n a letter--sometimes face to face, with
persons of great consequence falling on his neck. It is not wonderful if
his head is turned for a time. But once he is dead, were he as brave as
Hercules or as wise as Solomon, he is soon forgotten. It is not ten
years since my father fell, with many other knights around him, in a
very fierce encounter, and I do not think that any one of them, nor so
much as the name of the fight, is now remembered. No, no, madam, the
nearer you come to it, you see that death is a dark and dusty corner,
where a man gets into his tomb and has the door shut after him till the
judgment-day. I have few friends just now, and once I am dead I shall
have none."

"Ah, Monsieur de Beaulieu!" she exclaimed, "you forget Blanche de
Maletroit."

"You have a sweet nature, madam, and you are pleased to estimate a
little service far beyond its worth."

"It is not that," she answered. "You mistake me if you think I am so
easily touched by my own concerns. I say so, because you are the noblest
man I have ever met; because I recognise in you a spirit that would have
made even a common person famous in the land."

"And yet here I die in a mousetrap--with no more noise about it than my
own squeaking," answered he.

A look of pain crossed her face, and she was silent for a little while.
Then a light came into her eyes, and with a smile she spoke again.

"I cannot have my champion think meanly of himself. Any one who gives
his life for another will be met in Paradise by all the heralds and
angels of the Lord God. And you have no cause to hang your head.
For----Pray, do you think me beautiful?" she asked, with a deep flush.

"Indeed, madam, I do," he said.

"I am glad of that," she answered heartily. "Do you think there are many
men in France who have been asked in marriage by a beautiful
maiden--with her own lips--and who have refused her to her face? I know
you men would half-despise such a triumph; but believe me, we women know
more of what is precious in love. There is nothing that should set a
person higher in his own esteem; and we women would prize nothing more
dearly."

"You are very good," he said; "but you cannot make me forget that I was
asked in pity and not for love."

"I am not so sure of that," she replied, holding down her head. "Hear me
to an end, Monsieur de Beaulieu. I know how you must despise me; I feel
you are right to do so; I am too poor a creature to occupy one thought
of your mind,