"I don't say no; but I am willing to undertake to ensnare you as you deluded me last year at the court ball. And that during our visit here, or at any rate before we go back to the world."
"As you please," said De Montalvan, indifferently.
"Is it a wager, then?" asked De Berniers, half trembling with impatience.
"Yes.
"For ten louis?"
"Very well."
On arriving at the chateau, M. de Berniers sought his fellow-conspirator alone, and, finding her duly attired, proceeded to criticise.
"Hum, another patch on the left cheek, I should say. But no matter. Pray be careful of your voice. Nothing is so difficult to disguise as the voice. I always detect a man instantly by his voice; though, to be sure, De Montalvan is not experienced, like me, and there will be no trouble in deceiving him. Now let me see you walk."
Virginie took a few steps to and fro.
"My dear friend, don't stride like that," said De Berniers; "short steps, in this manner, if you please"; and he mincingly illustrated, to Virginie's intense gratification.
"Now, a salutation," he added.
Virginie courtesied.
"Bad, bad," said De Berniers; "it is clear you are not used to this sort of thing. Try this";—and he executed a profound feminine obeisance.
"That 's better," he remarked, approvingly, as she affected to imitate him; "and now these shoulders. An, but these shoulders are very bad. You should curve them forward, thus,"—with which he seized Virginie's shoulders, and endeavored to press them into what he conceived to be the proper position.
"Take your hands away, Monsieur," screamed the young lady, springing from him with great precipitation.
"Ticklish, I see," he quietly remarked. "And now there is one thing more. Whatever else you do, speak low, and do not swear. I have known many a comedy of this sort to be ruined by an inadvertent oath."
"I will try, Monsieur."
Then De Montalvan was brought, and was in proper form presented. At sight of him, Virginie faintly blushed, which circumstance enchanted De Berniers. "The rascal does better than I could have expected," he thought. After a short conversation, he contrived an excuse to leave them alone together,—his accomplice and his dupe.
"At last, Mademoiselle," said De Montalvan, dismissing the pretence of reserve which he had maintained during his friend's presence,—"at last we meet again; but how unexpectedly, and under what strange circumstances!"
"Indeed, Monsieur, I am hardly less surprised at seeing you again, than I was at your mysterious disappearance from Paris, some months ago."
"But were you not aware—"
"Of what?"
"That I was ordered to accompany M. de Richelieu to Port Mahon?"
"The orders of M. de Richelieu must be very imperative."
"To a soldier they are, Mademoiselle. But at present I am not a soldier. The expedition is gloriously ended, and I submit myself to your orders, and to yours only."
During the few days that intervened before M. de Terville's return, De Berniers labored heart and soul—that is to say, with as much of either as was in him—to still further entangle his misguided and infatuated friend. It was clear to him that De Montalvan was hopelessly in love, and, since he had so well succeeded in the beginning of his enterprise, he saw no reason why he might not conduct it to a more triumphant conclusion than he had at first thought possible. He took counsel with Virginie, and besought the supposed cousin to send a messenger to M. de Terville, explaining the case, and asking his co-operation. He even stimulated De Montalvan's passion by pri-
