Antoine brought me the dress of an abbé—the usual costume of a gentleman when travelling at that time; and under the cassock I placed my belt, with a pair of loaded pistols and a good dagger; while a pair of petronels were to be slung at my saddle-bow.

'Mademoiselle Nicola,' said Antoine, introducing the Countess's attendant, whom in her new costume I had some difficulty in recognising. She wore a dark religious dress, with a little hood and wimple, a long veil, and a large cross. The demureness of her appearance contrasted forcibly with the youth and exceeding beauty of her face, and the luxuriance of her bright golden hair. Her complexion was pure; her lips a divine coral hue, and her features were cast in the purest mould of form. Her loose sleeves revealed the whiteness of her arms, and gave her hands a smallness almost infantine as she approached, and with great frankness held both out to me, while her upward glance was timid and earnest, but confiding.

'Welcome, Nicola,' said I, closing the last button of my long and sombre cassock; 'it seems, my dear little daughter, that we are about to set out on our travels together, as a nun and an abbé.'

'Yes, monsieur,' said she, with a slight blush, as her long brown eyelashes drooped; 'and I trust we shall conduct ourselves with due religious gravity and—propriety.'

'Do not doubt it. I am an abbé of some place unknown; but you, I presume, have some order to claim?'

'Oh yes, M. Blane. This is the dress of the Hôpital des Soeurs de la Charité, for the relief of the sick and poor, founded by Father Vincent de Paule, a priest whose life has been one succession of good deeds, for he has everywhere founded hospitals for the sick, the aged, and the poor; and King Louis, by letters patent, has just instituted his new priory of the Lazarites. Father Vincent has collected, among the pious of Paris, one hundred and sixty thousand livres, and sent them into Alsace and Lorraine, to lessen the misery of those peasantry who are afflicted by the war, and the presence of—'

'Such fellows as I, mademoiselle.'

'Everywhere he is worshipped as a saint, though not yet canonised, and my dress of his order will protect me, if the circumstance of my being his favourite god-daughter will not.'

'But, my dear little Nicola, your beautiful voice will be quite spoiled by the hideous accent of Alsace, where they say Sdrazpurg for Strasbourg, and so on.'

'M. Blane,' said she, looking me full in the face, while her clear bright eyes filled with emotion, 'if you propose to continue this spirit of gallantry or banter during our journey, I shall leave you at the first gate of Paris, and pursue my way alone.'