"Desert you for a Man!" said Henriette, breathlessly. "Why, the very idea that I could ever think such a thing. Dear, here is my right hand; take it and bear witness: I solemnly swear _never to marry till you yourself can see and approve my husband_!" The left hand of Louise traveled up till it met and lay flat on the other's upraised palm. An expression of happiness overspread the blind girl's face. She leaned over and kissed her sister. The two girls rose and left the old home of Evreux. CHAPTER II THE JOURNEY TO PARIS Locomotion in those pre-railroad days was by stage coach except for the rich and noble who rode in their chaises. The way of the diligence led past winding streams and bright meadows busy with haymakers; past picturesque water mills and stone chateaux, anon along tree-shaded avenues grateful in their coolness. Hard as the leathern seats were and however wearisome the ride, the girls forgot discomfort in Henriette's description of the sights and scenes and Louise's just as eager listening. Then at the stops the young women would get out and stretch their weary limbs whereof they suddenly became aware as the motion ceased. They were the only passengers, with unlimited time for the naive confidences which girlhood loves. "Are you sure that Cousin Martin will really meet us at the Paris coach house?" asked the blind sister anxiously. "I wrote him that we were coming," replied Henriette simply. "Of course he will be there and awaiting our arrival." "But if he should not--" "Then, we have his address and will go to his house. Never fear, little sister, it will be all right...." The lumbering coach-and-six did its hundred miles a day, bad roads or good roads. But within a few miles of Paris a whiffletree broke, the ungainly vehicle stopped, and the men jumped off to hold the horses and repair the damage. Henriette and Louise soon left the hard seats for a few minutes too. Down the other side of the narrow turn of the road where the accident had occurred, thundered the beautiful carved and gilded chaise of a famous nobleman, Marquis de Praille, accompanied by gallant outriders and backed by liveried footmen on the high rear seats. Inside the equipage were the Marquis and his commissionaire La Fleur. The black and dusty old stage coach blocked the way. As the aristocrat's journey rudely stopped, with the chaise horses thrown back on their haunches, a bewigged and powdered head was thrust out of the window, roaring: "What is the meaning of this?" Descending presently with his follower to survey the scene, the noble Marquis enraged at the blocking of his day's pleasuring belabored the chief ostler with his cane. Smartly the blows rained down on the cowering sufferer, alternate right and left in rhythmic strokes that touched each and several part of the canaille anatomy.