"I think so; I have every reason to praise her zeal and her fidelity." "And I think that she should congratulate herself on being in your service. She must be very happy here; and yet, I have noticed of late that she seems to be profoundly sad and depressed. A smile never appears on her lips. Have not you noticed it, madame?" "Pardon me, monsieur; but as I know the cause of her melancholy, I overlook it." "Ah! you know the cause of it?" "Indeed, it is not difficult to guess: an unfortunate love affair; the man she loves has disappeared!" "Very good; I see that you know your maid's secrets." "The poor girl is alone in this country, without kindred or friends. Why should I not be interested in her?" "You should, of course; and then, women are always compassionate for troubles of the heart.--Well, madame, I go, with regret; take care of your health." "He has suspicions!" said Valentine to herself, when the marquis had gone; "but what does it matter? I know the way to dispel them." As the clock struck nine, a man enveloped in an ample cloak, and wearing a hat whose broad brim concealed a large part of his face, knocked at the gate of the hôtel. He gave the Cerberus the name of Miretta, and was admitted; he crossed the courtyard and found on the right hand the narrow staircase, which he was about to venture upon although it was not lighted, when a small hand seized his and a voice said: "Allow me to guide you, seigneur." Léodgard abandoned his hand; the one that held it was cold and trembling. They went up two flights; a lamp stood in a corner of the second landing, and the count recognized Miretta in the person who had served as his guide. She instantly dropped the hand she held, as if she were glad to escape at last from a painful necessity. Taking the lamp, she walked ahead; and Léodgard was soon ushered into a dimly lighted room, where he saw the marchioness. Valentine was seated on a sofa; her costume was entirely black, and imparted a certain solemnity to her noble and majestic figure. At sight of Léodgard she carefully repressed a thrill of joy which sought expression in her eyes, and tried to replace by a pleasant smile the gleam of triumph which passed over her face. The count bowed low before her, and seated himself on a chair very near the sofa. He seized her hand before she gave him permission, and covered it with kisses; while incoherent words, which, however, accurately depicted his love and the perturbation of his senses, poured rapidly from his lips. But, happening to glance toward the end of the room, he saw Miretta sitting there, with her head sunk upon her breast, motionless as a statue. Thereupon Léodgard's flow of words ceased, and, looking at Valentine, he asked her in an undertone: "What is your maid doing here, pray?" "Nothing; she is awaiting my orders." "Do you not propose to order her to leave the room?" "No, indeed! on the contrary, I told her to remain."