"I am not going to refuse you, my pretty demoiselle," replied the Porter; "though, truly, you speak more like a lady of quality than a Woodman's daughter. Now I'll swear you are Madame la Comtesse's _suivante_. Nay, do not toss your head so impatiently; your father will be here in a minute; he knows of your having called at the wicket this morning, and is to come here to see you at seven--But here is the Governor, as I live--going to take a twilight walk, I suppose." As he spoke, the Governor approached: "Whom have you got here, porter?" he asked, while he eyed Pauline with one of those cool luxurious glances that made her shrink. "This is the Woodman's daughter, Sir," replied the man, "who wishes to speak with her father." "By the keys of St. Peter! which are something in my own way," exclaimed the Governor, "thou art a beautiful daughter for a Woodman. Art thou sure thy mother did not help thee to a better parentage? What is thy father's name?" Terrified, confused, and ignorant of the Woodman's name, Pauline faltered forth, unconscious of what she said, "I do not know." "Ha! ha! ha! thou sayest well, my pretty damsel," cried the Governor laughing, and thinking that she answered his jest in kind. "It is a wise father that knows his own child; and why not a wise child that knows his own father? But without a joke, what is your supposed father's name?" "My supposed father!" repeated Pauline, in the same state of perturbation; "Oh, Philip the Woodman." "Nay, nay," replied the Governor, "that does not answer my meaning either. What is the surname of this Philip the Woodman?" The impossibility of answering overpowered her. Pauline had not the most remote idea of Philip's name, and another instant would indubitably have betrayed all; but at the moment the Governor asked his question, Philip had entered the court. He had heard the last sentence, saw Pauline's embarrassment, and divining its cause, with quick presence of mind caught her in his arms, and kissed her on both cheeks, with that sort of fatherly affection which would have deceived the Governor's eyes by day, much less by the fainter light of the lanterns in the archway. "My dear child!" cried he, "how art thou? and how is thy mother?" And then turning to the Governor, without giving her time to reply, he went on, "My name, Sir, which you were asking but now, is Philip Grissolles, but I am better known by the name of Philip the Woodman, and some folks add the name of the wood, and call me Philip the Woodman of Mantes."