The cardinal moved on as he spoke; and Edward was fain to pursue his way to Bourillaut. He found some servants on the drawbridge, loitering about in the fine summer sunset; but as soon as his name was given the omnipotent commands of the cardinal made them all activity and attention. His horse was taken to the stable by one man; another ushered him into a handsome room, communicating with a bedroom beyond; and a third ran to bring the supper which he said his Eminence had ordered for him. All around had a very comfortable aspect; and Edward thought, as he threw himself into a chair, "A man with a wife whom he loved, and some little ones to cheer him, might pass his life very happily even here."
The supper was soon brought, and was evidently the handiwork of some courtly cook; the wine was delicate and good; and Edward, according to the English fashion of all times, chose to take the moderate portion he did take after his meal. Telling the man who waited on him to leave him, he was about to pass the evening quietly, when, soon after the servant had quitted the room, the door was opened and some one looked in. One glance at the figure showed Edward that it was the lady with whom he had ridden some way from Montargis; and, to say the truth, the young Englishman would willingly have been spared her company. She still wore the black velvet loup over her face, which Edward thought was somewhat too coquettish, considering that it was now dark and the candles lighted; but of course he found himself bound to be polite, though he was determined to be as cold as ice. Yet there was something timid and hesitating in her manner that surprised him. As she came forward he could see that she trembled, and, rising, he placed a chair for her, saying, "To what am I indebted for this honor?"
"I have come to pass the evening with you," she said, in a low voice: "I cannot let you be here all alone."
Edward did not well know what to reply, and he answered at random:—"Let me beseech you, at all events, madam, to lay aside your mask now. Your complexion runs no risk here."
"No," said the lady, shaking her head; "not till you tell me you love me and will marry me."
"Are you not married already?" exclaimed Edward.
"Yes," she answered, "I am; but that makes no difference. Do you love me?"
"I have told you, dear lady," said Edward, in as calm a tone as he could assume, "that it is impossible. If you are the lady whom I saw at the Hôtel de Bourgogne, doubtless I could have loved you if my whole heart and soul had not been given to another; for I have seldom seen anybody more lovely."
"But who is this you love so well?" said the lady. "Give me her name,—her full name."
"Lucette Marie de Mirepoix du Valais," said Edward, impatiently.