excited, and could not withstand the Italian's determination. She was thus forced to become a suppliant, and solicit Du Plessis to yield to his Eminence; but Anne found in the favourite à germ of obstinacy equalling her own, and based on loftier motives.

Hence arose distrust and dissatisfaction, and Isoline was too quickwitted to be ignorant, that she could not long expect to enjoy a benefit, if she did not comply with the tenure by which it was held. Bartholin, her maître d'hôtel, she knew to be a spy in the pay of Mazarin, and so placed, in order to pick up information casually let fall from the lips of her guests, or overheard by direct eaves-dropping. This man, she felt, might now perform the same office on the actions of his ostensible mistress. The idea was galling; it revealed the yoke of her servitude; she was humbled and distressed, yet knew not what to do. It was while under the influence of these feelings, that St. Maur crossed her path. His form pleased her eye, his actions gave assurance of fidelity. In a defenceless state, our minds instinctively look around for support, and cling to whatever affords promise of help. It was so with Isoline. And the growth of this feeling had brought about, in the few eventful hours which had rolled away since their first meeting, the intercourse and mutual confidence expressed, which we have recorded.

Much of what is here narrated was necessarily but lightly touched on, coming from the lips of the fair Du Plessis, and her auditor, a youth of her own age.

When she had finished, he was silent and reserved. Her history revealed the mystery oft dwelling in high places, and he thought more kindly on his own poverty and humble garret.

But it was not in the nature of Isoline to be long sad, or suffer sadness in others. She rallied her young friend on his rapid acquirements of the fashionable accomplishments of the Parisian youth -his encounter of skill with the disguised minister approached the daring recklessness of De Retz.

You do me extreme honour, madame," said St. Maur, " to compare me with the Archbishop elect of Paris. But may I ask how came his Eminence with the defaced coin? I am certain it was not brought from the Quai des Orfèvres."

Isoline replied, that as he had gained so much of her confidence, and being herself now in a state of suppressed enmity with the Cardinal, she would not conceal that his Eminence could not quit one very mean habit, which he had probably acquired while a comparatively indigent adventurer at Rome-that of selecting and

putting aside all the light uncurrent pieces to pay debts of honour, carefully depositing the weightier coin he received in another pocket. Such a course, remarked the lady, was extremely bad policy, for it might have betrayed him with those who knew his failing. “You watched his Eminence so closely,” continued Du Plessis, "that he believed himself discovered. Perhaps the bright unsullied coin he won of the knight may soften his resentment. But remember, monsieur, there is no safety for you but in the service of her majesty—nothing but that can save your life, or, at least, preserve your freedom!"

St. Maur still objected to the course. Could he forsake the heroic Condé, to be subjected to similar humiliating offices which were sought to be imposed on Isoline?

But she, who knew the Cardinal well, was resolved that the youth should not be lost, if her entreaties could prevent it. Gourville's unscrupulous actions much aided her arguments, and he at length consented to sleep over his doubts.

“Then I will summon your jailer," exclaimed Du Plessis, rising

CHAPTER VII.

Fortune dont la main couronne
Les forfaits les plus inouïs,

Du faux éclat qui t'environne
Serons-nous toujours éblouis?

THE few days elapsed since the conversation narrated in the last chapter had worked much alteration in the fortunes of St. Maur Our scene changes to the Palais Royal, where he occupied the charge of usher and attendant on the sittings of the cabinet council. Such were the strange results of intercourse with disguised royalty. From the petty tavern to the palace of the sovereign was a wide leap, hardly achieved by any calculation or foresight--a pure freak of the blind goddess. But our successes are ever clogged with a counterbalance of evil; we never taste the gifts of fortune unmixed; on arriving at the coveted station, it is found we have spent half our resources to reach the ascent. So it was with St. Maur. No longer ill-fed, ill-lodged, desponding of the morrow, he was basking in the sunbeams of the royal favour, but he was far, very far from being happy.

The Cardinal noticed him flatteringly, but he had been taught to dread his smiles. Isoline warned him and his own sagacity predicated ominously of the prelate's extreme complaisance. It was uncertain, however, where or when the shaft would strike; he was forced, therefore, to rely on the protection of the presumed sanctity of the Queen's service, and her own pledged word.

Without doors, even his significant appointment had created much ferment, and, with certain parties, considerable dismay. St. Maur, whose silent unobtrusive career had, in his own estimation, doomed him to obscurity, was surprised to discover that public rumour was busy with the fact of one of Condé's most trusted and confidential friends having forsaken his service, and become a Mazarinian; whilst those pretending to more sagacity believed the new adherent of the court had not separated from the prince, but was employed in bring. ing about a reconciliation between his Eminence and the hero of Rocroi. What gave some colour to this surmise, was the circumstance of our young adventurer being often employed by the Cardinal in offices foreign to the duties of his station. The Queen and her minister met as frequently as heretofore; and St. Maur, possessed already of the secret, there was no fresh risk incurred in leaving to his conduct the management of these interviews. Nor was it an unpleasing task for the youth to visit the hôtel in the Place Royale; even the convent of the Val-de-Grace, whither he occasionally attended on the footsteps of royalty, was dear to his sight, renewing to the imagination the enshrined picture of memory, as ap. peared when Isoline vanished from his view on that eventful night.

On becoming one of the household of the Palais Royal, he wrote to Gourville, requesting him to assure the prince of the deep sense of his royal highness's courtesy, which would dwell for ever in his memory; and that, in taking service with the sovereign, he did not resign the fealty he owed the houses of Montmorenci and Condé.

Once, and only once, since this event, had he encountered the prince and master of the horse. The latter sneeringly remarked on the good fortune of the family of St. Maur, in other days sending forth leaders of armies, and now, a descendant to brush clean the chair of an Italian parasite. Condé's silent rebuke he felt more keenly; the prince glared on him in passing without speaking, barely returning his salute.

་,་་་་

Vexed with himself-dissatisfied with the change of party which he could not reconcile to honour-serving a master whom he knew

would gladly compass his destruction-a mistress careless of his fate -there was only one bright star in the horizon of hope. He soon discovered that Anne had no interest in his advancement, throwing around him a feeble protection for the sake of the fair Isoline. To her he turned as his sole support, the beacon which was to guide him through perils which threw their shadow before.

One morning, loitering idly in a recess of the gallery, he was joined by du Plessis, whose look bespoke the herald of important tidings. Mazarin, on arriving at the palace, had been closeted with the Queen in her little gray chamber-a boudoir of audience so named, adjoining her private oratory; and the result was a summons for St. Maur to attend the Cardinal at the Hôtel Mazarin.

"There must be farther advancement for you yet,” continued the lady; "the secretaries, I hear, are already jealous.”

"And heralded by so fair a messenger, I will meet my new hon. ours gaily,” replied the youth. Yet, if I could but recover the Dauphiny lands, be paid my claims of compensation by that grim treasurer D'Emeri, rebuild the chateau, and persuade ”

“Persuade some silly creature to give up the pleasures of the city," cried Isoline, interrupting him, "for the barbarous region you name Dauphiny, you would be perfectly happy!"

"I would certainly disobey all summons and commands saving those of the silly creature' you allude to,” rejoined St. Maur. I allude to, monsieur?" exclaimed du Plessis-" you mistake."

66

"Nothing more likely than that M. St. Maur should err!" said a voice suddenly breaking in upon their discourse.

They turned to confront the intruder; it was the Count de Nogent, a colonel of the Swiss guards, and a licensed prattler, who occasionally amused the evening assemblies of the court circle.

"Nothing so likely as that a young courtier like monsieur should err in his duties," continued the count; "there are three messengers in quest of him at this very moment. The Cardinal is growing impatient, but monsieur has a happy excuse for his absence.”

"What other news have you, count?" asked the youth, who felt disposed to be vexed, yet very prudently avoided the display.

"It is rumoured," replied de Nogent, "that the prince is anxious to clear himself of the imputation of the deep insult offered her majesty by his creature Gourville. For a subject to levy money almost within sight of the palace, is an insult to the throne which a prince of the blood could never own himself guilty of."

St. Maur perceived that this was aimed at himself; but, as the count derived the little importance he possessed from his auditors sometimes unwisely listening to his impertinences, the youth-pleaded the Cardinal's commands, and withdrew.

A very short walk from the palace brought him to the Rue Vivienne, where stood the Hôtel or Palais de Mazarin, hidden from the street by a lofty wall, at either end of which admittance was obtained by a carriage entrance, protected by strong gates, well studded with iron. Much caution was exercised in the admission of visitors; they were reconnoitred and their business demanded by the porter, ensconced behind the massive portals, and parleying through a strong grating of metal. Admittance gained, the visitor was led across the court-yard, and into a hall or vestibule of the building, where waited, night and day, armed domestics, allowing no passage to the stranger until permission was obtained from the interior.

With the exception of the armed attendants, the hall breathed an air of voluptuous refinement and civilization to which the regal palace could lay no claim of competition. On each side was a display of statuary, partly the workmanship of the renowned age of Leo X., and partly the remains of the classic ages of ancient Greece. The only violation of correct taste was in the allotment of two suits of tilting armour, so mounted as to present the attitude of sentinels, at the foot of the staircase, with protruding lances meeting over bead, and from which was suspended a lamp of Venetian make. The walls of the staircase were covered with rich paintings from the hands of the Roman and Florentine artists, and invited the ascent of the visitor. The stairs were covered with a carpet of tapestry, an innovation on the polished oak and chestnut of the royal houses of France; and everything bespoke the presence of a luxury yet unknown north of the Alps.

"Is this the habitation of the man," St. Maur asked himself, who ran such risks to win of me a trifle of gold, and who is mean enough to play the cheat with light coin ?"

It was hardly credible, he thought, as he lingered behind the domestic, catching hasty glimpses of the pictorial treasures which enriched the walls. Above, ran a gallery, opening into divers apartments. Between and above the doors was exhibited the same gorgeous profusion of paintings. The deep recesses of the windows were almost sanctified by small cabinet pictures of the Madonna, heads of saints, and divine subjects exclusively; each resembling a