ing
the air, pecking the flowers, picking up the grain, without having the
least service to perform, or the least annoyance to undergo. And you
talk to me of duties to be performed! In sooth, my pretty idler, what
are your own proper duties, unless to write to the handsome Raoul? And
even that you don't do; so that it looks to me as if you likewise were
rather negligent of your duties!"

Louise assumed a serious air, leant her chin upon her hand, and, in a
tone full of candid remonstrance, "And do you reproach me with my good
fortune?" said she. "Can you have the heart to do it? You have a future;
you belong to the court; the king, if he should marry, will require
Monsieur to be near his person; you will see splendid fetes; you will
see the king, who they say is so handsome, so agreeable!"

"Ay, and still more, I shall see Raoul, who attends upon M. le Prince,"
added Montalais, maliciously.

"Poor Raoul!" sighed Louise.

"Now is the time to write to him, my pretty dear! Come, begin again,
with that famous 'Monsieur Raoul' which figures at the top of the poor
torn sheet."

She then held the pen toward her, and with a charming smile encouraged
her hand, which quickly traced the words she named.

"What next?" asked the younger of the two girls.

"Why, now write what you think, Louise," replied Montalais.

"Are you quite sure I think of anything?"

"You think of somebody, and that amounts to the same thing, or rather
even more."

"Do you think so, Montalais?"

"Louise, Louise, your blue eyes are as deep as the sea I saw at Boulogne
last year! No, no, I mistake--the sea is perfidious: your eyes are as
deep as the azure yonder--look!--over our heads!"

"Well, since you can read so well in my eyes, tell me what I am thinking
about, Montalais."

"In the first place, you don't think Monsieur Raoul; you think My dear
Raoul."

"Oh!----"

"Never blush for such a trifle as that! 'My dear Raoul,' we will
say--'You implore me to write to you at Paris, where you are detained by
your attendance on M. le Prince. As you must be very dull there, to seek
for amusement in the remembrance of a provinciale----'"

Louise rose up suddenly. "No, Montalais," said she, with a smile; "I
don't think a word of that. Look, this is what I think;" and she seized
the pen boldly and traced, with a firm hand, the following words:--

"I should have been very unhappy if your entreaties to obtain a
remembrance of me had been less warm. E