panion. A minute's silence ensued—the young Italian always required encouragement to converse; and Louis was struck by the beauty of her profile, whose pure and sculptured features seemed so much more than fair in the soft clear radiance.
A burst of laughter now came from the chamber.
"How this perpetual gaiety," exclaimed Louis, "jars upon the ear! Good Heaven! is farewell to be said so gladly? I sometimes start when I think upon the hollowness of all that surrounds me. I often wish my eye had the power of searching the inmost depths of the bosoms whose watchword is my name."
"And amid, perhaps, some disappointments, how many hearts would you not find faithful and devoted to your Majesty!"
"I wish but for one."
Francesca looked down and blushed,—first at the earnest gaze of Louis's face; and, secondly, but still deeper, at her own folly in having individualised a general expression.
"It were against all rules, whether of history or romance—whether I look to my grandfather Henri Quatre, or to the less veracious chronicles of Scuderi, and copy Oroondates—to depart without some favour." So saying he took a little bunch
