The king was in great good humor, and nothing could have been more flattering or more gracious than Raoul de St. Renan’s reception. Louis had heard that very morning of the fair Melanie’s arrival in the city, and nothing could have fallen out more _apropos_ than the intention of her quondam lover to depart at this very juncture, and that, too, for an indefinite period, from the land of his birth. Rejoicing inwardly at his good fortune, and of course, ascribing the conduct of the young man to pique and disappointment, the king, while he loaded him with honors and attentions, did not neglect to encourage him in his intention of departing on a very early day, and even offered to facilitate his departure by making some remissions in his behalf from the strict regulations of the Douane. All this was perfectly comprehensible to Raoul; but he was far too wise to suffer any one, even his uncle, to perceive that he understood it; and while he profited to the utmost by the readiness which he found in high places to smooth away all the difficulties from his path, he laughed in his sleeve as he thought what would be the fury of the licentious and despotic sovereign when he should discover that the very steps which he had taken to remove a dangerous rival, had actually cast the lady into that rival’s arms. Nor had this measure of Raoul’s been less effectual in sparing Melanie much grief and vexation, than it had proved in facilitating his own schemes of escape; for on that very day, within an hour after his reception of St. Renan, the king caused information to be conveyed to the marquis de Ploermel that the presentation of madame should be deferred until such time as the vicomte de St. Renan should have set sail for Acadie, which it was expected would take place within a month at the furthest. That evening when Rose Faverney was admitted to the young lord’s presence, through the agency of the enamored Jules, she brought him permission to visit her lady at midnight in her own chamber; and she brought with her a plan, sketched by Melanie’s own hand, of the garden, through which, by the aid of a master-key and a rope-ladder, he was to gain access to her presence. “My lady says, Monsieur Raoul,” added the merry girl, with a light laugh, “that she admits you only on the faith that you will keep the word which you plighted to her, when last you met, and on the condition that I shall be present at all your interviews with her.” “Her honor were safe in my hands,” replied the young man, “without that precaution. But I appreciate the motive, and accept the condition.” “You will remember, then, my lord--at midnight. There will be one light burning in the window, when that is extinguished, all will be safe, and you may enter fearless? Will you remember?” “Nothing but death will prevent me. Nor that, if the spirits of the dead may visit what they love best on earth. So tell her, Rose. Farewell!”