Isidore had scarcely quitted the terrace before he was accosted by Clotilde’s maid, who begged him to come to her young mistress without delay, and he soon reached his fair cousin’s boudoir. He found her trying to cheer up poor Marguerite, but not very successfully, it must be owned, for Clotilde’s spirits were always of the highest, and her thoughtless raillery increased rather than allayed her friend’s distress.

“Mercy on us!” she exclaimed as Isidore made his appearance. “If any one ever deserved the name of ‘the knight of the rueful countenance’ it is certainly my doughty cousin. Well, if men put on that dismal face when their lady-loves accept them, I shall certainly always say ‘no’ for their sakes, if not for my own.”

“Nay, but, my dear, sweet cousin,” said Isidore, “I entreat you to be serious for half an hour, or even for a few minutes, if you can. Has not Marguerite told you?”

“She has told me that you have fallen in love with her, and I suppose that mamma does not like it. I have not got further than that as yet, and I do not think that is anything so very, very awful.”

“Not if that were really all, my dear cousin; but the baroness, it seems, had taken it into her head that I was in love with you. It is too absurd. Can you imagine anything so ridiculous?”

“I am infinitely obliged to you for your politeness, Monsieur de Beaujardin, in supposing it to be so very ridiculous that any one should fall in love with me. Why, there is my devoted cousin, the Duke de St. Menehould, who would make me his duchess any day, if I had but a million of livres for my dowry, to say nothing of the Sieur de Crillon, who declares he is dying for me, and would have married mo long ago, if mamma had not made up her mind that I should have my most uncivil cousin de Beaujardin. Dear me, only think, though, how dreadful it would have been if mamma had fancied I was in love with you!”

“Do, pray, be serious,” replied Isidore. “Can you not see, Clotilde, that your mother is not one to be thwarted with impunity in any scheme she has formed. This affair may, if I cannot conciliate my father, prove fatal to my whole life’s happiness, and, what is infinitely worse, to dear Marguerite’s also.”

“Isidore! Isidore!” exclaimed the latter, passionately, “do not think of me; I am only distressed and unhappy for your sake. If I can only save you from harm, I will do anything. O Isidore! I will give up everything, even your dear self, though I shall never cease to love you.”

There was a pause as Isidore put his arm around her, as if to reassure her of his steadfastness, and gently kissed her forehead. Even Clotilde was subdued.

“I am afraid that you are right, and that it is a serious business after all,” said she. “Mamma is ever either a good friend or a bitter enemy; but all must depend on my uncle, so do not lose a moment, my good cousin, but be off to Beaujardin at once. In the meanwhile I will do what I can to soothe mamma and comfort Marguerite. Yes, sir, although it is so very absurd to think of any one falling in love with me, I won’t bear malice, but behave like a generous heroine to my odious rival here. There, off with you, and let us hear all about it as soon as you can.”

The advice was obviously too sensible to be disregarded, and Isidore at once proceeded to summon his valet, Monsieur Jasmin, for the purpose of ordering the horses and packing up for the journey. In the corridor he came upon the very person he sought, and, perhaps somewhat curtly, gave him the needful directions.

News travels apace in such households, where there is often enough some scheming underling, who makes it his business to know everything about everybody. Monsieur Jasmin had long since satisfied himself that Mademoiselle Marguerite, and not Mademoiselle Clotilde, had won his young master’s heart; he knew, moreover, that the baroness had set her heart on a union between the two families, and the rumour that there had been a scene between madame and the young marquis, and that Marguerite had fled to Clotildes boudoir in tears, did not surprise him much. Nevertheless he affected to be astonished at so abrupt a departure, and, overdoing his part a little, as the most clever people sometimes do, he exclaimed

“But, monsieur, it is impossible! Surely monsieur does not think of such a thing?”

Isidore had had to suppress much bitterness and vexation during his interview with the ladies; but little was needed to bring out his irritation pretty strongly, and Jasmin’s opposition did it most effectually.

“Do as I bid you, insolence!” cried Isidore, turning angrily upon him, “and lose no time about it, unless you want me to chastise you for a meddling, impertinent cur.” So saying he passed on, whilst the valet remained standing in the middle of the corridor chafing under this unexpected rebuff.

The very pink of courteous servility, aping to the utmost pitch the prevalent extravagance of courtesy, Monsieur Jasmin had ever been too adroit to bring on himself such a humiliation, and in the few months during which he had been in Isidore’s service he had never even suspected his master to be capable of such rudeness even to a menial. He had not yet recovered from the shock when Madame de Valricour came sweeping along the corridor. He stepped back to allow her to pass, but instead of doing so, she stopped, and after looking steadily at him for a few moments, as if she were making up her mind about some contemplated step, she hastily desired him to attend her in the saloon. Jasmin bowed, and followed her.

When left to herself by Isidore, a few minutes’ reflection had enabled the baroness to realise the exact position of affairs, and she had at once set about considering what course she would have to take if she would prevent her cherished scheme from being utterly overthrown. She knew Isidore’s father well, and believed it quite possible that his affection for his son might outweigh any considerations founded on the mere absence of rank and fortune on the part of Marguerite, especially if he were once convinced that Isidore had plighted his word in the honest belief that he was acting in accordance with his father’s wishes. Yes, that was the point she had to look to. She knew her own influence over the marquis, but it must be brought to bear strongly and without delay, and Isidore must, if possible, be prevented from forestalling her. All this was being weighed whilst her nephew was debating the matter with Clotilde and Marguerite. Having formed her resolution, the baroness had rung the bell, and ordered her coach to be got ready, saying that she desired to take an airing; she then hastened to equip herself for a journey. Coming upon Monsieur Jasmin, however, in the corridor a fresh thought struck her.

On reaching the saloon the lady paused awhile, and then addressed the valet thus

“I have heard highly creditable accounts of the zeal and ability with which you discharge your duties, Monsieur Jasmin, and of your fidelity to your master.”

The valet knew that this was not true; besides, even the overstrained euphuism of the day would not lead the proud Baroness de Valricour to speak thus to a mere valet unless, indeed, she had some covert end in view. What did she want? That was the question.

Jasmin bowed, and answered with some common-place remark, expressing his obligations to madame for her good opinion.

“Monsieur de Beaujardin gives handsome wages, no doubt,” was her next remark, “and you would not care to leave his service, I suppose?”

Jasmin certainly had no desire to exchange the liberal ménage of Beaujardin for the scarcely disguised poverty of Valricour, but it was second nature with him to cringe and flatter: “I could not desire to quit so noble a family, except, indeed, for the service of so exalted and gracious a personage as the Baroness de Valricour.”

“That is precisely what I wish, Monsieur Jasmin,” was the prompt rejoinder. “To be brief, I believe Monsieur de Beaujardin allows you fifty louis a year. For special reasons I desire to engage you in my service, and I will give you double that amount.”

However tempting the offer might seem, Jasmin happened to know that those who had the honour of serving Madame de Valricour were not unfrequently put to straits, from the difficulty of getting their wages paid at all, and at any other moment he would probably have declared that no amount could induce him to leave so noble a master as the young marquis; but he thought he saw clouds gathering over Isidore’s head, and the little incident in the corridor was rankling in him.

“But, madame,” said he, “what will be said abroad if I

“For the present, at least,” replied the baroness, “I do not desire that it shall be known. You can still be valet to my nephew, and receive your wages from him too. Has Monsieur Jasmin never heard of such little arrangements in families where untoward circumstances have occurred to mar a good understanding?”

“Madame,” said Jasmin, bowing, “I accept your offer. It is not for me to say more than that my doing so puts me under the necessity of carrying out, without question or scruple, any directions you may give me.”

“Good,” rejoined the baroness. “Monsieur de Beaujardin has offended, and even insulted me. I am going to the Chateau de Beaujardin, and I wish to reach it before he does.”

Jasmin bowed again: “If monsieur’s horse should unfortunately go lame,” said he, suggestively, “I am afraid there will be nothing left in the stables for him to ride, if your ladyship takes the four horses.”

“It is for you to see to that,” replied the lady, sharply, for she did not relish the half sneer at the state of the Valricours’ stables, nor the idea of Monsieur Jasmin’s presuming upon his new position and becoming familiar. “For the rest,” she added, “you will understand that I desire to be kept exactly informed of Monsieur de Beaujardin’s movements and also those of

“Of Mademoiselle Lacroix,” said Jasmin, filling up the pause.

“Yes; that is enough. Stay, here are twenty crowns on account of your wages.”

With these words Madame de Valricour opened her escritoire and handed the money to Jasmin, who once more bowed low and retired. He had scarcely gone half the length of the corridor, however, before he was recalled by his new mistress. “There is one thing more,” said she, as they re-entered the saloon; “it is a matter of much delicacy, but if I thought I could entirely rely on

Here the baroness stopped and seemed to hesitate. Jasmin, who under a show of servile obsequiousness noted every look, word, and gesture with unremitting keenness, thought that he detected in the lady’s embarrassment an apprehension that she might compromise or commit herself too seriously by some communication she desired to make to him, and he hastened to remove her fears.

“Madame has the best security for my executing any task she may impose on me without any scruples on my part, as I have placed it in her power to deprive me at her pleasure of my engagement with Monsieur Isidore, as well as of that with which she has honoured me.”

Perhaps Madame de Valricour had her own ideas as to who would lose most by an exposure of her schemes, nevertheless Monsieur Jasmin’s little speech had its effect.

“In short, then,” said she, “my nephew received yesterday a letter from the marquis, his father, concerning a family matter of interest to me. Monsieur Isidore has deeply offended me, and I do not choose to ask him to let me see the letter, but it is important that I should do so in fact I wish to have this letter in my possession.”

“The letter shall be in madame’s hands before she leaves the chateau,” replied the valet; and so ended this little supplementary conversation.

Monsieur Jasmin, who had hitherto considered Isidore’s service rather a tame and monotonous one, had at last found occupation congenial to his taste, and he performed his task with the greatest readiness and ability. It was not until after the young marquis had twice ordered the horses to be brought round, and had been worked up into a state of impatience which would brook no further delay, that he was informed that his horse had gone dead lame. Determined not to be baffled in his purpose, and half suspecting that some trick was being put upon him though his suspicion fell on the groom instead of the real delinquent he expressed his intention of riding Jasmin’s horse, and leaving that personage to follow on foot as he best could. This resolve might have answered had he acted upon it at once; but just as he was putting his foot in the stirrup the valet informed him that Mademoiselle Lacroix had a packet which she desired to send to the marquise. Should he go and ask her for it? The temptation to say a few more last words was too great. Isidore hastily re-entered the chateau, but only to hear from Marguerite that there must have been some mistake, as she had no commands at Beaujardin. In a towering rage Isidore once more descended the staircase, and on reaching the courtyard he would probably have carried out there and then his former threat of chastisement; but Monsieur Jasmin had taken good care to be absent, and his incensed master, anxious to lose no more time, was soon galloping away in the direction of Beaujardin.

He did not gallop far, however, for the horse he rode soon showed signs that something was amiss with him. Still Isidore urged him on, and the animal, which was of a noble breed, seemed to gather himself together, and for a time appeared to have recovered his powers, but it was of no use; they had gone just half-way when the creature suddenly broke down and could go no further. As he disengaged himself, Isidore muttered something not very complimentary to Monsieur Jasmin, for he began to suspect that the valet had something to do with his mishap. There was nothing for it, however, but to proceed on foot and endeavour to obtain another horse, if possible, at a farmhouse some distance further on. This he at last accomplished, but what with one delay and another it proved of no avail. When he reached the chateau, he learned that Madame de Valricour had arrived there nearly half an hour before him, and as he ascended the great staircase he met her coming down. She curtsied to him in the most polite manner, but there was an expression of triumph in her face which warned him to prepare for the worst.