His cap had fallen off and his lovely, rippling fair hair lay spread about over the gravel in every direction.--His little open palms looked as if they were made of wax, they were so devoid of color. Rosette knelt beside him and tried to restore him to consciousness.--She had no salts or flask with her and her embarrassment was great. At last she discovered a deep rut in which the rain-water had collected and clarified; she dipped her fingers in it, to the great alarm of a little toad that was the naiad of that stream, and shook a few drops on the young page's blue-veined temples.--He did not seem to feel them, and the pearls of water rolled down his white cheeks as a sylph's tears roll down the leaf of a lily. Rosette, thinking that his clothes might distress him, unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his doublet and opened his shirt to give his lungs freer play.--Thereupon Rosette saw something that would have been the most agreeable of surprises to a man, but that seemed very far from affording her any pleasure--for her brows contracted and her upper lip trembled slightly;--she saw a snowy white breast, which was as yet undeveloped, but which made the fairest promises and already fulfilled many of them; a smooth and rounded breast, as white as ivory, and in the language of the Ronsardists, delicious to look at, more delicious to kiss. [Illustration: Chapter VII--_Rosette, thinking that his clothes might distress him, unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his doublet and opened his shirt to give his lungs freer play.--Thereupon Rosette saw something that would have been the most agreeable of surprises to a man, but that seemed very far from affording her any pleasure_----] "A woman!" she exclaimed, "a woman! ah! Théodore!" Isnabel--for we will continue to call him by that name, although it was not his--began to show some signs of life and languidly raised his long eyelashes; he was not wounded in any way, he was simply stunned.--He soon sat up and, with Rosette's assistance, was able to stand and remount his horse, which had stopped as soon as he felt that his rider was gone. They rode slowly to the pool, where they found the remainder of the hunting party. Rosette in a few words told Théodore what had happened.--He changed color several times during her recital, and throughout the rest of the ride he kept his horse close beside Isnabel's. They returned to the château betimes; the day that had begun so joyously, had a decidedly melancholy ending. Rosette was in a meditative mood and D'Albert seemed as deeply engrossed in his reflections. The reader will soon learn what had given rise to them. VIII