"We then wished each other good-night; I slept, but Theodore did not spend the night so calmly. I found him in the morning so altered in appearance by the sufferings of the past night, that I did not venture to resume our conversation of the preceding evening. We turned to our studies and exercises; and in the evening we found ourselves as usual in the midst of our little society. He was bantered a little on account of his wandering thoughts; he pleaded headache, and begged that they would be so good as to excuse his not taking a part in the amusements. During the evening, he watched the eyes of Mariana and the Count; he imagined that he discovered a certain love-understanding between them, and this drove him to utter despair. We retired; and as we entered our room, he said, 'Well, do you still doubt the love which Mariana and the Count cherish for each other? They have interchanged a hundred loving looks; he whispered in her ear, too, as we came away; my misery is too certain.' 'I have not observed all this,' I replied; 'jealousy has perhaps exaggerated and distorted the most trivial occurrences.' "Two or three days passed, during which our conversation frequently turned to the same subject. Our professor gave us and some others a party in his garden on the anniversary of Mariana's christening-day. The Count, having been informed of the occasion of the party, had presented Mariana in the morning with a bouquet and a costly diamond pin. It needed nothing more to put Theodore beside himself; he fell into a melancholy silence, and ate hardly anything; the headache had again to come to his help; we rose from the table, and, after some promenading, the ball began. The Count opened it with Mariana, who of course was the queen of the ball. Theodore would not dance, but walked about the garden the whole night. The ball lasted till morning, when we returned home. "I went straight to my room; my comrade had remained in the court below, and when he met his rival had compelled him to draw. I heard the clash of swords, and ran down with all speed, but came too late; he had already given his adversary a mortal wound, and escaped through the back-door. You may conceive the grief and confusion which this deed occasioned in the whole house. The poor Count was carried to his bed, where he expired two hours after. Neither I nor any of his friends could learn whither Theodore had gone; and we should never have discovered it but for the letter which he wrote us from Corsica a few months ago."