ng heavily, and boasting that I would make
a conquest of the first woman brought to Roche-Mauprat--for I had been
rallied on my modesty--when a second blast of the horn announced that it
was my Uncle Lawrence bringing in a prize.

"If it is a woman," cried my Uncle Antony, as he went out to the
portcullis, "I swear by the soul of my father that she shall be yours,
and we'll see if your courage is equal to your conceit."

When the door opened again a woman entered, and one of the Mauprats
whispered to me that the young lady had lost her way at a wolf hunt and
that Lawrence, meeting her in the forest, had promised to escort her to
Rochemaure where she had friends. Never having seen the face of one of
my uncles, and little dreaming she was near their haunt, for she had
never had a glimpse of Roche-Mauprat, she was led into the castle
without having the least suspicion of the trap into which she had
fallen. When I beheld this woman, so young and so beautiful, with her
expression of calm sincerity and goodness, it seemed to me I was
dreaming.

My uncles withdrew, for Antony had pledged his word, and I was left
alone with the stranger. For a moment I felt more bewildered and
stupefied than pleased. With the fumes of wine in my head I could only
suppose this lady was some acquaintance of Lawrence's, and that she had
been told of my drunken boast and was willing to put my gallantry to the
proof. I got up and bolted and double-locked the door.

She was sitting close to the fire, drying her wet garments, without
noticing what I had done. I made up my mind to kiss her, but no sooner
had she raised her eyes to mine than this familiarity became impossible.
All I could say, was:

"Upon my word, mademoiselle, you are a charming creature, and I love
you--as true as my name is Bernard Mauprat."

"Bernard Mauprat!" she cried, springing up; "you are Bernard Mauprat,
you? In that case learn to whom you are speaking, and change your
manners."

"Really!" I said with a grin, "but let my lips meet yours, and you shall
see if I am not as nicely mannered as those uncles of mine."

Her lips grew white. Her agony was manifest in every gesture. I
shuddered myself, and was in a state of great perplexity.

This woman was beautiful as the day. I do not believe that there has
ever lived a woman as lovely as she. And this was the first trial of her
life.

She was my young cousin, Edmee de Mauprat, daughter of M. Hubert de
Mauprat, the cheva