“Yes, I went through Ris and Melun, and I continued to go on, more and more surprised that I did not see him returning; and here I am at Fontainebleau; I look for and inquire after De Guiche everywhere, but no one has seen him, no one in the town has spoken to him; he arrived riding at full gallop, he entered the chateau; and there he has disappeared. I have been here at Fontainebleau since eight o’clock this evening inquiring for De Guiche in every direction, but no De Guiche can be found. I am dying with uneasiness. You understand that I have not been running my head into the lion’s den, in entering the chateau, as my imprudent friend has done; I came at once to the servants’ offices, and I succeeded in getting a letter conveyed to you; and now, for Heaven’s sake, my dear young lady, relieve me from my anxiety.” “There will be no difficulty in that, my dear M. Manicamp; your friend De Guiche has been admirably received.” “Bah!” “The king made quite a fuss over him.” “The king, who exiled him!” “Madame smiled upon him, and Monsieur appears to like him better than ever.” “Ah! ah!” said Manicamp, “that explains to me, then, why and how he has remained. And did he not say anything about me?” “Not a word.” “That is very unkind. What is he doing now?” “In all probability he is asleep, or, if not asleep, dreaming.” “And what have they been doing all the evening?” “Dancing.” “The famous ballet? How did De Guiche look?” “Superb!” “Dear fellow! And now, pray forgive me, Mademoiselle Montalais; but all I now have to do is pass from where I now am to your apartment.” “What do you mean?” “I cannot suppose that the door of the chateau will be opened for me at this hour; and as for spending the night upon this branch, I possibly might not object to do so, but I declare it is impossible for any other animal than a boa-constrictor to do it.” “But, M. Manicamp, I cannot introduce a man over the wall in that manner.” “Two, if you please,” said a second voice, but in so timid a tone that it seemed as if its owner felt the utter impropriety of such a request. “Good gracious!” exclaimed Montalais, “who is that speaking to me?” “Malicorne, Mademoiselle Montalais.” And as Malicorne spoke, he raised himself from the ground to the lowest branches, and thence to the height of the wall. “Monsieur Malicorne! why, you are both mad!” “How do you do, Mademoiselle Montalais?” inquired Malicorne. “I needed but this!” said Montalais, in despair. “Oh! Mademoiselle Montalais,” murmured Malicorne; “do not be so severe, I beseech you.” “In fact,” said Manicamp, “we are your friends, and you cannot possibly wish your friends to lose their lives; and to leave us to pass the night on these branches is in fact condemning us to death.” “Oh!” said Montalais, “Monsieur Malicorne is so robust that a night passed in the open air with the beautiful stars above him will not do him any harm, and it will be a just punishment for the trick he has played me.”