"The Countess de St. Alyre _is_, unquestionably, the lady to whom I hoped for an introduction to-night; but I beg to assure you also on the honour of a gentleman, that she has not the faintest imaginable suspicion that I was seeking such an honour, nor, in all probability, does she remember that such a person as I exists. I had the honour to render her and the Count a trifling service, too trifling, I fear, to have earned more than an hour's recollection." "The world is not so ungrateful as you suppose; or if it be, there are, nevertheless, a few hearts that redeem it. I can answer for the Countess de St. Alyre, she never forgets a kindness. She does not show all she feels; for she is unhappy, and cannot." "Unhappy! I feared, indeed, that might be. But for all the rest that you are good enough to suppose, it is but a flattering dream." "I told you that I am the Countess's friend, and being so I must know something of her character; also, there are confidences between us, and I may know more than you think, of those trifling services of which you suppose the recollection is so transitory." I was becoming more and more interested. I was as wicked as other young men, and the heinousness of such a pursuit was as nothing, now that self-love and all the passions that mingle in such a romance, were roused. The image of the beautiful Countess had now again quite superseded the pretty counterpart of La Vallière, who was before me. I would have given a great deal to hear, in solemn earnest, that she did remember the champion who, for her sake, had thrown himself before the sabre of an enraged dragoon, with only a cudgel in his hand, and conquered. "You say the Countess is unhappy," said I. "What causes her unhappiness?" "Many things. Her husband is old, jealous, and tyrannical. Is not that enough? Even when relieved from his society, she is lonely." "But you are her friend?" I suggested. "And you think one friend enough?" she answered; "she has one alone, to whom she can open her heart." "Is there room for another friend?" "Try." "How can I find a way?" "She will aid you." "How?" She answered by a question. "Have you secured rooms in either of the hotels of Versailles?" "No, I could not. I am lodged in the Dragon Volant, which stands at the verge of the grounds of the Château de la Carque." "That is better still. I need not ask if you have courage for an adventure. I need not ask if you are a man of honour. A lady may trust herself to you, and fear nothing. There are few men to whom the interview, such as I shall arrange, could be granted with safety. You shall meet her at two o'clock this morning in the Park of the Château de la Carque. What room do you occupy in the Dragon Volant?" I was amazed at the audacity and decision of this girl. Was she, as we say in England, hoaxing me?