ance；　they　say。〃
  The　stranger　was　one　of　the　foreigners　traveling　in　France　at　the　time　when　Napoleon　detained　all　British　subjects　within　the　limits　of　the　Empire；　by　way　of　reprisals　for　the　violation　of　the　Treaty　of　Amiens；　an　outrage　of　international　law　perpetrated　by　the　Court　of　St。　James。　These　prisoners；　compelled　to　submit　to　the　Emperor's　pleasure；　were　not　all　suffered　to　remain　in　the　houses　where　they　were　arrested；　nor　yet　in　the　places　of　residence　which　at　first　they　were　permitted　to　choose。　Most　of　the　English　colony　in　Touraine　had　been　transplanted　thither　from　different　places　where　their　presence　was　supposed　to　be　inimical　to　the　interests　of　the　Continental　Policy。
  The　young　man；　who　was　taking　the　tedium　of　the　early　morning　hours　on　horseback；　was　one　of　these　victims　of　bureaucratic　tyranny。　Two　years　previously；　a　sudden　order　from　the　Foreign　Office　had　dragged　him　from　Montpellier；　whither　he　had　gone　on　account　of　consumptive　tendencies。　He　glanced　at　the　Comte　d'Aiglemont；　saw　that　he　was　a　military　man；　and　deliberately　looked　away；　turning　his　head　somewhat　abruptly　towards　the　meadows　by　the　Cise。
  〃The　English　are　all　as　insolent　as　if　the　globe　belonged　to　them；〃　muttered　the　Colonel。　〃Luckily；　Soult　will　give　them　a　thrashing　directly。〃
  The　prisoner　gave　a　glance　to　the　caleche　as　he　rode　by。　Brief　though　that　glance　was；　he　had　yet　time　to　notice　the　sad　expression　which　lent　an　indefinable　charm　to　the　Countess'　pensive　face。　Many　men　are　deeply　moved　by　the　mere　semblance　of　suffering　in　a　woman；　they　take　the　look　of　pain　for　a　sign　of　constancy　or　of　love。　Julie　herself　was　so　much　absorbed　in　the　contemplation　of　the　opposite　cushion　that　she　saw　neither　the　horse　nor　the　rider。　The　damaged　trace　meanwhile　had　been　quickly　and　strongly　repaired；　the　Count　stepped　into　his　place　again；　and　the　post…boy；　doing　his　best　to　make　up　for　lost　time；　drove　the　carriage　rapidly　along　the　embankment。　On　they　drove　under　the　overhanging　cliffs；　with　their　picturesque　vine…dressers'　huts　and　stores　of　wine　maturing　in　their　dark　sides；　till　in　the　distance　uprose　the　spire　of　the　famous　Abbey　of　Marmoutiers；　the　retreat　of　St。　Martin。
  〃What　can　that　diaphanous　milord　want　with　us？〃　exclaimed　the　Colonel；　turning　to　assure　himself　that　the　horseman　who　had　followed　them　from　the　bridge　was　the　young　Englishman。
  After　all；　the　stranger　committed　no　breach　of　good　manners　by　riding　along　on　the　footway；　and　Colonel　d'Aiglemont　was　fain　to　lie　back　in　his　corner　after　sending　a　scowl　in　the　Englishman's　direction。　But　in　spite　of　his　hostile　instincts；　he　could　not　help　noticing　the　beauty　of　the　animal　and　the　graceful　horsemanship　of　the　rider。　The　young　man's　face　was　of　that　pale；　fair…complexioned；　insular　type；　which　is　almost　girlish　in　the　softness　and　delicacy　of　its　color　and　texture。　He　was　tall；　thin；　and　fair…haired；　dressed　with　the　extreme　and　elaborate　neatness　characteristic　of　a　man　of　fashion　in　prudish　England。　Any　one　might　have　thought　that　bashfulness　rather　than　pleasure　at　the　sight　of　the　Countess　had　called　up　that　flush　into　his　face。　Once　only　Julie　raised　her　eyes　and　looked　at　the　stranger；　and　then　only　because　she　was　in　a　manner　compelled　to　do　so；　for　her　husband　called　upon　her　to　admire　the　action　of　the　thoroughbred。　It　so　happened　that　their　glances　clashed；　and　the　shy　Englishman；　instead　of　riding　abreast　of　the　carriage；　fell　behind　on　this；　and　followed　them　at　a　distance　of　a　few　paces。
  Yet　the　Countess　had　scarcely　given　him　a　glance；　she　saw　none　of　the　various　perfections；　human　and　equine；　commended　to　her　notice；　and　fell　back　again　in　the　carriage；　with　a　slight　movement　of　the　eyelids　intended　to　express　her　acquiescence　in　her　husband's　views。　The　Colonel　fell　asleep　again；　and　both　husband　and　wife　reached　Tours　without　another　word。　Not　one　of　those　enchanting　views　of　everchanging　landscape　through　which　they　sped　had　drawn　so　much　as　a　glance　from　Julie's　eyes。
  Mme。　d'Aiglemont　looked　now　and　again　at　her　sleeping　husband。　While　she　looked；　a　sudden　jolt　shook　something　down　upon　her　knees。　It　was　her　father's　portrait；　a　miniature　which　she　wore　suspended　about　her　neck　by　a　black　cord。　At　the　sight　of　it；　the　tears；　till　then　kept　back；　overflowed　her　eyes；　but　no　one；　save　perhaps　the　Englishman；　saw　them　glitter　there　for　a　brief　moment　before　they　dried　upon　her　pale　cheeks。
  Colonel　d'Aiglemont　was　on　his　way　to　the　South。　Marshal　Soult　was　repelling　an　English　invasion　of　Bearn；　and　d'Aiglemont；　the　bearer　of　the　Emperor's　orders　to　the　Marshal；　seized　the　opportunity　of　taking　his　wife　as　far　as　Tours　to　leave　her　with　an　elderly　relative　of　his　own；　far　away　from　the　dangers　threatening　Paris。
  Very　shortly　the　carriage　rolled　over　the　paved　road　of　Tours；　over　the　bridge；　along　the　Grande…Rue；　and　stopped　at　last　before　the　old　mansion　of　the　/ci…devant/　Marquise　de　Listomere…Landon。
  The　Marquise　de　Listomere…Landon；　with　her　white　hair；　pale　face；　and　shrewd　smile；　was　one　of　those　fine　old　ladies　who　still　seem　to　wear　the　paniers　of　the　eighteenth　century；　and　affects　caps　of　an　extinct　mode。　They　are　nearly　always　caressing　in　their　manners；　as　if　the　heyday　of　love　still　lingered　on　for　these　septuagenarian　portraits　of　the　age　of　Louis　Quinze；　with　the　faint　perfume　of　/poudre　a　la　marechale/　always　clinging　about　them。　Bigoted　rather　than　pious；　and　less　of　bigots　than　they　seem；　women　who　can　tell　a　story　well　and　talk　still　better；　their　laughter　comes　more　readily　for　an　old　memory　than　for　a　new　jestthe　present　intrudes　upon　them。
  When　an　old　waiting…woman　announced　to　the　Marquise　de　Listomere…　Landon　（to　give　her　the　title　which　she　was　soon　to　resume）　the　arrival　of　a　nephew　whom　she　had　not　seen　since　the　outbreak　of　the　war　with　Spain；　the　old　lady　took　off　her　spectacles　with　alacrity；　shut　the　/Galerie　de　l'ancienne　Cour/　（her　favorite　work）；　and　recovered　something　like　youthful　activity；　hastening　out　upon　the　flight　of　steps　to　greet　the　young　couple　there。
  Aunt　and　niece　exchanged　a　rapid　glance　of　survey。
  〃Good…morning；　dear　aunt；〃　cried　the　Colonel；　giving　the　old　lady　a　hasty　embrace。　〃I　am　bringing　a　young　lady　to　put　under　your　wing。　I　have　come　to　put　my　treasure　in　your　keeping。　My　Julie　is　neither　jealous　nor　a　coquette；　she　is　as　good　as　an　angel。　I　hope　that　she　will　not　be　spoiled　here；〃　he　added；　suddenly　interrupting　himself。
  〃Scapegrace！〃　returned　the　Marquise；　with　a　satirical　glance　at　her　nephew。
  She　did　not　wait　for　her　niece　to　approach　her；　but　with　a　certain　kindly　graciousness　went　forward　herself　to　kiss　Julie；　who　stood　there　thoughtfully；　to　all　appearance　more　embarrassed　than　curious　concerning　her　new　relation。
  〃So　we　are　to　make　each　other's　acquaintance；　are　we；　my　love？〃　the　Marquise　continued。　〃Do　not　be　too　much　alarmed　of　me。　I　always　try　not　to　be　an　old　woman　with　young　people。〃
  On　the　way　to　the　drawing…room；　the　Marquise　ordered　breakfast　for　her　guests　in　provincial　fashion；　but　the　Count　checked　his　aunt's　flow　of　words　by　saying　soberly　that　he　could　only　remain　in　the　house　while　the　horses　were　changing。　On　this　the　three　hurried　into　the　drawing…　room。　The　Colonel　had　barely　time　to　tell　the　story　of　the　political　and　military　events　which　had　compelled　him　to　ask　his　aunt　for　a　shelter　for　his　young　wife。　While　he　talked　on　without　interruption；　the　older　lady　looked　from　her　nephew　to　her　niece；　and　took　the　sadness　in　Julie's　white　face　for　grief　at　the　enforced　separation。　〃Eh！　eh！〃　her　looks　seemed　to　say；　〃these　young　things　are　in　love　with　each　other。〃
  The　crack　of　the　postilion's　whip　sounded　outside　in　the　silent　old　grass…grown　courtyard。　Victor　embraced　his　aunt　once　more；　and　rushed　out。
  〃Good…bye；　dear；〃　he　said；　kissing　his　wife；　who　had　followed　him　down　to　the　carriage。
  〃Oh！　Victor；　let　me　come　still　further　with　you；〃　she　pleaded　coaxingly。　〃I　do　not　want　to　leave　you〃
  〃Can　you　seriously　mean　it？〃
  〃Very　well；〃　said　Julie；　〃since　you　wish　it。〃　The　carriage　disappeared。
  〃So　you　are　very　fond　of　my　poor　Victor？〃　said　the　Marquise；　interrogating　her　niece　with　one　of　those　sagacious　glances　which　dowagers　give　younger　women。
  〃Alas；　madame！〃　said　Julie；　〃must　one　not　love　a　man　well　indeed　to　marry　him？〃
  The　words　were　spoken　with　an　artless　accent　which　revealed　either　a　pure　heart　or　inscrutable　depths。　How　could　a　woman；　who　had　been　the　friend　of　Duclos　and　the　Marechal　de　Richelieu；　refrain　from　trying　to　read　the　riddle　of　this　marriage？　Aunt　and　niece　were　standing　on　the　steps；　gazing　after　the　fast　vanishing　caleche。　The　look　in　the　young　Countess'　eyes　did　not　mean　love　as　the　Marquise　understood　it。　The　good　lady　was　a　Provencale；　and　her　passions　had　been　lively。
  〃So　you　were　captivated　by　my　good…for…nothing　of　a　nephew？〃　she　asked。
  Involuntarily　Julie　shuddered；　something　in　the　experienced　coquette's　look　and　tone　seemed　to　say　that　Mme。　de　Listomere…Landon's　knowledge　of　her　husband's　character　went　perhaps　deeper　than　his　wife's。　Mme。　d'Aiglemont；　in　dismay；　took　refuge　in　this　transparent　dissimulation；　ready　to　her　hand；　the　first　resource　of　an　artless　unhappiness。　Mm