"Monseigneur," said Aurilly, mixing in the conversation, "I have discovered a part of the secret. This relation whom M. du Bouchage wished to escort is—a lady."
"Ah! ah! why did they not tell me so frankly. That dear Henri—it is quite natural. Let us shut our eyes to the relation, and speak of her no more."
"You had better not, monseigneur, for there seems a great mystery."
"How so?"
"Yes, the lady, like the celebrated Bradamante, about whom I have so often sung to your highness, disguises herself in the dress of a man."
"Oh! monseigneur," cried the ensign, "M. du Bouchage seems to me to have a great respect for this lady, and probably would be very angry at any indiscretion.'"
"Doubtless, monsieur; we will be mute as sepulchers—as mute as poor St. Aignan; only, if we see the lady, we will try not to make grimaces at her. Where is this lady, Aurilly?"—"Upstairs."
"Upstairs! what, in this house?"
"Yes, monseigneur; but hush! here is M. du Bouchage."
"Hush!" said the prince, laughing.