sought, that I could not gather my thoughts to reply, but stood looking vaguely at her. I had expected, when I entered the room, something so different from this! ‘Well, sir?’ she said again, speaking sharply, and tapping her foot on the floor. ‘This visit, madame?’ I stammered. ‘Call it intrusion, sir, if you please!’ she cried imperiously. ‘Only explain it, or begone.’ ‘I crave leave to do both, madame,’ I answered, collecting myself by an effort. ‘I ascended these stairs and opened your door in error--that is the simple fact--hoping to find a friend of mine here. I was mistaken, it seems, and it only remains for me to withdraw, offering at the same time the humblest apologies,’ And as I spoke I bowed low and prepared to retire. ‘One moment, sir!’ she said quickly, and in an altered tone. ‘You are, perhaps, a friend of M. de Bruhl--of my husband. In that case, if you desire to leave any message I will--I shall be glad to deliver it.’ She looked so charming that, despite the tumult of my feelings, I could not but regard her with admiration. ‘Alas! madame, I cannot plead that excuse,’ I answered. ‘I regret that I have not the honour of his acquaintance.’ She eyed me with some surprise. ‘Yet still, sir,’ she answered, smiling a little, and toying with a gold brooch which clasped her habit, ‘you must have had some ground, some reason, for supposing you would find a friend here?’ ‘True, madame,’ I answered, ‘but I was mistaken.’ I saw her colour suddenly. With a smile and a faint twinkle of the eye she said, ‘It is not possible, sir, I suppose--you have not come here, I mean, out of any reason connected with a--a knot of velvet, for instance?’ I started, and involuntarily advanced a step towards her. ‘A knot of velvet!’ I exclaimed, with emotion. ‘Mon Dieu! Then I was not mistaken! I have come to the right house, and you--you know something of this! Madame,’ I continued impulsively, ‘that knot of velvet? Tell me what it means, I implore you!’