the rent. 'Leave the city,' said I. 'Good gracious!
and so suddenly? And where are you going, if I may ask?' For I thought,
after all the police will make a descent upon me, the secret, the crime
she has committed is now discovered, and she wants to get away that she
may not be caught napping. But then--she looked so haughty and
composed, and did not address a single word to me more than was
absolutely necessary, and yet I'm the landlady. As she went away in the
midst of the quarter, it was fair, she said, that she should pay for
the full three months--though she'd not been here quite four weeks--and
counted out thirty-six thalers on the table. I could consider it so
much profit. For everything else--though, dear me, she'd given me no
trouble at all--she laid three louis d'ors on the table, and the maid
too had her full quarter's wages and a handsome present. Then she went
to the birds--the parrot belonged to the count--opened the door of the
cage, fed them, and said: 'You'll let them go free,' and with a
flashing glance and a nod of the head went down stairs to the droschky
Jean had been sent to fetch, and on which her trunk was already
strapped. She took the boy with her, but to what depot she ordered the
man to drive--neither I nor the maid could hear. Mercy, what will the
count say when he comes back, for I promised I would keep her for him,
and he said 'you shall not lose by it, Madame Sturgmueller.' His servant
was here yesterday, 'How had the young lady behaved?' he asked. 'Who
was that gentleman with her'--he meant you. Well, I said no more than I
knew--that you only came to dine and always seemed very quiet and
brought her books. Then he laughed. 'They're probably studying
something very beautiful, Madame, and if I tell my master, the
count--' 'Well,' said I, 'why does he leave her all alone? Such a young
thing--idleness is the beginning of all love affairs.' But he shook his
head and wanted to know nothing about it. Now, tell me, my dear sir,
what does all this mean? Merciful God, if I should be obliged to go
before a jury after all--"

Edwin, in spite of his sadness, could not help smiling. He denied all
knowledge of Toinette's movements, and his evident alarm at not finding
her, proved his sincerity. He had never inquired into her
circumstances, and where she had so suddenly vanished was as
incomprehensible to him as to the landlady. He walked, the woman
constantly talking to him, through all the pleasant r