"Well, go, good Marie, go and give her my note, and perhaps there will be a change," whispered François hurriedly, for footsteps were approaching; and while the nurse clambered wearily up the stair, the lover strode out into the night, leaving his father and brother to take their supper, and mature their plans for the morrow, without his help.
Two hours or so later the château was quiet, its lights extinguished, its inmates supposed to be asleep in preparation for the fatigues of the morrow; but, whether in houses or their inmates, great apparent calms occasionally cover intensity of emotion or action.
The count, to be sure, slept on principle; for he, too, had principles, logical outgrowth of his religion, a comfortable faith comprised in one tenet, viz.: To gain the utmost personal advantage at the least possible personal sacrifice.
One of the leading principles of this faith was care of the digestive organs, and the securing of that amount of rest and sleep essential to a person no longer young, who desires to retain the appearance of youth. So the count having supped artistically, gently ruminated sufficiently, and gone to bed cheerfully, now slept peacefully, and was out of the question.
Valerie de Rochenbois, on the contrary, was perhaps more widely awake than she had ever been in all her life, for she was thinking more deeply. The few words dropped by her guardian, and the expressive glances of his elder son, had conveyed to her quick intuition the whole story of their visit and in-
