“We are alone here,” said she, hurriedly, “and we may be missed; so let me be brief. It will seem strange that I should ask you to meet me here, but I could not help it. You alone, of all who frequent this, have never paid me the least attention, nor seemed disposed to flatter me; this leads me to trust you. I have no other reason but that, and because I am friendless.” There was a tremulous sadness in the last word which went to my heart, and I could mark that her breathing was hurried and irregular for some few seconds after. “Will you promise me your friendship in what I ask? or, if that be too much, will you pledge yourself at least to secrecy? Enough, I am quite satisfied. Now, tell me, who is this Chevalier Duchesne?--what is he?” I ran over in a few words all I knew of him, dwelling on whatever might most redound to his credit; his distinguished military career, his undoubted talent, and, lastly, alluding to his family, to which I conceived the question might most probably apply. “Oh, it is not that,” said she, vehemently, “I wish to know. I care not for his bravery, nor his birth either. Tell me, what are the sources of his power? How is he admitted everywhere, intimate with every one, with influence over all? Why does Fouché fear, and Talleyrand admit him? I know they do this; and can you give me no clew, however faint, to guide me? The Comte de Lacostellerie was refused the Spanish contract; Duchesne interferes, and it is given him. There is a difficulty about a card for a private concert at St. Cloud; Duchesne sends it. Nor does it end here. _You_ know”--here her voice assumed a forced distinctness, as though it cost her an effort to speak calmly--“of his duel with the Prince Dobretski; but perhaps you may not know how he has obtained an imperial order for his recall to St. Petersburg?” “Of that I never heard. Can it be possible?” “Have you, then, never tasted of his arbitrary power,” said she, smiling half superciliously, “that these things seem strange to you? or does he work so secretly that even those most intimate with him are in ignorance? But this must be so.” She paused for a second or two, and then went on: “And now, brief as our acquaintance with him has been, see what influence he already possesses over my mother! Even to her I dare not whisper my suspicions; while to you, a stranger,” added she, with emotion, “I must speak my fears.” “But are they not groundless?” said I, endeavoring to calm the agitation she suffered from. “In all that you have mentioned, I can but trace the devotion of one seeking to serve, not injure; to be loved, not dreaded.” Scarce had I said these words, when I heard a noise behind me, and before I could turn round, Duchesne stood beside us. “I implore your pardon, Mademoiselle,” said he, in a voice of well-affected timidity, “nor should I venture to interrupt so interesting a conference, but that the Comtesse de Lacostellerie had sent me to look for you.”