The men scrambled to their feet slowly and with difficulty, and staggered out into the court as best they might, where the fresh air, and the treatment prescribed by Malartic, did a good deal towards reviving them; but they were a sorry looking set after all, and there were many aching heads among them.  As soon as they were fit for it, Malartic took three of the least tipsy of them, and leading the way to a small postern that opened on the moat, unchained a row-boat lying there, crossed the broad ditch, ascended a steep flight of steps leading up the bank on the other side, and, leaving one man to guard the boat, proceeded to make a tour of inspection in the immediate vicinity of the chateau; fortunately without stumbling on the party concealed in the wood, or seeing anything to arouse their suspicions; so they returned to their quarters perfectly satisfied that there was no enemy lurking near.

Meantime Isabelle, left quite alone, tried in vain to interest herself in a book she had found lying upon one of the side-tables.  She read a few pages mechanically, and then, finding it impossible to fix her attention upon it, threw the volume from her and sat idly in front of the fire, which was blazing cheerily, thinking of her own true lover, and praying that he might be preserved from injury in the impending struggle.  Evening came at last—­a servant brought in lights, and soon after the major-domo announced a visit from the Duke of Vallombreuse.  He entered at once, and greeted his fair captive with the most finished courtesy.  He looked very handsome, in a superb suit of pearl gray satin, richly trimmed with crimson velvet, and Isabelle could not but admire his personal appearance, much as she detested his character.

“I have come to see, my adorable Isabelle, whether I shall be more kindly received than my flowers,” said he, drawing up a chair beside hers.  “I have not the vanity to think so, but I want you to become accustomed to my presence.  To-morrow another bouquet, and another visit.”

“Both will be useless, my lord,” she replied, “though I am sorry to have to be so rude as to say so—­but I had much better be perfectly frank with you.”

“Ah, well!” rejoined the duke, with a malicious smile, “I will dispense with hope, and content myself with reality.  You do not know, my poor child, what a Vallombreuse can do—­you, who vainly try to resist him.  He has never yet known what it was to have an unsatisfied desire—­he invariably gains his ends, in spite of all opposition—­nothing can stop him.  Tears, supplication, laments, threats, even dead bodies and smoking ruins would not daunt him.  Do not tempt him too powerfully, by throwing new obstacles in his way, you imprudent child!”