The hours passed away in what might be called a resultless association, since these diversions led to no conversation sufficiently serious to place the three gentlemen in a position to know one another. Madame de Beuvre, who had retired after dinner, reappeared about four o'clock, when she saw preparations being made in the courtyard for the departure of her guests. She proposed a walk in the garden before separating. VI It was late in October. The days had grown short, but were still mild and bright, the St. Martin's summer having not yet come to an end. The trees were quite bare, their graceful tracery outlined against the bright red sun just sinking behind the black thickets along the horizon. They walked over a bed of dry leaves along the paths lined with box-wood and trimmed yews, which imparted an orderly and dignified stiffness to the gardens of that period. In the moats fine old carp followed the promenaders, looking for the bread crumbs which Lauriane was accustomed to bring them. A little tame wolf also followed her like a dog, but was held in awe and tyrannized over by Monsieur de Beuvre's favorite spaniel, a playful young beast, who showed no aversion for his suspicious companion, but rolled him over and snapped at him with the superb indifference of a child of noble birth deigning to play with a serf. D'Alvimar, on the point of offering his arm to the fair Lauriane, paused as he saw Monsieur de Bois-Doré approach her, apparently with the same purpose. But the courtly marquis also stepped back. "It is your right," he said; "a guest like yourself should take precedence of friends; but pray appreciate the sacrifice I make to you." "I do appreciate it fully," replied D'Alvimar, as Lauriane placed her little hand lightly on his arm; "and of all your kindnesses to me, I value this most." "I am rejoiced to see," replied Bois-Doré, walking at Madame de Beuvre's left hand, "that you understand French gallantry as did his late majesty, our Henri, of blessed memory." "I trust that I have a better understanding of it than he, by your leave." "Oh! that is much to claim!" "We Spaniards understand it differently, at all events. We believe that a faithful attachment to a single woman is preferable to unmeaning gallantry toward all." "Oho! in that case, my dear count--you are a count, are you not, or a duke?--I beg your pardon, but you are a Spanish grandee, I know that, I can see it.--So you believe in the perfect loyalty of romance? There is nothing nobler, my dear guest, nothing nobler, on my word!" Monsieur de Beuvre called Bois-Doré away, to show him some trees that he had recently set out, and D'Alvimar took advantage of the interruption to ask Lauriane if Monsieur de Bois-Doré had intended to make sport of him. "By no means," she replied; "you must know that our dear marquis's favorite food is D'Urfé's romance, and he almost knows it by heart."