in low discourse, I could not detect the
words they uttered. It was evident that some proposition was to be
made to me, the rejection of which on my part might involve me in the
greatest peril. With what straining ingenuity did I endeavor to divine
what this might be! In all likelihood, it referred to some political
intrigue, for which my character as a "secret agent" might seem to adapt
me. Yet some of the expressions they had let drop by no means favored
this interpretation. What could my "mongrel nationality," as the Count
styled it, avail me in such a conjuncture?

As these thoughts were chasing each other through my mind, I was
threading my way through the salons, and at length, to my sincere
satisfaction, found myself in the open street. By the time I reached
the hotel I had made up my mind to start at once on my mission, without
waiting for the Count's arrival. I hastily scratched a few lines
of commonplace acknowledgment for his attentions to me, and
half-significantly adding that I hoped to express them personally when
we met again, wished him a "good journey," and then set out on my own.

During the rest of that night, and, indeed, for a great part of the
following day, I did not feel satisfied with myself for what I had done.
It was, indeed, an inglorious mode of escaping from a difficulty,
and argued more of fear than resolution. As time wore on, however, I
reasoned myself into the notion that against secret treachery, courage
and firmness avail little, and if a well-planned scheme was about to
environ me, I had done the wisest thing in the emergency.

I suppose the experience of others will bear me out in saying that the
actual positive ills of life are more easily endured than the vague and
shadowy dangers which seem to hover over the future, and darken the road
before us. The calamities that lie in ambush for us are ever present to
our thoughts. The hour of our misfortune may be to-day, to-morrow, or
the day after. Every chance incident of untoward aspect may herald the
bad tidings, and we live in unceasing expectancy of evil. Do what I
would, a dreary and despondent gloom now settled on me; I felt as if
I were predestined to some grievous misfortune, against which I was
utterly powerless, and the hour of which I could neither hasten nor
retard. How bitterly I reproached myself for making an acquaintance with
the Count! For years I had lived a life of solitary seclusion, avoiding
even the commonest form