I was proceeding to repeat what I had said to his father the day before, when he interrupted me with a smile, saying, "You need not give me reasons why, De Cerons; though I look so young, I am old enough to have felt; and though I am older than you think me, I am not too old to have forgotten such feelings as I saw upon a certain parting between a lady and her lover. Your secret was well kept both by my father and myself, and your sour cousin of Blancford heard nothing of it from us. But with regard to setting you free I have nothing to do; and I feel very sure that one of my father's reasons for sending you to Champigny is that you may be near your fair lady, and not, by a lengthened imprisonment, lose the opportunity of advancing yourself in the favour either of herself or her father." "Good God!" I exclaimed, "I had not the slightest idea that the baron had gone to Saumur." "Oh! you mistake, you mistake," said the prince. "My father did not speak of sending you to Champigné-le-sec, which, as its name implies, would be a dry residence for you enough, but to Champigny near Paris, where we have estates, and an old chateau of which we are all fond. But still I must say it is not in my power to affect at all my father's determination about your imprisonment. Indeed, I must confess, I think it best for you that it should be as it is; and, at all events, I have no authority in the matter. What I alluded to was something quite different. The day before yesterday, as we were riding down towards Cognac, my father and I were talking of you, and we determined, in memory of the day when you and I first met, to make you a present of a little farm that we lately bought, for the purpose of giving it to an old friend of ours, but who was unfortunately killed in the first skirmish of this campaign. It lies close to our own place at Champigny, and is called by his own name, which was the cause of our buying it for him. That name is Les Bois. It remains just as we had it all arranged to give him. The old chateau, though but small, is, I think you will admit, as sweet a spot as well could be chosen to repose in after the toils of war. We have had it tapestried and furnished afresh throughout in the very last mode; and the annual rent amounts to about five thousand livres per annum. "Oh, my lord, my lord, mention not such a thing to me," I cried. "Although your rank and mine might well permit me to accept your bounty, yet such a gift as that I am utterly undeserving of."