soldier's serenade. Sweet memories! bitter fruit!"

"Why bitter? ye love each other still."

"But I am vowed to celibacy, and Adeline de Courval is leman where she
should be wedded dame. Methinks I fret at that thought even more than
she,--dear Adeline!"

"Your lady, as all would guess, is then nobly born?"

"She is," answered Montreal, with a deep and evident feeling which, save
in love, rarely, if ever, crossed his hardy breast. "She is! our tale is
a brief one:--we loved each other as children: Her family was wealthier
than mine: We were separated. I was given to understand that she
abandoned me. I despaired, and in despair I took the cross of St. John.
Chance threw us again together. I learned that her love was
undecayed. Poor child!--she was even then, sir, but a child! I,
wild,--reckless--and not unskilled, perhaps, in the arts that woo and
win. She could not resist my suit or her own affection!--We fled. In
those words you see the thread of my after history. My sword and
my Adeline were all my fortune. Society frowned on us. The Church
threatened my soul. The Grand Master my life. I became a knight of
fortune. Fate and my right hand favoured me. I have made those who
scorned me tremble at my name. That name shall yet blaze, a star or a
meteor, in the front of troubled nations, and I may yet win by force
from the Pontiff the dispensation refused to my prayers. On the same
day, I may offer Adeline the diadem and the ring.--Eno' of this;--you
marked Adeline's cheek!--Seems it not delicate? I like not that
changeful flush,--and she moves languidly,--her step that was so
blithe!"