"For three days," said the Prince, "I have not felt well. Too long a walk for a person of my age, and some important affairs have fatigued both my body and mind. I therefore determined to pass this evening calmly and quietly with you--with my family. I do not," said he, speaking to Henri, "expect it will be gay, but we cannot make a holiday all the time. We must sometimes be calm, and reflect. You, my daughter," said he to Aminta, "may be sure I will do all I can to aid you. I know you like to hear my old stories, but if you did not, and it were unpleasant to you, you would bear with me. I am about to tell you a long one." The Marquis and the Marquise listened to the Prince with surprise. The tone of this preamble seemed to them so foreign to the ordinary language and habits of the Prince, that they began to see something stranger even than the piquant anecdotes and traditions he delighted in narrating. "This story is a revelation of a story I long doubted whether or not I should confide to you. Its avowal cannot but be painful to me, and a man does not like to blush before his children." "Why do so, then, my father?" said Henri. "Because I wish to, monsieur," said the Prince sternly. "Because in the course of his life man must suffer, when its suffering is good in its effects, because thereby he may punish evil, and do his duty." The young couple looked at the Prince with terror, for his brow was moody, and on his lips--across which irony, gayety, and sarcasm so often played--there were now the marks of anger, menace, and indignation.