"I saw you last with the cardinal, at the Hôtel de Bourgogne," said the lady, with that sort of timid, trembling accents which are so attractive on young and beautiful lips,—small drops of honey to young ears and hearts.
"Last?" said Edward. "Had I ever the pleasure of seeing you before that night?"
"I did not mean to say that," answered the lady. "But you imply that you did see me then."
"I saw two or three very beautiful persons," said Edward, "but have no means of knowing which of those you are."
"No, nor shall you have any," she replied, bowing her head gracefully, "neither to-day, nor to-morrow, nor the next day; but if you are very good, and behave yourself very well, I may take off my loup some time between this and Michaelmas. But now tell me: where are you riding so fast?—to get yourself killed at Suza?"
"No," answered Edward: "such is certainly not my object; but I am going toward Venice, and wish to reach that city as soon as my horse can carry me."
"Oh, that is a long way off," said the lady. "I think I must keep you near me. You shall be my cavalier along the road. I will find out some crime you have committed, and put you to all sorts of penances."
"But what if I have committed no crime?" asked the young gentleman.
"Oh, but you have," she said. "You should have known me the moment you saw me. No mask should be sufficient to hide a lady from a gallant and courteous cavalier. You ought to be able to see my face through my loup, as if it were made of glass."
Edward smiled, but made no reply; but he thought within himself, "Lucette would not have spoken so to a mere stranger. What a difference there is between her pure, sweet simplicity and the free manners of these courtly ladies!"