Alyre is, in all respects, the most beautiful lady I ever beheld."

The masque laughed coldly, and then, more and more softly, said, with a
sigh, "I will prove all I say." And as she spoke she removed the mask:
and the Countess de St. Alyre, smiling, confused, bashful, more
beautiful than ever, stood before me!

"Good Heavens!" I exclaimed. "How monstrously stupid I have been. And it
was to Madame la Comtesse that I spoke for so long in the _salon!_"
I gazed on her in silence. And with a low sweet laugh of good nature she
extended her hand. I took it and carried it to my lips.

"No, you must not do that," she said quietly, "we are not old enough
friends yet. I find, although you were mistaken, that you do remember
the Countess of the Belle Etoile, and that you are a champion true and
fearless. Had you yielded to the claims just now pressed upon you by the
rivalry of Mademoiselle de la Valiere, in her mask, the Countess de St.
Alyre should never have trusted or seen you more. I now am sure that you
are true, as well as brave. You now know that I have not forgotten you;
and, also, that if you would risk your life for me, I, too, would brave
some danger, rather than lose my friend forever. I have but a few
moments more. Will you come here again tomorrow night, at a quarter past
eleven? I will be here at that moment; you must exercise the most
scrupulous care to prevent suspicion that you have come here, Monsieur.
_You owe that to me_."

She spoke these last words with the most solemn entreaty.

I vowed again and again that I would die rather than permit the least
rashness to endanger the secret which made all the interest and value of