e
little one might be satisfied that he had neighbour's fare. No matter;
what is done for one's _beaux yeux_ is easily pardoned--and if not, why,
I have her all the same!'

'Nevertheless, daughter,' said the Chevalier, gravely, 'the woman must
be silenced. Either she must be sent home, or taught so to swear to
having been mistaken, that _la petite_ may acquit your brother! But what
now, my daughter?'

'She is livid!' exclaimed Narcisse, with his sneer. 'What, sir, did not
you know she was smitten with the peach on the top of a pole?'

'Enough, brother,' said Diane, recovering herself enough to speak
hoarsely, but with hard dignity. 'You have slain--you need not insult,
one whom you have lost the power of understanding!'

'Shallow schoolboys certainly form no part of my study, save to kick
them down-stairs when they grow impudent,' said Narcisse, coolly. 'It is
only women who think what is long must be grand.'

'Come, children, no disputes,' said the Chevalier. 'Of course we regret
that so fine a youth mixed himself up with the enemies of the kingdom,
like the stork among the sparrows. Both Diane and I are sorry for the
necessity; but remember, child, that when he was interfering between
your brother and his just right of inheritance and destined wife,
he could not but draw such a fate on himself. Now all is smooth, the
estates will be united in their true head, and you--you too, my child,
will be provided for as suits your name. All that is needed is to soothe
the little one, so as to hinder her from making an outcry--and silence
the maid; my child will do her best for her father's sake, and that of
her family.'

Diane was less demonstrative than most of her countrywomen. She had
had time to recollect the uselessness of giving vent to her indignant
anguish, and her brother's derisive look held her back. The family
tactics, from force of habit, recurred to her; she made no further
objection to her father's commands; but when her father and brother
parted with her, she tottered into the now empty chapel, threw herself
down, with her burning forehead on the stone step, and so lay for hours.
It was not in prayer. It was because it was the only place where she
could be alone. To her, heaven above and earth below seemed alike full
of despair, darkness, and cruel habitations, and she lay like one
sick with misery and repugnance to the life and world that lay before
her--the hard world that had quenched that one fair lig