"In a strong will," answered Jean Charost.
The duke mused for a moment or two, and then suddenly changed the conversation, saying, "Who was the girl you were speaking with?"
"In truth, your highness, I do not know," replied Jean Charost. "She said that she was going, under the escort of Monsieur and Madame De Giac, to Beaugency."
"Oh, then, I know," replied the duke. "It is the fair Agnes, whom my good aunt talked about. They say she has a wit quite beyond her years. Did you find it so?"
"I can not tell," replied Jean Charost, "for I do not know her age. She seemed to me quite a girl; and yet spoke like one who thought much and deeply."
"You were well matched," said the duke, gayly; and, at the same moment, some of his attendants came up, and the conversation stopped for the time.
CHAPTER XIII.
The cool twilight of a fine winter's evening filled the air as the train of the Duke of Orleans approached his château of Beauté. Standing on a high bank, with the river flowing in sight, and catching the last rosy rays, which still lingered in the sky after the sun was set, the house presented a grand, rather than a graceful appearance, though it was from the combination of beautiful forms and rich decoration with the defensive strength absolutely requisite in all country mansions at that day, that it derived its name of Beauté. The litter had been repaired at Juvisy, and the Duke of Orleans had taken possession of it again; but as the cavalcade wound up the ascent toward the castle, the prince put his head out, and ordered one of the nearest attendants to call Lomelini to him.
"I am ill, Lomelini," he said, as soon as the maître d'hôtel rode up; "I am ill. Go forward and see that my bed-chamber is prepared."
"Had I not better send back for your highness's chirurgeon?" asked Lomelini. "'Tis a pity he was left behind in Paris."