“I will finish, Montalais,” and she continued as follows: “You often think of me, you say, Monsieur Raoul: I thank you; but that does not surprise me, when I recollect how often our hearts have beaten close to each other.”
“Oh! oh!” said Montalais. “Beware; my lamb! You are scattering your wool, and there are wolves about.”
Louise was about to reply, when the gallop of a horse resounded under the porch of the castle.
“What is that?” said Montalais, approaching the window. “A handsome cavalier, by my faith!”
“Oh!—Raoul!” exclaimed Louise, who had made the same movement as her friend, and, becoming pale as death, sunk back beside her unfinished letter.
“Now, he is a clever lover, upon my word!” cried Montalais; “he arrives just at the proper moment.”
“Come in, come in, I implore you!” murmured Louise.
“Bah! he does not know me. Let me see what he has come here for.”
CHAPTER 2.
The Messenger.
Mademoiselle de Montalais was right; the young cavalier was goodly to look upon.