, and then offering his arm
led her on in advance of the lumbering chariot. They had walked some
distance, and she was just reciting some verses, from one of her parts,
which she wished to have altered a little, when the sound of a horn
close at hand startled them, and from a by-path emerged a gay party
returning from the chase. The beautiful Yolande de Foix came first,
radiant as Diana, with a brilliant colour in her cheeks and eyes that
shone like stars. Several long rents in the velvet skirt of her riding
habit showed that she had been following the hounds through the thickets
of furze that abound in the Landes, yet she did not look in the least
fatigued, and as she came forward made her spirited horse fret and
prance under quick, light strokes of her riding-whip--in whose handle
shone a magnificent amethyst set in massive gold, and engraved with
the de Foix arms. Three or four young noblemen, splendidly dressed and
mounted, were with her, and as she swept proudly past our hero and his
fair companion-upon whom she cast a glance of haughty disdain--she
said in clear ringing tones, "Do look at the Baron de Sigognac, dancing
attendance upon a Bohemienne." And the little company passed on with a
shout of laughter.

The poor baron was furious, and instinctively grasped the handle of his
sword with a quick, angry movement; but as quickly released it--for he
was on foot and those who had insulted him were on horseback, so that he
could not hope to overtake them; and besides, he could not challenge a
lady. But the angry flush soon faded from his cheek, and the remembrance
of his displeasure from his mind, under the gentle influence of
Isabelle, who put forth all her powers of fascination to make her
companion forget the affront he had received because of her.

The day passed without any other incident worthy of being recorded, and
our travellers arrived in good season at the inn where they were to sup
and sleep.

CHAPTER III. THE BLUE SUN INN

It was in front of the largest house in a wretched little hamlet that
the weary oxen drawing the chariot of Thespis stopped of their own
accord. The wooden sign that creaked distractingly as it swung to and
fro at every breath of wind bore a large, blue sun, darting its rays,
after the most approved fashion, to the utmost dimensions of the board
on which it was painted. Rather an original idea, one would say, to have
a blue orb of day instead of a golden one--such as adorned so