We cannot pause here to describe the scene. All was splendour and amusement; and in the light Court of France the circumstances in which Marie de Clairvaut was placed were sufficient to draw around her all the gay, and the gallant, and the idle. Unaccustomed to such scenes--less accustomed, indeed, than even she was--the eye of Charles of Montsoreau turned towards her from time to time, with perhaps some anxiety, to see how she would bear the homage that was paid to her; whether, in short, it would be the same Marie de Clairvaut in the midst of flattery and adulation and that bright and glittering scene, that it had been with him in the calm quiet of country life, in more than one solitary journey, and in many a scene of peril, danger, and distress. Whenever he looked that way, however, he saw the same sweet, calm, retiring demeanour; and more than once he found her eyes seeking him out in some distant part of the hall, and her lips light up with a bright smile as soon as their glances met. He felt, and he felt proudly, that there was none there present who could doubt that her guardian's choice was her own also. With the irregularity which marked all Henry's conduct at that period, after remaining for half an hour with the appearance of the utmost enjoyment, the King suddenly became sombre and gloomy; and, after biting his lip and knitting his brow for a few minutes, turned and quitted the hall. All was immediately the confusion of departure, and Charles of Montsoreau made his way across to where the Duke of Guise was seen standing, towering above all the rest. The young Count had remarked, that in the course of the evening the Duke had been speaking long and eagerly with a lady of extraordinary beauty, who stood at some distance from the royal party; and he had heard her named as the Marchioness of Noirmontier, with a light jest from more than one tongue at her intimacy with the Duke. When he now reached the side of that Prince she had passed on, and was bending over Mademoiselle de Clairvaut, and speaking to her with a look of tenderness and admiration. "Come on Count, come on," said the Duke, in a low but somewhat sharp tone, as soon as his young friend joined him. And they advanced to the side of the two ladies at the moment that Madame de Noirmontier was urging Marie to spend a few days with her at her beautiful château some way down the Loire. The Duke, however, did not suffer his ward to reply. "I fear, dear Madam," he said in a decided and somewhat stern tone, "that it cannot be." The colour rushed violently up into the cheeks of Madame de Noirmontier, and the tears seemed ready to spring into her eyes. But the Duke added, "Logères, escort Marie back to my apartments. If you will permit me, Madam, I will be your attendant to your carriage, and explain why my young ward cannot have the extreme pleasure and honour you intended for her."