searches which were made for his body in the river; but others more wildly contended--as he had taken a road which might, perhaps, have led him to the forest--that he had been murdered by the robbers who had so lately attacked and slain one of the royal couriers, with the three soldiers by whom he had been attended. New perquisitions were made in the forest. The whole country round about was searched without effect. Rumours, astonishment, exaggeration, and a thousand falsehoods and absurdities filled up the next six weeks, and then the whole gradually faded away, till the nine days' wonder was at an end, and the death of the young Count de Mesnil became a story to frighten children. During the six weeks, however, that the fruitless investigations continued, gloom and darkness reigned over our dwelling. Deep and painful were evidently the feelings of the Duke de Villardin in regard to this event; and a thousand times, I am sure, did he regret that he had not pursued the usual mode of arranging such encounters, which would, at least, have spared him every accessary circumstance that now tormented him from day to day. As a friend of the dead nobleman, he was frequently consulted upon his affairs, and even in regard to the search for his body; and every one thought that they were speaking upon a subject which must interest him, when they detailed to his ears any of the numerous absurdities that were current in the country concerning the death of the Count. All this was very terrible; but, besides all this, there were feelings in the heart of Monsieur de Villardin which aggravated the regrets consequent upon the deed which he had committed. He had known the young Count de Mesnil as a boy. He had known and loved his parents. He had seen him grow up their hope and joy. He had himself anticipated great things from his early promise, and yet his had been the hand thus early to lay him low in a bloody and an unknown grave. Though sometimes he spoke to me upon the subject when we were perfectly alone, it was more from various little points in his conduct than from his own words that I discovered these feelings. So far from ever going near the spot where the death of the Count de Mesnil had taken place, he never even, when he could avoid it, rode in that direction, as if the very wind which blew from the grave wafted fresh reproaches to his heart. Even in riding to Rennes, the road to which city passed within half a mile of the spot, if he could possibly devise any excuse for so doing, he would take the most circuitous path, to avoid even coming in its neighbourhood.