With his knowledge of her disposition, he did not conceal from himself that great difficulties attended his task. However lightly the cynical Abbé might esteem a woman’s virtue, his experience taught him not to underrate the obstinacy of a woman’s pride. That his cousin, in common with her family, possessed an abundance of the latter quality, he was well aware, and he played his game accordingly. It was his design to compromise her by a _coup-de-main_, after he had sapped her defences to the utmost by the arguments of ambition and self-interest. Like all worldly men in their dealings with women, he undervalued both her strength and her weakness—her aversion to the Regent, and her fancy for the Musketeer; this even while he made use of the latter to overcome the former sentiment. If she could be induced by any means, however fraudulent, to grant the Prince an interview at night in her own gardens, he argued, that first step would have been taken, which it is always so difficult to retract; and to bring this about, he had forged Captain George’s signature to the polite note which had proved so effectual in luring the Marquise down the terrace steps, and across the velvet lawn, under the irresistible temptation of a meeting by moonlight with the man she loved. As a measure of mere politeness, connected with certain military precautions, of course! But under such circumstances it would appear that _one_ Musketeer ought to be company enough for _one_ lady at a time. Cerise, viewing the performances from her window above, might have come to the conclusion, had she not been too anxious, agitated, terrified, to retain full possession of her faculties, that the arrival of a few more of these guardsmen on such a scene, at such a crisis, was conducive rather to tumult and bloodshed than appropriate conversation. Captain George, stopping short in his eager though stealthy advance towards the white figure flitting noiselessly across the lawn, first thought he was dreaming; next, that he beheld a spectral or illusive image of himself, denoting near approach of death; lastly, that the discipline of the corps had become relaxed to a degree which his military indignation resolved should be severely visited within an hour, though he abandoned his command the next. A Grey Musketeer, hatted, cloaked, booted precisely like himself, was advancing from the direction of the guard-house towards the white figure, that now stopped short as if expecting him. While yet a few feet apart, both stood still, and Captain George, in dark shadow at ten paces’ distance, not only recognised the Marquise by her voice, but saw her face distinctly, as she turned it towards the moonlight, framed in its masses of black hair. His heart beat calmly now, and he was the cool resolute man of action once more. She was the first to speak, and though they trembled a little, very soft and musical fell her tones on the listener’s ear.