When the ex-lieutenant's cunning valet had spoken of the irresistible power of his master in all love affairs, the fair sex of the kitchen had cried out against him as uttering an insult to them all. But the man of much experience had smiled mysteriously, leaning back in his chair, after the manner of his master, and looking askant, but with a most expressive twinkle of the eye at one of the ladies, who had shown the deepest moral indignation, and the highest degree of eloquence in the unprofitable discussion. At this glance pretty Louisa had suddenly turned very red and become silent, so that she attracted the notice even of the taciturn coachman, who gravely repeated his former remark, that all was not gold that glitters. Thereupon pretty Louisa had begun to cry, and the old cook had risen and openly charged the valet with an unfair attempt to injure a poor girl by vile insinuations and "hateful looks." The adroit fellow, seeing that he had gone too far, immediately retraced his steps and assured them that his remarks had not been intended for anybody present, and that the twinkling of his eye was perfectly accidental. This very loyal and perfectly parliamentary explanation had finally restored peace in the company assembled around the kitchen fire. Unfortunately, however, matters were exactly as the great man had suggested--betraying, it is true, the secrecy which was due to his master as a faithful servant, and which he was disposed to claim as a special merit of his own. Baron Felix had the bad habit--bad for himself and bad for his valet--of falling in love with every pretty girl whom he met on his way through life, although it might be only for a few days, hours, or even minutes, and to avail himself of every possible opportunity for an intrigue. Thus he had not been twenty hours at the château before he had found out that mademoiselle and pretty Louisa were the two persons who might help him kill time at this tiresome place, and during his troublesome courtship. Albert, his old comrade in many a similar heroic affair, when they were both cadets, had given him information about mademoiselle, and Jean, the valet, had received orders to see how the land lay about pretty Louisa. Albert had considered for a moment, thinking it might not be amiss to favor Felix, so as to make his intimacy with mademoiselle a pretext for himself, if he should wish to break with her at some future time. But finally the hatred he felt against his former comrade, the lucky fool, and a kind of jealousy he felt most unaccountably, had carried the day. He assured Felix that mademoiselle had told him herself of her positive engagement "to a candidate of divinity," heaven knows where, probably in Grunwald; that he had tried himself to get into her good graces, but as he had failed, he was quite sure any effort to succeed with the "black-eyed Genevese girl" would be fruitless.