On the fourth day Marie Louise came to the bartizan with her attendant; and on perceiving that I studiously avoided her, she promenaded there daily, and consequently I daily witnessed the little boy-husband toying with her, and hanging about 'his duchess,' for whom he evinced all the love of a child for a mother or for an elder sister; for Marie Louise was an incarnation of all gentleness and sweetness. Moreover she was kind and even affectionate to the boy, affecting to take an interest in his prattle, and in the playthings he hastened from time to time to show her; and more than once, when surprising them engaged in a game of romps, or playing with shuttlecock and battledore on the terrace, I have seen how Marie Louise grew deadly pale, and withdrew with a bow of sorrow and confusion.

Then I would reflect, that in ten years more this child would be a youth of twenty, perhaps strong, brave, and impassioned; and that Louise would still be young and beautiful.

My position became insupportable! I could not desert my command, nor retire from it until regularly relieved from head-quarters; but in a transport of bitterness I wrote to the Marquis of Gordon and to the Duke de Lavalette, praying them to appoint another captain of Lutzelstein, and allow me to rejoin my comrades in the field. Daily I looked for a reply; but weeks passed on, the brown autumnal woods were becoming bare and stripped; but no horseman came from the Rhine—no letter from the trenches before Seltz.

Marie Louise—the ignes fatus, the hope of happier days, the star that had shone before me so long, the sole object of my thoughts—was living under my care, under the same roof with me; but separated from her by the peculiarity of our relative positions, we might as well have had the wall of China between us.

One day I came somewhat abruptly upon her. She was seated thoughtfully on an angle of the terrace or rampart which surrounded the tower. Her white cheek rested on her whiter hand, and her eyes were fixed vacantly upon the foot of the valley which was traversed by the road that led towards Zaberne, and through which meandered a tributary of the Ell, and from its banks a haze was rising in the sunshine through the leafless woods. Her expression was mournful, yet from her eyes there fell no tears. Perhaps she felt the humiliation of being a captive in her own duchy of Alsace. She was dressed in a robe of light-blue Amboisienne, having sleeves trimmed with the richest white Mechlin lace—a dress that admirably became her pale complexion and bright golden hair, which was shaded by a beaver, and single ostrich feather white as snow. The little Duke was seated near her, absorbed in fitting and preparing for sea a toy-ship which one of Ruthven's soldiers had made for him—a fatal gift as it afterwards proved; and, impelled by an irresistible desire to hear her speak, and once more meet her winning eye in kindness, I drew near. She bowed to me; and then I became deeply moved when perceiving that large tears began to roll in slow succession down her face.

'Madame,' said I, 'pardon me; but the sight of this silent grief fills me with compassion. Is there aught in which I can serve you?'

'Nothing; yet I thank you, M. Blane,' was the gentle reply. 'M. le Duc,' she added, to the little boy, who, on my approach, had crept close to her side with childish curiosity, 'leave me, I have somewhat of importance to say to this gentleman—to M. le Chatelain, whom you know.'

'Then will M. le Chatelain allow me to sail my new ship in the lake, and send a soldier to take care of me?'

'Certainly, if you wish it.'

'Oh! thank you, M. le Chatelain.'