'By two tipsy gallants who, deeming me a grisette, I presume, have pursued me all the way from the Logis de Lorraine; but hark! you hear them,--I must leave you--' 'Alone--alone and here!' 'Yes.' 'Oh, madame, think of the hour, the place--your beauty--' 'Enough; a carriage waits me at the Pont de Notre Dame.' ''Tis well,' said I, unsheathing my sword; 'your molesters shall not pass this way if I can prevent them.' 'Oh! a thousand thanks brave sir,' said she with a shudder on seeing the shining steel, and holding out her ungloved hand. 'Madame, I risk my life for you, and you give me but your hand to kiss!' 'What! do you too take me for a grisette?' she asked with a haughty smile as she lifted her little mask. I kissed her cheek, and in a moment she slipped from my arm and was gone! Her face was more than beautiful; but I had no time to think upon it, and stood sword in hand in the centre of the Quai de la Grève, barring the passage of two men, cloaked, masked, and armed, who came boldly up to me, singing with the brusque air of tipsy roisterers. CHAPTER II. A CASE OF RAPIERS. I dreaded being robbed and consequently of perchance losing the duke's letter to Madame d'Amboise--a letter which contained the destiny of my life. I had nothing valuable to lose besides but my life, and, strange to say, I valued it less than my letter. Wrapped in my cloak, I stood with rapier on guard right in the centre of the Quai, while the cavaliers came close up to me. Both were, as I have said, masked, armed, and cloaked; and moreover were taller and, to all appearance, stouter than I. One was singing that gay and lively song in which the people of Lower Normandy still remember the mother of the English conqueror--the wife of Herluin, the Comte de Conteville; and his companion joined vigorously in the gay chorus. 'De Guillaume-le-Conquérant Chantons l'historiette; Il nâquit cet illustre enfant D'une simple amourette. Le hazard fait souvent les grands: Vive le fils d'Harlette! _Normands, Vive le fils d'Harlette!_' 'Fille d'un simple pelletier Elle était gentilette: Robert en galant chevalier, Vint lui center fleurette; L'amour égale tous les rangs: Vive le fils d'Harlette! _Normands, Vive le fils d'Harlette!_' Pausing in his song, the singer came scornfully up to me with one hand on his sword and the other on his moustache, saying, 'Pardieu--you saw one of the most inconstant of God's creatures pass this way?' 'To the point, monsieur,' said I, 'what do you mean?' 'A woman--you saw her?' 'Yes,' I replied, still barring the way with my sword. 'Pretty, and with a modest air which would have deceived the devil himself.' 'Perhaps so.' 'And which way went she?' demanded both imperiously. 'My sword is drawn to answer you,' I replied, considerably ruffled by the brusquerie of their bearing.