‘You have not deceived yourself,’ was my reply, while I puzzled my brain to think how I could repay such proofs of his trust. ‘Is there, then, anything more,’ said I--‘can you think of nothing else in which I may be of service?’ ‘Nothing, dear friend, nothing,’ said he. ‘Probably we shall meet at St. Petersburg.’ ‘Yes, yes,’ said I; ‘that is my firm intention.’ ‘That’s all I could wish for,’ rejoined he. ‘The grand-duke will be delighted to acknowledge the assistance your friendship has rendered us, and Potoski’s house will be your own.’ So saying, he embraced me most affectionately, and departed; while I sat to muse over the singularity of my position, and to wonder if any other man was ever similarly situated. When I proceeded to pay my respects to the countess the next morning, I prepared myself to witness a state of great sorrow and depression. How pleasantly was I disappointed at finding her gay--perhaps gayer than ever--and evidently enjoying the success of the count’s scheme! ‘Gustav is at St. Tron by this,’ said she, looking at the map; ‘he ‘ll reach Liege two hours before the post; fresh horses will then bring him rapidly to Battiste. Oh, here are the papers; let us see the way his departure is announced.’ She turned over one journal after another without finding the wished-for paragraph, until at last, in the corner of the _Handelsblad_, she came upon the following:-- ‘Yesterday morning an express reached the minister for the home affairs that the celebrated _escroc_, the Chevalier Duguet, whose famous forgery on the Neapolitan bank may be in the memory of our readers, was actually practising his art under a feigned name in Brussels, where, having obtained his _entrée_ among some respectable families of the lower town, he has succeeded in obtaining large sums of money under various pretences. His skill at play is, they say, the least of his many accomplishments.’ She threw down the paper in a fit of laughter at these words, and called out, ‘Is it not too absurd? That’s Gustav’s doing; anything for a quiz, no matter what. He once got himself and Prince Carl of Prussia brought up before the police for hooting the king.’ ‘But Duguet,’ said I--‘what has he to do with Duguet?’ ‘Don’t you see that’s a feigned name,’ replied she--‘assumed by him as if he had half-a-dozen such? Read on, and you’ll learn it all.’ I took the paper, and continued where she ceased reading-- ‘This Duguet is then, it would appear, identical with a very well-known Polish Count Czaroviski, who with his lady had been passing some weeks at the Hôtel de France. The police have, however, received his _signalement_, and are on his track.’ ‘But why, in Heaven’s name, should he spread such an odious calumny on himself?’ said I.