“On the contrary, Sire, I only desire that Mademoiselle d’Estrées should be seen, for then alone she can be appreciated.” “Say you so, Bellegarde? That is fair; will you bet a thousand crowns on Gabrielle against Marie?” “I accept, Sire; but how can we decide!” “You see the lady. It is easily managed. Do you visit her often?” “Your Majesty seemingly forgets I am engaged to marry her.” “I understand. Now, Bellegarde, I forbid you, as your sovereign and master, to see this fair lady, except in my company. _Par Dieu!_ I will refuse you leave of absence.” Bellegarde’s heart misgave him. The King’s vehemence alarms him. He saw too late the mistake that he has made. “Now, Bellegarde, don’t look like a doctor of the Sorbonne in a fix; Mademoiselle d’Estrées will not object if I go in your company?” “Your Majesty must consider that I have no excuse for introducing you,” replies he, with some hesitation. “Besides, consider, Sire, the roads are unsafe and skirmishers are abroad.” “Tut! tut! man; when did I ever care for that when a fair lady was in the way? I insist upon going, or you shall not either. Both or none. Listen how it shall be managed. I will disguise myself as--well, let me see--a Spaniard; no one will suspect me in that character. You shall introduce me as an Hidalgo, Don Juan, we will say”; and a wicked leer lights up his countenance. “Don Juan, your prisoner,--taken in a _mêlée_, now on parole; and my poor Chicot[20] shall go with us, too, for company.” Gabrielle was then living at the paternal Castle of Cœuvres, which stood on a wooded height between Soissons and Laon, with her father and her sisters. She was passionately attached to the seductive Bellegarde, and anticipated their speedy union with all imaginable happiness. One evening, while she was indulging in those agreeable musings proper to the state called “being in love,” Bellegarde was abruptly announced. He was accompanied by two gentlemen: one, short in stature, with a comical expression of countenance, was introduced as Monsieur Chicot; the other, by name “Don Juan,” neither tall nor short, but with very broad shoulders, had greyish hair, highly coloured cheeks, a swarthy skin, and was remarkable for a prominent nose and exceedingly audacious eyes. Gabrielle rose in haste and was about to fling her arms round Bellegarde, but, on seeing his two companions, she drew back, welcoming them all with a more formal courtesy.