“It is better than no way at all!” replied the dame, regretting her remark when she saw her lady's face flush like crimson. The dame's opinions were rather the worse for wear in her long journey through life, and would not be adopted by a jury of prudes. “When I was the Charming Josephine,” continued she, “I had the love of half the gallants of Quebec, but not one offered his hand. What was I to do? 'Crook a finger, or love and linger,' as they say in Alençon, where I was born?” “Fie, dame! Don't say such things!” said Caroline, with a shamed, reproving look. “I would think better of the Intendant.” Her gratitude led her to imagine excuses for him. The few words reported to her by Dame Tremblay she repeated with silently moving lips and tender reiteration. They lingered in her ear like the fugue of a strain of music, sung by a choir of angelic spirits. “Those were his very words, dame?” added she again, repeating them--not for inquiry, but for secret joy. “His very words, my Lady! But why should the Royal Intendant not have his heart's desire as well as that great lady in France? If any one had forbidden my marrying the poor Sieur Tremblay, for whom I did not care two pins, I would have had him for spite--yes, if I had had to marry him as the crows do, on a tree-top!” “But no one bade you or forbade you, dame! You were happy that no one came between you and your heart's desire!” replied Caroline. Dame Tremblay laughed out merrily at the idea. “Poor Giles Tremblay my heart's desire! Listen, Lady, I could no more get that than you could. When I was the Charming Josephine there was but one, out of all my admirers, whom I really cared for, and he, poor fellow, had a wife already! So what was I to do? I threw my line at last in utter despair, and out of the troubled sea I drew the Sieur Tremblay, whom I married, and soon put cosily underground with a heavy tombstone on top of him to keep him down, with this inscription, which you may see for yourself, my Lady, if you will, in the churchyard where he lies: “'Ci gît mon Giles, Ah! qu'il est bien, Pour son répos, Et pour le mien!' “Men are like my Angora tabby: stroke them smoothly and they will purr and rub noses with you; but stroke them the wrong way and whirr! they scratch your hands and out of the window they fly! When I was the Charming--” “Oh, good dame, thanks! thanks! for the comfort you have given me!” interrupted Caroline, not caring for a fresh reminiscence of the Charming Josephine. “Leave me, I pray. My mind is in a sad tumult. I would fain rest. I have much to fear, but something also to hope for now,” she said, leaning back in her chair in deep and quiet thought. “The Château is very still now, my Lady,” replied the dame, “the servants are all worn out with long attendance and fast asleep. Let my Lady go to her own apartments, which are bright and airy. It will be better for her than this dull chamber.”