“Lieutenant, I sent for you to confide in you a secret,” she said, throwing an anxious glance around. “I am all attention, your Highness, and you may trust me,” I answered. “The count starts to-morrow for Livorno. Did you know it?” “Yes,” I answered. “You see, there has been a quarrel there, and a fight between some English and Russian sailors, and the count wishes to invite his friend, the English consul, a Mr. Dickson, to settle the matter.” “Well! what about that?” I said. “That’s nothing important; it will soon be arranged, and the count will return.” “He has asked me to go with him.… What if I refuse? If I don’t accompany him? What do you think? He’ll not desert me, as all the others have done, and disappear for ever?” “Oh! but why not go?” answered I, following the idea of the count. “It’s a simple promenade. Why not accompany the count? The weather is splendid. It could only be a pleasure trip for you both.” “Yes,” she answered thoughtfully, “I should very much like to see the town and your fleet; the count praises his sailors so highly.” “Well, and what is there to prevent your going?” I said thoughtfully. “Yes,” I said to myself, “it would seem that the count is very persistent. He won’t leave her alone for a single instant.” “Ah! yes! I was forgetting,” said the Princess, as though collecting her thoughts. Looking at her, I could see that her eyes were full of tears, her lips trembling, and that, though looking at me, she seemed not to see me. “Listen!” she said reluctantly. “You’re an honest man.… The count has made me an offer of marriage--has proposed to me. What do you think of it?” I rose respectfully. “Allow me to congratulate you from the bottom of my heart,” I said earnestly, bowing. “Your merit has triumphed over everything. But there is nothing wonderful in that.” “But will he not deceive me? Will he not betray me?” whispered the Princess, again glancing around. Her very lips were blanched; she was quite beside herself. “Tell me the whole truth, I implore you! You see, following his advice, I carry no arms upon me; it offends him.…” It flashed through my mind that just during this very journey the count might persuade her to marry him. “But, your Highness,” said I, and those fatal words burn now in my brain like letters of fire, “what do you fear? The count is madly in love with you, that I know surely. He sleeps but to see you in his dreams; even, he wanted to fly away with you.” “Then it is the truth? Swear by the memory of your mother, of your father,” said she, squeezing my hand with all her might. “In the name of God, it is true! I heard it from his own lips. He honoured me with his confidence. Besides, what am I in his eyes? Nothing; the meanest servant, the merest cipher, … and yet he told even me openly.…”