"M'sieur de Lambert?" I exclaimed.
"M'sieur de Lambert. Came yesterday, via Montreal, with a fine young nobleman—the Count Esmon de Brovel," said he. "You must look out for him; he has the beauty of Apollo and the sword of a cavalier."
"And I no fear of him," I answered soberly, with a quick sense of alarm.
"They rode over in the afternoon with Chaumont," he went on. "It seems the young ladies' father, getting no news of them, had become worried. Well, you may go and have three days for your fun; I shall need you presently."
Breakfast over, I got a team for the ladies, and, mounting my own horse, rode before them. I began to consider a very odd thing in this love experience. While they were in captivity I had begun to think less of Louison and more of Louise. In truth, one face had faded a little in my memory; the other, somehow, had grown clearer and sweeter, as if by a light borrowed from the soul behind it. Now that I saw Louison, her splendid face and figure appealed to me with all the power of old. She was quick,
