“That is a matter that concerns no one but myself,” replied the young girl, rising from the mossy bank on which she had been reclining during the whole time the ballet lasted. “Now, mesdemoiselles, we have agreed to amuse ourselves to-night without any one to overlook us, and without any escort. We are three in number, we like one another, and the night is lovely. Look yonder, do you not see the moon slowly rising, silvering the topmost branches of the chestnuts and the oaks. Oh, beautiful walk! sweet liberty! exquisite soft turf of the woods, the happiness which your friendship confers upon me! let us walk arm in arm towards those large trees. Out yonder all are at this moment seated at table and fully occupied, or preparing to adorn themselves for a set and formal promenade; horses are being saddled, or harnessed to the carriages--the queen’s mules or Madame’s four white ponies. As for ourselves, we shall soon reach some retired spot where no eyes can see us and no step follow ours. Do you not remember, Montalais, the woods of Cheverny and of Chambord, the innumerable rustling poplars of Blois, where we exchanged our mutual hopes?” “And confidences too?” “Yes.” “Well,” said Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente, “I also think a good deal; but I take care--” “To say nothing,” said Montalais, “so that when Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente thinks, Athenais is the only one who knows it.” “Hush!” said Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente, “I hear steps approaching from this side.” “Quick, quick, then, among the high reed-grass,” said Montalais; “stoop, Athenais, you are so tall.” Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente stooped as she was told, and, almost at the same moment, they saw two gentlemen approaching, their heads bent down, walking arm in arm, on the fine gravel walk running parallel with the bank. The young girls had, indeed, made themselves small--indeed invisible. “It is Monsieur de Guiche,” whispered Montalais in Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente’s ear. “It is Monsieur de Bragelonne,” whispered the latter to La Vallière. The two young men approached still closer, conversing in animated tones. “She was here just now,” said the count. “If I had only seen her, I should have declared it to be a vision, but I spoke to her.” “You are positive, then?” “Yes; but perhaps I frightened her.” “In what way?” “Oh! I was still half crazy at you know what; so that she could hardly have understood what I was saying, and must have grown alarmed.” “Oh!” said Bragelonne, “do not make yourself uneasy: she is all kindness, and will excuse you; she is clear-sighted, and will understand.” “Yes, but if she should have understood, and understood too well, she may talk.” “You do not know Louise, count,” said Raoul. “Louise possesses every virtue, and has not a single fault.” And the two young men passed on, and, as they proceeded, their voices were soon lost in the distance.