"I cannot very precisely' say what people do in France, mademoiselle, for I can hardly be called a Frenchman. I have resided in many countries, and almost always as a soldier; and then, I have spent a long period of my life in the country. I am almost a savage." "You do not like your residence in England, I fear." "I scarcely know," said Raoul, inattentively, and sighing deeply at the same time. "What! you do not know." "Forgive me," said Raoul, shaking his head, and collecting his thoughts, "I did not hear you." "Oh!" said the young girl, sighing in her turn, "how wrong the duke was to send me here!" "Wrong!" said Raoul, "perhaps so; for I am but a rude, uncouth companion, and my society annoys you. The duke was, indeed, very wrong to send you." "It is precisely," replied Mary Grafton, in a clear, calm voice, "because your society does not annoy me, that the duke was wrong to send me to you." It was now Raoul's turn to blush. "But," he resumed, "how happens it, that the Duke of Buckingham should send you to me: and why should you have come? the duke loves you, and you love him." "No," replied Mary, seriously, "the duke does not love me, because he is in love with the Duchesse d'Orleans; and, as for myself, I have no affection for the duke." Raoul looked at the young girl with astonishment. "Are you a friend of the Duke of Buckingham?" she inquired. "The duke has honored me by calling me so ever since we met in France." "You are simple acquaintances, then?" "No; for the duke is the most intimate friend of one whom I regard as a brother." "The Duc de Guiche?" "Yes." "He who is in love with Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans." "Oh! What is that you are saying?" "And who loves him in return," continued the young girl, quietly. Raoul bent down his head, and Mary Grafton, sighing deeply, continued, "They are very happy. But, leave me, Monsieur de Bragelonne, for the Duke of Buckingham has given you a very troublesome commission in offering me as a companion in your promenade. Your heart is elsewhere, and it is with the greatest difficulty you can be charitable enough to lend me your attention. Confess truly; it would be unfair on your part, vicomte, not to confess it." "Madame, I do confess it." She looked at him steadily. He was so noble and so handsome in his bearing, his eye revealed so much gentleness, candor, and resolution, that the idea could not possibly enter her mind that he was either rudely discourteous, or a mere simpleton. She only perceived, clearly enough, that he loved another woman, and not herself, with the whole strength of his heart. "Ah! I now understand you," she said; "you have left your heart behind you in France." Raoul bowed. "The duke is aware of your affection." "No one knows it," replied Raoul. "Why, therefore, do you tell me? Nay, answer me." "I cannot."