“Fairest Diana,” began the hussar, half wondering if he were not dreaming.
The girl interrupted him with an expression of surprise.
“How? You know my name?”
“How could I mistake it?” said the hussar, with great adroitness. “The beauty of Diana is famous the world over, and I am the humblest of her worshipers.”
The girl looked at him in amazement. She could not see that the accomplished man of the world was but taking advantage of a lucky accident, to feel his way into her confidence, by a mingling of truth and falsehood in his manner.
“Then who are you that knows me so well?” she asked, artlessly. “I never thought human creature would come nigh our cottage, and you say it is famous.”
“For my name,” said the hussar, smiling, “you may call me Captain Schuyler, if you will. If you would like a shorter name and a pleasanter one, call me Adrian.”
“Adrian is a pretty name,” said the girl, smiling with the frank, fearless innocence that distinguished her every action. “Adrian and Diana are both beautiful.”
“Diana is beautiful,” said the hussar, meaningly; “how beautiful no one knows but me.”
Diana looked up at him inquiringly. Then something seemed to inform her of his meaning, for she flushed hotly and drew herself up with sudden haughtiness, asking: