The poor girl had swooned on receiving the news, and for two days was utterly overwhelmed by what she held to be the disgrace of his desertion. The Vicomte was singularly unfortunate in his attempt at consolation. "Marguerite, mon amie," he said one evening, before us all, "your brother should lose no claim to your esteem. Remember, the cause of the Prince Charles is lost beyond all redemption. Your brother is under the greatest of all obligations to his legal King; he owes him his life. If my humble opinion be of value, I conceive he has acted strictly within the laws which govern the conscience of a gentleman and a man of honour." "Gaston! How dare you? I am not a child; I am a woman loyal to my heart's core! I know nothing of your fine distinctions which constitute 'a gentleman and a man of honour,' But I do know the feeling which made men charge almost single-handed on the English line at Culloden. I know, too, the feeling which made the humblest Highland mother give up the child of her heart, and wish she had twenty more, to die for her King and her Prince. Better--far, far better that my brother had died unpardoned but loyal! He died for me the day his hand signed that traitorous compact. God pity me! I have neither father, mother, nor brother left. I have naught but you," she cried, as she buried her face on Lady Jane's shoulder, and shook with the storm of grief that swept over her. Lady Jane motioned us to leave, and we withdrew sorrowfully enough. It was weeks before the poor girl recovered her old liveliness; but she could not combat against the natural elasticity of youth, though the struggle left its trace in a sudden maturity quite unlooked for. Her relation towards the Vicomte became visibly colder; and he, simple soul, instead of being spurred to greater effort, went blundering on in his direct childlike way, with but small effect, though warmly reinforced by Lady Jane. All this time His Royal Highness Prince Charles was making no slight stir in Paris. He was in deep disgrace with the King, whom he treated with the most studied discourtesy. An unwelcome and dangerous intruder, he paid not the slightest attention to the repeated requests that he should leave the capital; he kept open house in his hotel on the Quai des Theatins, and appeared nightly at the Opera despite every consideration of good taste and breeding. And yet one-half Paris looked on and applauded, blaming the King for his inhospitality to this hero of a hundred flights. I did my own prospects of advancement no small harm by allowing myself to accompany Margaret and Lady Jane to one of his levees, where he bestowed much fulsome flattery on me, though he took good care it should reflect on himself, for he never could pass over an occasion to shine before a woman--one of the weakest vanities that ever inflated the soul of man. The Vicomte was much chagrined over our going, and inclined to lay the blame upon me.