f the
chariot; I loved you from that moment. But to continue: I was then
going down to the chateau, to be introduced to my future husband, whom I
had never seen, although the affair had been long arranged.

"My father had no idea that any harm could result from a few days'
acquaintance; and he felt too grateful to forbid you the house; but he
little knew how situation and opportunity will overcome time; and I knew
more of you in a few days than I thought I could have known of any man
in so many years. That I loved you--loved you dearly--you know well.

"But to proceed: (nay, don't kiss me so, or I shall never tell my
story.) The next morning I heard that you had gone, as you had told me
it was your intention; but my father's horse did not come back--my
father was grave, and the bishop more gloomy than usual. Two days
afterwards I was informed by my father that you were an impostor, that
all had been discovered, and that if taken you would probably be seized
by the inquisition; but you had fled the country, and were supposed to
have embarked at Toulon. He added, that my intended husband would
arrive in a few days.

"I considered all that he had told me, and I formed the following
conclusions:--First, that you were not the person you described yourself
to be; and, Secondly, that he had discovered our attachment, and had
insisted upon your not re-appearing--but that you had deserted me, and
left the country, I knew, after what had passed, _to be impossible_.
But whether you were Monsieur de Rouille or not, you were all I coveted,
and all that I adored; and I vowed that for you I would live or die. I
felt assured that one day or another, you would come back; and that
conviction supported me. My future husband appeared--he was odious.
The time fixed for our wedding drew nigh--I had but one resource, which
was flight. A young girl who attended me (you recollect her, she came
and told us the bishop was coming, when we were in the garden), I knew
to be attached to me. I took her in confidence, and through her means I
obtained a peasant's dress, with the promise of shelter in her father's
cottage, some leagues distant. The night before the marriage was to
take place, I ran down to the river that flows past the chateau, threw
my bonnet and shawl on the bank, and then made my escape to where her
father was waiting to receive me, in a cart which he had provided as a
conveyance. The girl, who was left, managed admirably