reuse, remarking it, could
not forbear to say: "My dearest sister, how magnificent you look
to-day! Hippolyte, queen of the Amazons, was never more superb, or more
triumphantly beautiful, than you are in this most becoming costume."

Isabelle smiled in reply, as she put her pretty little foot into de
Sigognac's hand, and sprang lightly into her saddle.

Her husband and brother mounted also, and the little cavalcade set forth
in high glee, making the vaulted portico ring with their merry laughter,
as they rode through it. Just in front of the chateau they met the
Marquis de Bruyeres, and several other gentlemen of the neighbourhood,
coming to pay their respects. They wished to go back into the chateau
and receive their guests properly, saying that they could ride out at
any time, but the visitors would not listen to such a thing, and turning
their horses' heads proposed to ride with them. The party, increased by
six or eight cavaliers in gala dress--for the provincial lordlings
had made themselves as fine as possible to do honour to their new
neighbours--was really very imposing; a cortege worthy of a princess.
They rode on between broad green fields, through woods and groves and
highly cultivated farms, all of which had now been restored to the
estate they had originally belonged to; and the grateful, adoring
glances that the Baron de Sigognac found opportunity to bestow upon his
lovely baronne, made her heart beat high with a happiness almost too
perfect for this weary world of trials and sorrows.

As they were riding through a little pine wood, near the boundary line
of the estate, the barking of hounds was heard, and presently the party
met the beautiful Yolande de Foix, followed by her old uncle, and one
or two attendant cavaliers. The road was very narrow, and there was
scarcely room to pass, though each party endeavoured to make way for the
other. Yolande's horse was prancing about restively, and the skirt of
her long riding-habit brushed Isabelle's as she passed her. She was
furiously angry, and sorely tempted to address some cutting words to the
"Bohemienne" she had once so cruelly insulted; but Isabelle, who had a
soul above such petty malice, and had long ago forgiven Yolande for
her unprovoked insolence, felt how much her own triumph must wound the
other's proud spirit, and with perfect dignity and grace bowed to Mlle.
de Foix, who could not do less than respond by a slight inclination of
her haughty head,