One day I had the curiosity to overhear one of their conversations. I seated myself near the cannon, where they usually sat, and, after exchanging a few words with them, I pretended to be asleep. I heard them then exchanging innocent confidences of their hopes, recalling pleasant memories of their country, encouraging each other to serve Falmouth well, this noble protector of their family, for whom they showed this respectful, almost filial, attachment that is maintained sometimes among us for several successive generations by followers of the family (in the feudal acceptation of the word)[3] for the noble houses which patronise them. When the two brothers spoke of the lord, it was always without irreverence, without envy, and, more than all, without any bitter and jealous reflection upon their own obscure and poor condition. Once they related some particulars in the life of Falmouth which struck me with surprise. This man, whom I had believed so blasé as to all human feelings, had a thousand times manifested the most generous kindness, the most exquisite delicacy. Williams and Geordy spoke of it with admiration. In proportion as I lived more intimately with Henry, my surprise increased. Each day I discovered in him the noblest qualities, so opposite to the fictitious or real character under which I had known him before. His disposition was of a serenity without its equal; his penetration, his ingenuity, prodigious; his mind of a rare dignity. Soon, in our long conversations, I noticed that his irony became less sharp, his observation less caustic, his scepticism less implacable; it might be said that little by little he put off pieces of armour which he recognised as useless. It was with pleasure that I saw Falmouth's character so completely transformed. I felt touched by the cordial and touching persistency with which he sought my friendship. I enjoyed eagerly this lively and sincere feeling, whose consoling sweetness I experienced for the first time; no sacrifice could be too great to assure myself of this precious affection in the future, and as I experienced it generously, bravely, I felt worthy to inspire it. Pleased with my confidence, it was with a tone of deepest gratitude that Falmouth thanked me for having believed in his friendship. In this way passing our life, the one well supported by the other, he told me, all one's troubles could be defied; for the deceits of love, of pride, of ambition, always so painful because they are self-centred, would lose all their bitterness by being poured out into the heart of a friend. The accents of his voice were so true, his features had an expression of such sincerity, that I had entirely forgotten my mistrust; I yielded with happiness to the impulse of an affection which I had never known before.