was anything but indifferent to her. She hastened
to present the Prince to the two Ladies of Croye, who received him with the
respect due to his eminent rank; and the Princess, pointing to a chair,
requested him to join their conversation party.
    The Duke declined the freedom of assuming a seat in such society; but taking
a cushion from one of the settles, he laid it at the feet of the beautiful young
Countess of Croye, and so seated himself, that, without appearing to neglect the
Princess, he was enabled to bestow the greater share of his attention on her
lovely neighbour.
    At first, it seemed as if this arrangement rather pleased than offended his
destined bride. She encouraged the Duke in his gallantries towards the fair
stranger, and seemed to regard them as complimentary to herself. But the Duke of
Orleans, though accustomed to subject his mind to the stern yoke of his uncle
when in the King's presence, had enough of princely nature to induce him to
follow his own inclinations whenever that restraint was withdrawn; and his high
rank giving him a right to overstep the ordinary ceremonies, and advance at once
to familiarity, his praises of the Countess Isabelle's beauty became so
energetic, and flowed with such unrestrained freedom, owing perhaps to his
having drunk a little more wine than usual - for Dunois was no enemy to the
worship of Bacchus - that at length he seemed almost impassioned, and the
presence of the Princess appeared well-nigh forgotten.
    The tone of compliment which he indulged was grateful only to one individual
in the circle; for the Countess Hameline already anticipated the dignity of an
alliance with the first Prince of the blood, by means of her whose birth,
beauty, and large possessions, rendered such an ambitious consummation by no
means impossible, even in the eyes of a less sanguine projector, could the views
of Louis XI. have been left out of the calculation of chances. The younger
Countess listened to the Duke's gallantries with anxiety and embarrassment, and
ever and anon turned an entreating look towards the Princess, as if requesting
her to come to her relief. But the wounded feelings, and the timidity of Joan of
France, rendered her incapable of an effort to make the conversation more
general; and at length, excepting a few interjectional civilities of the Lady
Hameline, it was maintained almost exclusively by the Duke himself, though at
the expense of the younger Countess of Croye, whose beauty formed the theme of
his high-flown eloquence.
    Nor must I forget that there was a third person, the unregarded sentinel,
who saw his