contrary; when he came
back at last in his twentieth year, without Mr. Leclerc, who had died
in Russia of the climate, the very first word he spoke: 'Flor,' says
he, 'and how is Miss Mimi?'--That was a cat I had, Sir, of whom he used
to be almost jealous, as a child.

"'Returns thanks for kind enquiries. Master Ernest,' I said; 'she has
just kittened, and will be delighted, as we all are, to see your honour
back again.'

"'I am afraid it is a delight that won't last long, Flor,' he said; and
at night, when I was lighting him to bed, as I always did, he told me
all about it; how he had done his father's bidding, and been to see the
great world, and he had seen enough of it to find it terribly tedious;
and now he had had some trouble in carrying his point, which was to go
and study alone for a year or two. 'It was a shame,' he said, 'the
confusion that was in his brain.' I could only stare at this, for to me
he seemed a man in all things, and cleverer, I thought, it was not
possible to be, when I heard him talk with others. But he knew best, of
course, and I did not contradict him then; for there were other things
I was more curious to know. I asked him about the life he had been
leading, and whether the fine ladies he had been dancing with, were
handsomer than the daughters of our townspeople? And look you, Sir, at
this, he turned as red as a boy;--he, the accomplished fine-grown
gentleman, who had just come from living among the fine folks;--and he
only said: 'Some perhaps, not many;' and so I saw that old love does
not always rust. The very next day he rode over to the town; I suppose
to make enquiries, and find out whether she were still unmarried. Of
course, I did not know, for I had never heard who she was. When he came
back, in the evening, he looked very grave. 'It is all over,' I said to
myself, 'and all the better that it is so; what could have ever come of
it?'

"Between him and his father things were no better than they used to be.
When I helped to wait at table, I saw that the count was always ready
for a quarrel with his son, who could never say or do a single thing to
please him. He seemed provoked to be, in a manner, forced to respect
the lad, who never by any chance forgot himself, but only quietly
defended his own opinion, or held his tongue. Just as the blessed
countess had always done, and the count was not fond of being reminded
of her. Nothing would have pleased him better than to see his son just