'My dear child, you do not know that a captaincy in the Scottish gendarmerie or cuirassiers costs one hundred and eighty thousand livres, being forty-five thousand more than a troop _in any other_ regiment of horse, even the gendarmerie of Bourguignon or Flanders; a cornetcy in the Scottish troop costs sixty-two thousand livres. You must moderate your ambition, and be contented with the post of a simple cuirassier, for in the ranks of the Scottish guard, horse and foot, are none but the noblest and best blood of your own country; thus your rank and pay as a Scottish cuirassier will enable you to ruffle it in Paris with any gallant or chevalier about court. I shall send for the captain, or write to the colonel-general of the Scots in the morning, when our wishes shall be complied with--provided there be a vacancy. 'Madame,' I exclaimed, overcome by the sweetness and decision of her manner, as much as by its kindness and the brilliance of her beauty, 'the devotion of my life shall be yours.' I drew from my finger the only jewel I possessed--the ring obtained that night so strangely and disastrously in the Place de la Grève; and as it seemed to be a valuable diamond, I was about to place it on her finger, when the sound of a carriage driven furiously up the avenue, a slamming of doors, the tramp of feet and voices of men who seemed somewhat excited, gradually approached the apartment in which we were seated. The Countess grew very pale. 'Can this be the King?' she exclaimed. 'Oh, no,' said her attendant, who trembled excessively; 'there are no torches and no musketeers; 'tis not his Majesty.' 'Away, my friend,' said the Countess, clasping her hands; and while the masked lady retired in evident alarm, I laid hand on my sword. 'Can my brother have come here at this untimeous hour?' muttered the Countess, as a servant entered with a hurried and disordered air. 'Ah, Madame la Comtesse----' 'Mon Dieu! what is the matter? Speak, Antoine--speak!' 'Your brother, madame--M. le Chevalier d'Ische--has this moment been brought hither in a fiacre almost dead, having fought with a brigand on the Quai de la Grève, and been run through the body!' 'My brother!' exclaimed Madame d'Amboise, growing pale as a lily, and turning her eyes wildly upon me; and at that moment, when I saw a wounded man borne by four servants past an opening in the parted arras, I felt as if the earth was yawning beneath my feet. So ended my first night in the city of Paris! CHAPTER V. THE COUNTESS'S BOUDOIR.