With Eugenie it was different. She was both surprised and agitated; for the last person she had expected, yet the person she had most wished to see, was the Marquis of St. Real. It was natural enough, too, that she should desire to see him: she had known him from her infancy; she had learned, in the early habits of unrestrained intercourse, to look upon him as a brother; she had found him always kind and gentle in his affections, clear and just in his opinions, and firm and noble in his principles; and, in the friendless and orphan state in which she was now left, there was no one to whom she so longed to apply for advice, assistance, and protection as to Huon of St. Real. At one time, indeed, in her utter ignorance of the selfishness of faction, she had contemplated applying to the Duke of Mayenne for permission to retire to the castle of the old Marquis of St. Real, whose neutrality between the contending parties of the day, she had fondly fancied, might obviate the objections which the leader of the League would entertain to any other asylum not within the immediate grasp of his own power. There was, however, in her bosom a vague unacknowledged consciousness of feelings, which she wished not to render more distinct--a sort of apprehension lest the world should attribute to her motives that she would have shrunk from entertaining --which made her hesitate so long in regard to giving voice to her request, that ere she decided the tidings reached her that the old lord was dead, and that the refuge which she might otherwise have hoped to find in his dwelling was consequently shut against her forever. Her thoughts, then, had often been busy with St. Real; she had often longed to see him, to speak with him, to confide her situation, her fears, her anxieties, her danger, to one in whom she was sure to find a kind and feeling auditor. With these wishes, however, no hopes had been combined. She knew, or believed she knew, that St. Real's principles would lead him to join the royal party; and that, therefore, unless he entered Paris as a victor or a prisoner, there was little chance of his visiting the capital. Madame de Montpensier, in summoning her to the Hotel de Guise, had given her no information of the object for which she was called thither; and she had obeyed with some degree of alarm, which had not been decreased by an apparent inattention and want of courtesy on the part of the Duchess, evinced by leaving her for nearly half an hour unnoticed in the wide and solitary chamber to which she had been ushered on her first arrival. Her sensations, therefore, on beholding St. Real, were purely those of surprise and pleasure; but they reached the height of agitation.