She took great pains with me; a few false curls adroitly pinned on, and one of her own tall, coif-like Breton caps, of spotless white linen, completed my head gear. She patted my chin, and thanked Heaven I wore neither beard nor moustache; then I joined her in a hearty fit of laughter, on surveying myself in a mirror. "What would Jack Charters, Tom Kirkton, or other fellows of ours, say if they could see me thus!" was my first thought. Angelique taught me how to seat myself, and how to hold myself when seated; how to spread or gather my skirts when ascending or descending stairs; and she burst again and again into ringing fits of laughter at the length of ankle I exhibited. At last, after being well drilled, I was taken to the drawing-room, and with a heart that certainly palpitated, and a cheek that blushed truly with shame and ridicule, I was presented to madame, as the new attendant of mademoiselle--a girl from the wild marshes of the Morbihan. My costume was perfect, even to the black velvet necklet, which no Breton girl is ever without. Jacqueline grew very pale, but a smile twinkled in her tearful dark eyes, when she retired behind the chair of her aunt, who bowed politely, and surveyed me through her eyeglass, as I advanced, courtseying at every second step, my hands folded meekly across my breast, and my eyes cast modestly down, in a manner taught me by that pretty rogue, Angelique. The idea occurred to me that a candid confession of who I was, and the weight of the mutual service Jacqueline and I had rendered each other, would have been better than the adoption of this absurd and most dangerous disguise, which could only serve to complicate the perils of my present position; but there was no resource--I was in for it now! "Approach, girl," said the countess, "come nearer me. You have a very fair skin for a girl from the Morbihan." "My mother, madame, was an English woman," said I, courtseying lower; to have said a _Scots woman_ would have served my purpose better in France, for the countess said, sharply-- "So much the worse--so much the worse, girl! You have, however, I hope, been well instructed in all religious duties, and never omit mass or confession." "Mon Père Celestine will answer for me," said I, confident that the good priest would protect me, whatever came to pass. "_Très bien_! I expect him to visit us in a few days, together with the Comte de Boisguiller, Commandant of St. Malo." (This reply, like a double-headed shot, was not very restoring), "but why do you require a _second_ attendant, Jacqueline--is not Angelique enough for you? What is your name?" "Basile, madame, so please you." "Basile what?" (The deuce take it! I had not thought of a name.) "Basile Gantelet," said Angelique, replying for me. "Your parents and family?----" "Were poor fisher people, all carried off by the English fleet, and are now in some horrid prison."