"It does not matter how many interviews it requires, if it is interesting," she answered nonchalantly. "Alas!" I said. "I fear it is a story which many others have told you." "An old story may seem new, when it comes from new lips." "And when it is new to the lips that tell it, as mine is. Actually, I have never before made a confession of love." "Am I to understand that you are about to make one now?" "Have I not already made it?" I said. We now stood quite apart from all others in the gallery, unnoticed by them; and our voices had fallen almost to a whisper. She smiled, as if refusing to take my words seriously. "If you have waited so long before making any confession of love whatever," she said, "you have certainly made up for the delay by the speed which you use in making your first." "On the contrary, I have had my confession ready for a long time, as my love has existed for a long time. I waited only to meet its object,--the woman of whom I had formed the ideal in my mind." She looked as if about to burst into a laugh; but she changed her mind, and regarded me with a look of inquiry, as if she would read my heart. The smile was still on her lips, yet she spoke gravely when she said: "Monsieur, I cannot make you out. If you are as sincere as you are original,--but I must go to the Queen-mother now. To-morrow afternoon, I shall walk in the gardens of the Tuileries, if the weather is clear." "But one moment, I beg! M. de Noyard,--he is in love with you, is he not?" Her face again took on its mocking look. "I have not asked him," she said lightly. Then she regarded me with a new and peculiar expression, as if some daring idea had come into her mind, some project which had to be meditated upon before it might be safely breathed. "You look at me strangely, mademoiselle." "Oh, I merely wonder at your curiosity in regard to M. de Noyard." "My curiosity is not in regard to his feelings, but in regard to yours." "Monsieur," she said, with a very captivating air of reproach, "have I not told you that I shall walk in the gardens of the Tuileries to-morrow afternoon?" And she glided away, leaving behind her the most delighted and conceited young man, at that moment, in France. CHAPTER III. THE STRANGE REQUEST OF MLLE. D'ARENCY