known as so brilliant and so successful. “One morning at the beginning of December 1824, he looked up at Ernest, who sat at the foot of his bed gazing at his father with wistful eyes. “‘Are you in pain?’ the little Vicomte asked. “‘No,’ said the Count, with a ghastly smile, ‘it all lies _here and about my heart_!’ “He pointed to his forehead, and then laid his wasted fingers on his hollow chest. Ernest began to cry at the sight. “‘How is it that M. Derville does not come to me?’ the Count asked his servant (he thought that Maurice was really attached to him, but the man was entirely in the Countess’ interest)--‘What! Maurice!’ and the dying man suddenly sat upright in his bed, and seemed to recover all his presence of mind, ‘I have sent for my attorney seven or eight times during the last fortnight, and he does not come!’ he cried. ‘Do you imagine that I am to be trifled with? Go for him, at once, this very instant, and bring him back with you. If you do not carry out my orders, I shall get up and go myself.’ “‘Madame,’ said the man as he came into the salon, ‘you heard M. le Comte; what ought I to do?’ “‘Pretend to go to the attorney, and when you come back tell your master that his man of business is forty leagues away from Paris on an important lawsuit. Say that he is expected back at the end of the week.--Sick people never know how ill they are,’ thought the Countess; ‘he will wait till the man comes home.’ “The doctor had said on the previous evening that the Count could scarcely live through the day. When the servant came back two hours later to give that hopeless answer, the dying man seemed to be greatly agitated. “‘Oh God!’ he cried again and again, ‘I put my trust in none but Thee.’ “For a long while he lay and gazed at his son, and spoke in a feeble voice at last. “‘Ernest, my boy, you are very young; but you have a good heart; you can understand, no doubt, that a promise given to a dying man is sacred; a promise to a father... Do you feel that you can be trusted with a secret, and keep it so well and so closely that even your mother herself shall not know that you have a secret to keep? There is no one else in this house whom I can trust to-day. You will not betray my trust, will you?’ “‘No, father.’ “‘Very well, then, Ernest, in a minute or two I will give you a sealed packet that belongs to M. Derville; you must take such care of it that no one can know that you have it; then you must slip out of the house and put the letter into the post-box at the corner.’ “‘Yes, father.’ “‘Can I depend upon you?’ “‘Yes, father.’ “‘Come and kiss me. You have made death less bitter to me, dear boy. In six or seven years’ time you will understand the importance of this secret, and you will be well rewarded then for your quickness and obedience, you will know then how much I love you. Leave me alone for a minute, and let no one--no matter whom--come in meanwhile.’ “Ernest went out and saw his mother standing in the next room.