Raoul made one step towards the girl who thus called him. “But my horse, madame?” said he. “Oh! you are terribly embarrassed! Go yonder way—there is a shed in the outer court: fasten your horse, and return quickly!” “I obey, madame.” Raoul was not four minutes in performing what he had been directed to do; he returned to the little door, where, in the gloom, he found his mysterious conductress waiting for him, on the first steps of a winding staircase. “Are you brave enough to follow me, monsieur knight errant?” asked the girl, laughing at the momentary hesitation Raoul had manifested. The latter replied by springing up the dark staircase after her. They thus climbed up three stories, he behind her, touching with his hands, when he felt for the banister, a silk dress which rubbed against each side of the staircase. At every false step made by Raoul, his conductress cried, “Hush!” and held out to him a soft perfumed hand. “One would mount thus to the belfry of the castle without being conscious of fatigue,” said Raoul. “All of which means, monsieur, that you are very much perplexed, very tired, and very uneasy. But be of good cheer, monsieur; here we are, at our destination.” The girl threw open a door, which immediately, without any transition, filled with a flood of light the landing of the staircase, at the top of which Raoul appeared, holding fast by the balustrade. The girl continued to walk on—he followed her; she entered a chamber—he did the same. As soon as he was fairly in the net he heard a loud cry, and, turning round, saw at two paces from him, with her hands clasped and her eyes closed, that beautiful fair girl with blue eyes and white shoulders, who, recognizing him, called him Raoul. He saw her, and divined at once so much love and so much joy in the expression of her countenance, the he sank on his knees in the middle of the chamber, murmuring, on his part, the name of Louise. “Ah! Montalais!—Montalais!” she sighed, “it is very wicked to deceive me so.” “Who, I? I have deceived you?” “Yes; you told me you would go down to inquire the news, and you have brought up monsieur!” “Well, I was obliged to do so—how else could he have received the letter you wrote him?” And she pointed with her finger to the letter which was still upon the table. Raoul made a step to take it; Louise, more rapid, although she had sprung forward with a sufficiently remarkable physical hesitation, reached out her hand to stop him. Raoul came in contact with that trembling hand, took it within his own, and carried it so respectfully to his lips, that he might have been said to have deposited a sigh upon it rather than a kiss. In the meantime, Mademoiselle de Montalais had taken the letter, folded it carefully, as women do, in three folds, and slipped it into her bosom.