luence is powerful and widespread. I forgot one
detail, however, he believes, they tell me, in the growing power of the
clergy, and has become very devout."

He checked himself; the carriage had stopped before the entrance of
the Chateau de Courtornieu, and the marquis came forward to receive his
guests in person. A nattering distinction, which he seldom lavished upon
his visitors. The marquis was long rather than tall, and very solemn
in deportment. The head that surmounted his angular form was remarkably
small, a characteristic of his race, and covered with thin, glossy black
hair, and lighted by cold, round black eyes.

The pride that becomes a gentleman, and the humility that befits a
Christian, were continually at war with each other in his countenance.

He pressed the hands of M. de Sairmeuse and Martial, overwhelming them
with compliments uttered in a thin, rather nasal voice, which, issuing
from his immense body, was as astonishing as the sound of a flute
issuing from the pipes of an orphicleide would be.

"At last you have come," he said; "we were waiting for you before
beginning our deliberations upon a very grave, and also very delicate
matter. We are thinking of addressing a petition to His Majesty. The
nobility, who have suffered so much during the Revolution, have a right
to expect ample compensation. Our neighbors, to the number of sixteen,
are now assembled in my cabinet, transformed for the time into a council
chamber."

Martial shuddered at the thought of all the ridiculous and tiresome
conversation he would probably be obliged to hear; and his father's
recommendation occurred to him.

"Shall we not have the honor of paying our respects to Mademoiselle de
Courtornieu?"

"My daughter must be in the drawing-room with our cousin," replied
the marquis, in an indifferent tone; "at least, if she is not in the
garden."

This might be construed into, "Go and look for her if you choose." At
least Martial understood it in that way; and when they entered the hall,
he allowed his father and the marquis to go upstairs without him.

A servant opened the door of the drawing-room for him--but it was empty.

"Very well," said he; "I know my way to the garden."

But he explored it in vain; no one was to be found.

He decided to return to the house and march bravely into the presence of
the dreaded enemy. He had turned to retrace his steps when, through the
foliage of a bower of jasmine, he thought he could