Proserpine allowed me to disentangle the reins, and even to touch her neck without giving the slightest sign of irritation; but as soon as she felt my foot in the stirrup she shied at once, and sent a volley of kicks above the marble vases on the staircase; then sat comfortably down on her hindquarters and beat the air with her forefeet. After this she rested, quivering all over. "A bit fidgety to mount," said the groom, with a wink. "So I see, my good fellow, but I shall astonish her. See," and at the same time I sprang into the saddle without touching the stirrup and got my seat before Proserpine had quite realized what had happened. The instant after we shot at a hard gallop into the chestnut avenue, followed by some clapping of hands, which M. de Bévallan had the grace to start. That evening I could see, from the way people treated me, that this incident, trifling as it was, had raised me in the public opinion. Some other talents of the same sort, which I owed to my education, helped me to secure the only kind of consideration I wished for—one which respected my personal dignity. Besides, I made it quite evident that I should not abuse the kindness and consideration shown me, by usurping a position incompatible with my humble duties at the château. I shut myself up in my tower as much as I could without being boorish; in a word, I kept strictly in my place, so that none should be tempted to remind me of it. A few days after my arrival, during one of the large dinners which at that season were of nearly daily occurrence, I heard the _sous-préfet_ of the neighbouring little town, who was sitting next to the lady of the house, ask her who I was. Mme. Laroque, who is rather forgetful, did not remember that I was quite close, and, _nolens volens_, I heard every word of her reply. "Please, don’t ask me," she said. "There’s some extraordinary mystery about him. We think he must be a prince in disguise.... There are so many who like to see the world in this fashion. This one has every conceivable talent: he rides, plays the piano, draws, and does each to perfection! ... Between ourselves, my dear _sous-préfet_, I believe he is a very bad steward, but there’s no doubt he is a very agreeable man." The _sous-préfet_—who also is a very agreeable man, or thinks he is, which is just as satisfactory to himself—stroked his fine whiskers with his plump hand and said sweetly that there were enough beautiful eyes in the château to explain many mysteries; that he quite understood the steward’s object, and that Love was the legitimate father of Folly, and the proper steward of the Graces.... Then, changing his tone abruptly, he added: "However, madame, if you have the slightest anxiety about this person, I will have him interrogated to-morrow by the head constable."