Ashamed of my foolish boast, and embarrassed by the attention it had aroused, I bowed awkwardly without speaking. Our rubber was played in gloomy silence. It was ten o’clock, and I was preparing to slip off, when Mlle. de Porhoët touched my arm. "Sir," she said, "will you be so kind as to accompany me to the end of the avenue?" I bowed again and followed her into the park. The little servant in Breton costume went first, carrying a lantern; then came Mlle. de Porhoët, stiff and silent, carefully holding up her worn silk frock; she had coldly declined the offer of my arm, and I walked humbly at her side, feeling very much dissatisfied with myself. After a few minutes of this funeral march the old lady spoke. "Well, sir?" she said. "You may speak; I am waiting. You have asserted that your family is allied to mine, and as an alliance of this kind is a piece of history entirely new to me, I shall be greatly obliged if you will enlighten me on the subject." I had decided that I must at all costs keep the secret of my incognito. "I venture to hope, mademoiselle, that you won’t take a mere joke quite seriously." "A joke!" exclaimed Mlle. de Porhoët. "A nice subject to joke upon! And, sir, what do you people of to-day call the jokes that can be boldly addressed to an old and defenceless woman, but which you would not dare to utter in the presence of a man?" "Mademoiselle, you leave me no choice; I must trust to your discretion. I do not know whether the name of Champcey d’Hauterive is familiar to you?" "I know the Champcey d’Hauterives perfectly well, sir. They are a good, an excellent Dauphin family. What inference am I to make from your question?" "I am the present representative of that family." "You!" exclaimed Mlle. de Porhoët, coming to a sudden halt. "You are a Champcey d’Hauterive?" "Yes, the male representative, mademoiselle." "That alters the question," she said. "Give me your arm, cousin, and tell me your history." I thought that in the circumstances it would be better not to conceal anything from her. As I finished the painful story of my family troubles, we found ourselves opposite a small house, remarkably low and narrow. On one side stood a kind of low pigeon-house with a pointed roof. "Enter, marquis," said the daughter of the kings of Gaël at the threshold of her lowly palace. "I beg that you will enter." The next moment I stepped into a little _salon_ meanly paved with brick; on the faded tapestry of the walls hung portraits of ancestors gorgeous in ducal ermine. Over the mantel-piece sparkled a magnificent clock in tortoise-shell and brass, surmounted by a group representing the chariot of the sun. Some oval-backed arm-chairs and an old spindle-legged couch completed the furniture of the room. Everything shone with cleanliness, and the air was filled with mingled odours of iris, Spanish snuff, and aromatic essences.