"I am not ambitious of such an honour," he answered gaily; "you know I
am but a fair-weather sort of page, fit only to hover around my lady's
bower, in the season of flowers and sunshine."

"Mine is no bower of ease," said Mad. la Tour; "but with all its perils,
I am resolved to guard it with my life, and resign it only into the
hands of my lord. You have promised to assist me," she added, after a
moment's pause, "and I wish you to redeem your word by remaining here
till I return. I care not to trust the faith of those idle soldiers,
who, perchance, think they have done enough of duty to-day, and your
keener eyes may keep a closer watch on the landing place, and sooner
espy the motions of the enemy, who still hold their station below."

"This I can do with pleasure," said the page, "and I am as brave as
heart can wish, when there is no danger nigh. I love to linger under the
open sky in the twilight of these bright days, which are so cheering
after the damp fogs of spring, that I can hardly regret the eternal
sunshine of my own dear France."

"Well, do not forget my commission in your romantic musings," replied
Mad. la Tour.

The page promised obedience, and, left to himself, assumed the post of
observation, retreating as far as possible from the view of the
soldiers. The soft and brilliant tints of twilight slowly faded away,
and the smooth surface of the river gradually darkened as its waves beat
in monotonous cadence against the walls of the fort. A slight breeze, at
intervals, lifted the silken folds of the banner, which drooped from the
tall flag-staff, displaying the escutcheon of La Tour, surmounted by the
arms of France. Far up, the noble stream, on either side, was skirted by