When the Count saw that I wasn't to be scared away, he jest give me a good long stare right in the eyes, and then bending a little for'ard to Miss Miles, he lifted his hat about an inch from his head and went into the Astor House. I don't know what on arth could be the matter, but the minit he left us I begun to feel as sheepish as could be. I didn't know what in nature to talk about--so I jest took my red silk handkercher and gave it a flirt out of my pocket, and then put it back agin. "Do you like the smell of essence of peppermint, Miss Miles?" sez I. "I'm very fond of perfume," sez she. "I hope you didn't like the stuff that are Count had on his handkercher," sez I. "I swanny, it eenamost made me sick; he smelt more like a musk-rat than anything else." "You can't expect every body to have _your_ taste in selecting perfumes for his toilet, Mr. Slick," sez she, a puckering up her mouth till it looked like a red clover top full of honey. "I swow, Miss Miles, you look as harnsome as a full blown rose this morning," sez I; "it aint a mite of wonder that I couldn't sleep a bit last night." With that I jest took a good squint at her as we went along, for I couldn't think what to say next. I don't believe the things she had on cost one cent less than fifty dollars, enough to rig out all the gals in Weathersfield with boughten finery; her cloak was the queerest thing I ever did see; it only reached jest down to her knees, and was made out of rale silk velvet. I know it was silk, for I jest slipped off my yaller glove, and felt on it to be sartin, as we walked along. It was kinder purply, like the damsons that grow in our corn lot, and was loaded down with some kind of long fur. Under that she wore another dress of black silk velvet, that shone in the sun like a crow's back. The cloak had great open sleeves, edged with fur, a hanging round her arms; and I could see the corner of a hankercher a sticking out from the eend of her little black muff jest enough to show how harnsomely it was figger'd off; a bunch of red flowers was stuck agin each side of her face under her bonnet, and her eyes looked bright, and her cheeks rosy enough to make a feller catch his breath. The more I looked at her, the more uneasy I got about that Count. I wanted to say something to her about him dreadfully, but some how I didn't know what to say first. I took out my hankercher agin, and then I wiped my nose and put it back; then I begun to examine the fingers of my yaller gloves, to see how they stood the weather. Finally, I lost step, and it took me three minits to get the right hitch agin; at last I bust right out, and, sez I-- "Now, Miss Miles, between you and I and the post, jest tell me do you raly care anything about that are Count?" She turned her roguish black eyes to my face, and, sez she, "Why, Mr. Slick, how can you ask sich a question?" "Now that's Yankee all over," sez I, "you aint told me yet: only asked me another question to match mine."