"Pardon me, my aunt," said he, "it is worse than useless for us two to discuss this business. I am afraid I have made a mistake indeed, and one that is like enough to cause no little bitterness and trouble. Yet I do not regret it for one moment," he added, as he thought of the few loving words with which Marguerite had confessed her long-cherished affection for him. "Whatever you may think, my aunt, I have acted honestly and in good faith, and it will rest with my father to decide how all this is to end. I shall appeal to him at once. Nay, I beseech you, my good aunt," he continued, seeing the baroness about to break forth again, "let us not make things worse by useless altercation. With your permission I will relieve you of my presence, and will desire Jasmin to order our horses that I may return at once to Beaujardin." Without giving Madame de Valricour time for any further comment, Isidore then bowed to her and withdrew. [Illustration: Tailpiece to Chapter II] [Illustration: Headpiece to Chapter III] CHAPTER III. Isidore had scarcely quitted the terrace before he was accosted by Clotilde's maid, who begged him to come to her young mistress without delay, and he soon reached his fair cousin's boudoir. He found her trying to cheer up poor Marguerite, but not very successfully, it must be owned, for Clotilde's spirits were always of the highest, and her thoughtless raillery increased rather than allayed her friend's distress. "Mercy on us!" she exclaimed as Isidore made his appearance. "If any one ever deserved the name of 'the knight of the rueful countenance' it is certainly my doughty cousin. Well, if men put on that dismal face when their lady-loves accept them, I shall certainly always say 'no' for their sakes, if not for my own." "Nay, but, my dear, sweet cousin," said Isidore, "I entreat you to be serious for half an hour, or even for a few minutes, if you can. Has not Marguerite told you?" "She has told me that you have fallen in love with her, and I suppose that mamma does not like it. I have not got further than that as yet, and I do not think that is anything so very, very awful." "Not if that were really all, my dear cousin; but the baroness, it seems, had taken it into her head that I was in love with you. It is too absurd. Can you imagine anything so ridiculous?" "I am infinitely obliged to you for your politeness, Monsieur de Beaujardin, in supposing it to be so very ridiculous that any one should fall in love with _me_. Why, there is my devoted cousin, the Duke de St. Menehould, who would make me his duchess any day, if I had but a million of livres for my dowry, to say nothing of the Sieur de Crillon, who declares he is dying for me, and would have married mo long ago, if mamma had not made up her mind that I should have my most uncivil cousin de Beaujardin. Dear me, only think, though, how dreadful it would have been if mamma had fancied I was in love with you!"