few words with you," and I fell back a pace or two.

He followed my example. Juliette left us together, going away
unconcernedly, like a wife who knew that she can learn her
husband's secrets as soon as she chooses to know them.

I told the Count briefly of the death of my traveling companion.
The effect produced by my news convinced me that his affection
for his young collaborator was cordial enough, and this
emboldened me to make reply as I did.

"My wife will be in despair," cried he; "I shall be obliged to
break the news of this unhappy event with great caution."

"Monsieur," said I, "I addressed myself to you in the first
instance, as in duty bound. I could not, without first informing
you, deliver a message to Mme. la Comtesse, a message intrusted
to me by an entire stranger; but this commission is a sort of
sacred trust, a secret of which I have no power to dispose. From
the high idea of your character which he gave me, I felt sure
that you would not oppose me in the fulfilment of a dying
request. Mme. la Comtesse will be at liberty to break the silence
which is imposed upon me."

At this eulogy, the Count swung his head very amiably, responded
with a tolerably involved compliment, and finally left me a free
field. We returned to the house. The bell rang, and I was invited
to dinner. As we came up to the house, a grave and silent couple,
Juliette stole a glance at us. Not a little surprised to find her
husband contriving some frivolous excuse for leaving us together,