nge events would happen before we next wandered together in the
park at Aunay.

It was not a cheerful evening, though madame laughed and said many
smart things, in her brilliant way, to raise our spirits. At length
she rose to retire to her own room.

"I will not say 'good-bye,'" she exclaimed saucily, "as we are certain
to meet again. If you act on my advice it will be in the palace of
Conde. The prince loves a lad of mettle."

"Albert must consult his own honour," said Marie.

"And ruin his prospects for an empty whim! Don't listen to her,
Albert, and above all things, don't let Mazarin drag you down. Keep
constantly in your mind that he has had his day, and will never return
to power. Last of all, remember you are always welcome in the Rue
Crillon, whether fortune treat you well or ill."

When they had gone I sent for Pillot, who was still in the house. Food
and rest had performed wonders for the little man, who looked as jaunty
and self-possessed as ever.

"Has your horse recovered?" I asked.

"Perfectly, monsieur."

"I am starting for the capital at day-break. If you care to ride with
me, I shall be glad of your company."

"Monsieur honours me!" said he, making a bow.

"Then tell the servants to prepare you an early breakfast, and join me
in the courtyard at seven."

"I shall be there, monsieur," and the rascal tripped off smiling, while
I, taking a candle, went to bed, hoping to obtain a good night's rest.

It was a glorious morning when we left Aunay, and Etienne, an old
retainer on the estate, came to the gate to wish us God-speed.

"Give my respects to your mistress and to Mademoiselle de Brione," I
said as we rode away.

The air was fresh and cool; dew-drops gemmed the earth's green carpet,
and hung like pendants of brilliants from the leaves of the trees;
hundreds of songsters poured forth delicious hymns of praise to the
opening day; the rising sun tinted the distant peaks with purple and
gold; the whole earth seemed like fairy-land.

Shaking his handsome mane, my horse, of his own accord, broke into a
canter, while I, almost involuntarily, trolled forth a well-known
hunting song.

Pillot, who rode at my side, was a merry companion, full of quips, and
jests, and odd conceits, which lightened the tedium of the journey.
The fellow was undoubtedly a rogue of the first water, but he possessed
many amiable traits, and had a fine sense of humour.

Not being in a particular hurry, and