"It is so rare to find such condescension in so great a monarch."
"Monarch!" cried Pauline: "were you speaking of Roderick, father?"
"And of whom were you speaking, child?" returned her father, turning quickly round, and fixing his eyes upon her.
"Of—of—Mr. Montagu, father," replied Pauline, casting down her eyes and deeply blushing.
"Pauline!" said M. de Mallet. She started at the sound of her father's voice, and looked timidly up in his face. "Pauline," repeated he, "my dear child, beware!"
At this moment a roar of cannon shook the tent; the sound echoed by the walls of the town, and leaping from hill to hill in lengthened peals, Pauline sunk upon her knees, hiding her face in her father's lap. "My child! my beloved child!" cried M. de Mallet, bending over her as though to shield her from danger, "Heaven defend thee!"
In this painful situation, the father and daughter continued till the cannonading ceased.
