'The old bell of Burgundy,' added Clara, laughing.
'Dumb as—what, madame?'
'The old bell which Clotaire II. carried away from the church of Notre Dame de Soissons, that stood in a pleasant valley by the banks of the Aisne. The successors of Clovis had made Soissons the seat of the empire, and as this old bell had been rung there on a thousand joyful occasions, it resented to such a degree its removal to Paris that it became dumb, and all the bell-ringers in the city could not elicit a sound from it. "Diable!" said king Clotaire, "this bell shows very bad taste, indeed, not to like our city of Paris." So he sent it back to its old belfry; and the moment it found itself swinging securely in the ancient church of Notre Dame de Soissons it rung for seven hours, though untouched by mortal hand, and rung so loudly, too, as to be heard for seven miles down the valley of the Aisne.'
'A marvellous story—but scarcely suited to the days of Louis XIII.'
'Scarcely,' added the Countess; and as the last chesnut braid of her magnificent hair was finished, she smiled gaily, and said to her attendant, 'You, my dear Nicola, may leave us now.'
The young girl made a low reverence, and with one of her disdainful smiles lurking in her charming eyes and mouth withdrew.
'Who is that girl?' asked the Marquis, with considerable interest.
'My attendant,' replied the Countess briefly.
'So I perceive, madame; is she a Parisian?
'No—a provincial.'