De Blenau pressed her to his heart, and again and again thanked the lips that had spoken such kind words, in the way that such lips may best be thanked.--"Dearest Pauline," said De Blenau, after enjoying a moment or two of that peculiar happiness which shines but once or twice even in the brightest existence, giving a momentary taste of heaven, and then losing itself, either in human cares, or less vivid joys.--The heart is a garden, and youth is its spring, and hope is its sunshine, and love is a thorny plant, that grows up and bears one bright flower, which has nothing like it in all the earth-- "Dearest Pauline," said De Blenau, "I leave you for a time, that I may return and satisfy every doubt. Within one hour all shall be explained." As he spoke, the door of the apartment opened, and one of the servants of the Palace entered, with a face of some alarm. "Monsieur de Blenau," said he, "I beg a thousand pardons for intruding, but there have been, but now, at the Palace gate, two men of the Cardinal's guard inquiring for you: so I told them that you were most likely at the other side of the Park, for--for--" and after hesitating a moment, he added, "They are the same who arrested Monsieur de Vitry." De Blenau started. "Fly, fly, Claude!" exclaimed Pauline, catching him eagerly by the arm--"Oh fly, dear Claude, while there is yet time. I am sure they seek some evil towards you." "You have done well," said De Blenau to the attendant. "I will speak to you as I come down.--Dearest Pauline," he continued when the man was gone--"I must see what these gentlemen want. Nay, do not look frightened; you are mistaken about their errand. I have nothing to fear, believe me. Some trifling business, no doubt. In the mean time, I shall not neglect my original object. In half an hour all your doubts shall be satisfied." "I have none, Claude," replied Pauline; "indeed I have none, but about these men." De Blenau endeavoured to calm her, and assured her again and again that there was no danger. But Pauline was not easy, and the Count himself had more suspicions concerning their object than he would suffer to appear. CHAPTER IX. Containing a great deal that would not have been said had it not been necessary. In front of the Palace of St. Germain's, but concealed from the park and terrace by an angle of the building, stood the Count de Chavigni, apparently engaged in the very undignified occupation of making love to a pretty-looking soubrette, no other than Louise, the waiting-maid of Mademoiselle de Beaumont. But, notwithstanding the careless nonchalance with which he affected to address her, it was evident that he had some deeper object in view than the trifling of an idle hour. "Well, _ma belle_," said he, after a few words of a more tender nature, "you are sure the Surgeon said, though the wound is in his side, his heart is uninjured?"