My heart swelled as the Marquis spoke. This handsome young noble was then in his thirtieth year. George, Lord Gordon, was styled marquis in France, being eldest son and heir-apparent of that Marquis of Huntly, who was Lieutenant of the North and commander of the insurgent Scottish Catholics who defeated the king's troops at the battle of Benrinnes. 'You have come at a fortunate time, sir. A war with Lorraine and the vaunting empire is now in every man's mouth; and I shall be glad to rally round king Louis every Scottish gentleman who may be useful to his cause. His ministers have already drawn up the plan of the campaign at the Louvre.' 'Indeed, ma foi! they have lost no time,' said the Countess, fanning herself vehemently. 'The frontiers of Lorraine and Alsace are all as well known to us as the Boulevardes.' The attendant of the Countess, who listened intently to all that passed, trembled very perceptibly at these words, and I could perceive that when the Countess glanced at her, she blushed to the temples. 'When we unfurl the oriflamme beyond the Rhine,' resumed the Marquis, clanking his steel spurs; 'ma foi! madame, but we shall make the kettle-drums boil, ere we run short of provant.' A cloud crossed the beautiful face of Clara d'Amboise, but a smile chased it away. 'You forget, Marquis,' said she, 'that my mother was a lady of Lorraine; and to speak thus in my boudoir is merely to imitate Rodomont in the old romance. He was ever noisy and furious.' The Marquis laughed, showing teeth as white as her own under a moustache as dark as her eyebrows; and he replied,-- 'Pardon me, madame; but while in your presence in future, I shall be dumb on this subject, and every other you dislike--ay! dumb as--' 'The old bell of Burgundy,' added Clara, laughing. 'Dumb as--what, madame?' 'The old bell which Clotaire II. carried away from the church of Notre Dame de Soissons, that stood in a pleasant valley by the banks of the Aisne. The successors of Clovis had made Soissons the seat of the empire, and as this old bell had been rung there on a thousand joyful occasions, it resented to such a degree its removal to Paris that it became dumb, and all the bell-ringers in the city could not elicit a sound from it. "Diable!" said king Clotaire, "this bell shows very bad taste, indeed, not to like our city of Paris." So he sent it back to its old belfry; and the moment it found itself swinging securely in the ancient church of Notre Dame de Soissons it rung for seven hours, though untouched by mortal hand, and rung so loudly, too, as to be heard for seven miles down the valley of the Aisne.' 'A marvellous story--but scarcely suited to the days of Louis XIII.' 'Scarcely,' added the Countess; and as the last chesnut braid of her magnificent hair was finished, she smiled gaily, and said to her attendant, 'You, my dear Nicola, may leave us now.'