e except the three of us, sitting around
the fire under the solemn larches and firs, and our voices were kept
low.

We told her our only plan was to take her to Uzmaiz, and from thence
try to communicate with Madame Riano. None of us believed that any
very severe measures would be taken against Madame Riano, and we spoke
cheerfully of Francezka's speedily rejoining her. To this Francezka
listened attentively.

For an hour we sat thus, in the light of the fire's red blaze.
Francezka kept her mantle about her so that her masculine dress was
concealed; with her cavalier's hat upon her head, and her rich hair
curling upon her shoulders, as Gaston had described, she made a
beautiful boy--but one bound to excite suspicion. The innate coquetry
of her glance, the frequent changes of color, the sudden frowns and
smiles made any real masculine disguise impossible.

It was the first time I had really any conversation with Francezka.
How far removed in every way from the scene of our first meeting--the
ancient, well ordered garden of a splendid Paris hotel. But there is
certainly a subtile fascination in these singular and unexpected
meetings. No one with a taste for the wine of life, but relishes the
unusual, least of all Francezka; for I saw plainly, under all her
softness, a soul like Peggy Kirkpatrick's. And the more I knew of her
in after years, the more I knew that she had the courage of a Crusader
only partly concealed by a pretty, affected shyness. After she had
done her will, she trembled, hesitated, blushed, looked down in
timidity, looked up for approval--and was very ready with tears, when
she required them.

We three sat together for an hour, Francezka doing most of the
speaking. She told us something of her travels with Madame Riano. They
had set out from Paris very shortly after Count Saxe's departure, and
had spent nearly a year in visiting the various German courts. She was
unflinchingly loyal to her aunt, but she would have been more or less
than human could she have told without laughing of Madame Riano's
adventures, and Francezka was, herself, a wit, and a child of
laughter. She told us some of the most vivid events of their
scamperings over Europe--Francezka looking away meanwhile to avoid
seeing me smile, and sometimes covering her face with her mantle to
smother her merriment.

Scotch Peg had caused panics, earthquakes and convulsions at every
court she had visited, especially the smaller German ones,