These words seemed lost on the page—he paced the chamber like one irresolute of action—his dark eye flashing brightly, and then sunk in gloom. Suddenly approaching the lady with a vehemence and hastiness which startled her, he exclaimed abruptly, though in a low tone— “Chance, and the employment which falls to my lot, have made me acquainted with the proceedings against Monsieur De Pontis, even more than is suspected by the cardinal. I owe you atonement, and you must confess that I risk life, or liberty, or both, in making the reparation I offer—but I deem no task too heavy or too perilous, which will assist the hopes of Mademoiselle De Pontis.” There was a warmth in this declaration, an earnestness of gaze and speech which caused Marguerite’s eyes to seek the ground. “I cannot accept services bestowed at such risk,” said the maiden faltering. “Then my safety has interest in your eyes—or do I flatter myself too much?” asked the page. The roses blushed deeply in the cheek of Marguerite—there was a flutter at the heart—a confusion which took away the power of reply. With much to offend delicacy, could she take offence at an offer which bore the impress of sincerity? Could she sacrifice the proffered aid to her parent? Might he not be in possession of the information so coveted by Monsieur Giraud, information so much more valuable since she had learned the intention of the cardinal to avoid granting an audience? But was she justified in receiving intelligence conveyed at such peril by the rash youth? These thoughts chasing each other, produced a state of mind favorable to the ardent wishes of the page. He saw her irresolution, and in the recklessness of the sudden passion he had conceived for the damsel, was resolved to risk fortune, character and liberty in her service. Higher aims and loftier destinies than a page’s state, have been flung away for the favoring smile of woman’s eye! He had the art to avoid all allusion to his passion, and dilating only on the pity felt for the unfortunate veteran, and the distress his imprisonment must have caused the daughter—his own indignation at the artifices used and still in store to deprive the warrior of the well-earned bounty of royalty—he thus removed the obstacles which the maidenly delicacy of Marguerite would have interposed in the acceptation of a stranger’s services—and whose first introduction afforded little promise of gentle feelings and regard for her own sex. François De Romainville, in devoting himself to the service of Marguerite with such total disregard of the dreaded Richelieu, gave one more proof of a headlong career. He had been twice imprisoned in the _Palais_ for disobedience of the cardinal’s orders, and retained his post only through superior activity and intelligence, qualities of which the potential minister had much need. The indignity he suffered, or believed that he suffered, by the confinement, had created a bitter animosity against his master.