I had still the miniature of that gay countess, and while whistling or humming an air to wile away the lonely two hours of my watch, I occasionally, by a lamp that hung overhead, surveyed this effort of the pencil of Poussin, who had caught with wonderful skill her voluptuous style of beauty, the wanton lustre that shone in her rich hazel eye, and the seductive droop of her eyelash. Two old crones connected with the palace amused me for some time by gravely discussing whether Madame la Marechale d'Ancre really lodged devils at her house in Paris, and consequently deserved the stake; and then of the newer sorceries of Urbain Grandier among the poor nuns at Loudun, in the Vienne, which began to be much talked of about that time; and as all the ladies were in turn possessed by devils, which were only expelled by bringing them before a statue of our Lady of Recovery, the Carmelites, its possessors, were making quite a fortune by the fame of its miracles. After a little, the two crones shut their windows, and all became still and silent, save the strains of music that came at times from the illuminated windows of the Hôtel de Bourbon, which stood opposite; and now the time approached when the venerable clock of St. Germain l'Auxerrois would toll the hour for relieving me until morning. A dark figure, about a pistol-shot distant, glided across the rays of light that fell from the Hotel windows towards the postern, and attracted my attention. 'Qui vive?' I challenged. Without replying, a female, masked, and shrouded from head to foot in a long black veil, approached hurriedly, and, to my great surprise, laid a hand timidly upon my arm, saying-- 'Ah! M. Arthur, I overheard some one say you were on duty here.' 'At your service, mademoiselle,' I replied, while my heart beat rapidly on recognising my little masker of the Place de la Grève, Nicola, the attendant of the Countess; 'but why are you alone here, and at this time of night?' 'Why was I alone that night in the Quai de la Grève?' 'I know not; you are a charming enigma, Nicola; but twelve will strike shortly. Ah! mademoiselle, if you have a lover!' 'I have been at the masque in the Hotel de Bourbon; I have been close to the Cardinal twenty times, and heard him discuss some notable projects with the Chevalier Hepburn and the Duke de Lavalette.' 'Projects--concerning what?' 'The war in Lorraine.' 'Then your information will be of considerable value to my friend, M. le Chevalier d'Ische,' said I, angrily. 'Hush!' said she, haughtily, and with alarm, while she cast a rapid glance over the mighty mass of the Louvre; 'it is not of d'Ische, but of yourself I came to speak.' 'A thousand thanks, dear mademoiselle,' said I, surveying with a new emotion of pleasure her beautiful golden hair, which shone beneath her veil, in the lamp that swung in the archway above me. She trembled, and said--