"Do you know, De Juvigny," he said, addressing me by the name which he always now gave me, "I have taken a sort of thirst lately to see my little Laura. She will be a good deal changed by this time since I last saw her. Did you not think," he added, in a sort of under tone, "did you not think that she was growing very like her mother?" "I think she was, my lord," I replied; "and God grant that she may have both her mother's virtues and her mother's beauty!" "Without her sorrows," said Monsieur de Villardin, in the same low tone, raising his eyes towards the sky, and adding, what from the moving of his lips I thought a prayer. "Without her sorrows," he again repeated, louder, "and, oh! without any of her father's faults." "Forgive me, my lord," I said, feeling that now was the moment, if ever, "forgive me if I do a bold thing, and attempt to offer you consolation upon your private sorrows." He shook his head with a bitter and melancholy smile, replying, "Consolation, my dear boy, is in vain. I have sought it in every source--religion--philosophy--time--activity--danger; and I have never found it. It is the alchemist's elixir of life, a specious name, which can only be believed by those who have never tried it." "Nevertheless, my lord," I persevered in saying, "I think you may find consolation in some facts which I have to tell you; especially if, as your words just now implied, a part of your grief proceeds from the memory of some faults which you imagine to have existed in your conduct towards your deceased lady." "All! all!" said the Duke; "all proceeds from those fatal memories; and I am afraid, De Juvigny, that you can in no degree assuage the burning of a heart, whose thoughts you cannot see." "Still I must entreat you to listen to me," I rejoined; "for a man can scarcely be considered guilty, for having committed actions which he was urged on to perform by the basest conspiracy to deceive him and to mislead his better judgment; and when such evidence was adduced to make him think the innocent guilty, as might well create suspicion against an angel of heaven." My words at once showed him that I had something more to communicate than mere ordinary topics of ineffectual consolation, which fall upon the dull ear, but never reach the heart; and he soon became more eager to hear than I was to tell. Turning round quickly, he paused, and gazed at me as if he would have searched my very soul, to gather at once what I was about to relate; and then exclaimed, "Speak! speak! speak, young man!" in a tone and with a manner that almost made me fear the effect which Suzette's confession might have upon his reason.