‘Well, we’ll see what can be done,’ replied he; ‘and before dinner’s over, perhaps I may find some means to forward you.’ With this he left the room, leaving mademoiselle and myself _tête-à- tête_. And here let me confess, never did any man feel his situation more awkwardly than I did mine at that moment; and before any of my younger and more ardent brethren censure me, let me at least ‘show cause’ in my defence. First, I myself, however unintentionally, had brought Mademoiselle Laura into her present embarrassment; but for me and the confounded roan she had been at that moment cantering away pleasantly with the Comte d’Espagne beside her, listening to his _fleurettes_ and receiving his attentions. Secondly, I was, partly from bashfulness, partly from fear, little able to play the part my present emergency demanded, which should either have been one of downright indifference and ease, or something of a more tender nature, which indeed the very pretty companion of my travels might have perfectly justified. ‘Well,’ said she, after a considerable pause, ‘this is about the most ridiculous scrape I’ve ever been involved in. What _will_ they think at the château?’ ‘If they saw your horse when he bolted----’ ‘Of course they did,’ said she; ‘but what could they do? The Comte d’Espagne is always mounted on a slow horse: _he_ couldn’t overtake me; then the _maîtres_ couldn’t pass the grand maître.’ ‘What!’ cried I, in amazement; ‘I don’t comprehend you perfectly.’ ‘It’s quite clear, nevertheless,’ replied she; ‘but I see you don’t know the rules of the _chasse_ in Flanders.’