“What a lovely morning it is!” thought Jaqueline. “How pure and delicious the water of this spring looks! As to what the old lady says about its wonderful qualities, I can’t believe that; but, however, I will taste it. There! oh, how cool and refreshing!”
Suddenly there was heard the sound of a horn at a short distance, and a moment after a hunting party came galloping toward the fountain. Jaqueline would have hid herself, but it was too late; and ere she had decided in what direction to make her escape, a young, handsome, elegantly dressed cavalier, who led the party, threw himself from his horse, and, respectfully approaching her, begged that she would not be alarmed.
“Thank ye!” said Jaqueline; “no, I an’t frightened; only I stopped just to see which way you was a-galloping, because I don’t want to be run over.”
“Charming creature!” exclaimed the cavalier, “do you suppose it possible that any human being would hurt a hair of your head?”
“I don’t know about that,” replied Jaqueline. “All as I can say is, that I don’t know any reason why they should; for I never did no harm to nobody as I know of.”
“Never, I am sure,” said the young man. “No; innocence and benevolence are too plainly expressed in every feature of that lovely countenance. May I crave to know by what happy chance you have been led to this sequestered spot?”
“I can’t see exactly as that’s any business of yours,” replied Jaqueline; “howsomever, if you must know, I’m going to the Cock and Bottle in the high-road, where I hope to find a patache to take me to Moulins; so, as the good old dame is asleep, and I don’t like to wake her, if you or some of your people will direct me, I shall feel obliged to you: but I’ll thank you not to give me no more of your fine speeches, that’s all.”
“A miracle! She despises flattery!” exclaimed the enraptured youth, clasping his hands together; and then, without farther ceremony, he threw himself upon his knees, made a regular fervent offer of himself and fortune, declared himself to be the Comte Henri de Montjeu, and, seizing the hard hand of his inamorata, pressed it to his lips.
“Drat the man! He’s mad!” cried Jaqueline, attempting to extricate her hand; but, the moment after, finding that he did not bite it, she allowed it to remain where it was, and, heaving a sigh of compassion, said to herself, “What a pity! He is so very handsome!”