marry Mademioiselle Deshoulieres," he said, "I shall march
forward in the glorious career of arms; you have opened the way for
me, and I cannot fail of success under the instruction of the brave
Deshoulieres, whom Louvois honours with his friendship."

M. de Langevy put an end to the conversation by saying he would
consider--which seemed already a great step gained in favour of the
lovers.

On the next day's dawn, Hector was at the Cottage of the Vines.

"Alas, alas!" said the old woman, throwing open the window,
"the dear young lady is gone!"

"Gone!--you let her go!--but I will find her."

Hector ran to the Chateau d'Urtis. When he entered the park, he felt
he was too late, for he saw a carriage hurrying down the opposite
avenue. He rang the bell, and was shown in to the Duchess.

"'Tis you, Monsieur de Langevy," she said, sadly; "you come to see
Mademoiselle Deshoulieres. Think of her no more, for all is at an end
between you. On this earth you will meet no more, for in an hour she
will have left the world. She is gone, with her maid, to the Convent
of Val Chretien."

"Gone!" cried Hector, nearly fainting.

"She has left a farewell for you in this letter." Hector took the
letter which the Duchess held to him, and grew deadly pale as he
read these lines:--

"Farewell, then! 'Tis no longer Daphne who writes to you, but a
broken-hearted girl, who is to devote her life to praying for the
unhappy. I retire from the world with resignation. I make no
complaint: my two days' dream of happiness is gone. It was a
delicious eclogue--pure, sincere, and tender; but it is past--Adieu!"

Hector kissed the letter, and turned to the Duchess. "Have you a
horse, madam?" he said.

"What would you do with it?"

"I would overtake Mademoiselle Deshoulieres."

"You might overtake her, but you couldn't turn her."

"For mercy's sake, madam, a horse! Take pity on my misery."

The Duchess ordered a horse to be saddled, for she had opposed
Daphne's design. "Go," she said, "and Heaven guide you both!"

He started at full gallop: he overtook the carriage in half an hour.

"Daphne, you must go no further!" he said, holding out his hand to
the melancholy girl.

"'Tis you!" cried Daphne, with a look of surprise and joy--soon
succeeded by deeper grief than ever.

"Yes, 'tis I! I," continued the youth, "who love you as my Daphne,
my wife, for my father has listened at last to reason, and agrees to
all."

"But I also have list