k, it was because he had a valiant soul, a great heart,
and was master of himself as well as of Guillettes. But he swore that,
for the future, no female should enter his apartments. Happy had he been
if he had held to his oath to the end!

CHAPTER III

SOME years had elapsed since Monsieur de Montragoux had rid himself
of his sixth wife, and only a confused recollection remained in the
country-side of the domestic calamities which had fallen upon this
worthy _seigneur's_ house. Nobody knew what had become of his wives,
and hair-raising tales were told in the village at night; some believed
them, others did not. About this time, a widow, past the prime of life,
Dame Sidonie de Lespoisse, came to settle with her children in the manor
of La Motte-Giron, about two leagues, as the crow flies, from the castle
of Guillettes. Whence she came, or who her husband had been, not a soul
knew. Some believed, because they had heard it said, that he had held
certain posts in Savoy or Spain; others said that he had died in the
Indies; many had the idea that the widow was possessed of immense
estates, while others doubted it strongly. However, she lived in a
notable style, and invited all the nobility of the country-side to La
Motte-Giron. She had two daughters, of whom the elder, Anne, on the
verge of becoming an old maid, was a very astute person: Jeanne, the
younger, ripe for marriage, concealed a precocious knowledge of the
world under an appearance of simplicity. The Dame de Lespoisse had also
two sons, of twenty and twenty-two years of age; very fine well-made
young fellows, of whom one was a Dragoon, and the other a Musketeer. I
may add, having seen his commission, that he was a Black Musketeer.
When on foot, this was not apparent, for the Black Musketeers were
distinguished from the Grey not by the colour of their uniform, but by
the hides of their horses. All alike wore blue surcoats laced with gold.
As for the Dragoons, they were to be recognized by a kind of fur bonnet,
of which the tail fell gallantly over the ear. The Dragoons had the
reputation of being scamps, a scapegrace crowd, witness the song:

"Mama, here the dragoons come,
Let us haste away."

But you might have searched in vain through His Majesty's two regiments
of Dragoons for a bigger rake, a more accomplished sponger, or a viler
rogue than Cosme de Lespoisset. Compared with him, his brother was
an honest lad. Drunkard and gambler, Pierre de L