carin is right,"
thought the doctor. "I trust, madame," continued he, "that I too may
laugh at my own imaginary fears; but whatever may be the result, permit
me to remind you that a little time back you said that a doctor was a
father confessor; for, like a priest, the physician only hears secrets
in order to forget them. He is also more fitted to console and advise,
for, as his profession brings him into contact with the frailties and
passions of the world, he can comprehend and excuse."

"And you must not forget, doctor, that like the priest also, he preaches
very long sermons."

As she uttered this sarcasm, there was a jesting look upon her features,
but it elicited no smile from Hortebise, who, as he proceeded, grew more
grave.

"I may be foolish," he said; "but I had better be that than reopen some
old wound."

"Do not be afraid, doctor; speak out."

"Then, I will begin by asking if you have any remembrance of a young man
in your own sphere of society, who, at the time of your marriage,
was well known in every Parisian _salon_. I speak of the Marquis de
Croisenois."

The Countess leaned back in her chair, and contracted her brow, and
pursed up her lips, as though vainly endeavoring to remember the name.

"The Marquis de Croisenois?" repeated she. "It seems as if----no--wait a
moment. No; I cannot say that I can call any such person to mind."

The doctor felt that he must give the spur to this rebellious memory.

"Yes, Croisenois," he repeated. "His Christian name was George, and he
had a brother Henry, whom you certainly must know, for this winter I saw
him at the Duchess de Laumeuse's, dancing with your daughter."

"You are right; I remember the name now."

Her manner was indifferent and careless as she said this.

"Then perhaps you also recollect that some twenty-three years ago,
George de Croisenois vanished suddenly. This disappearance caused a
terrible commotion at the time, and was one of the chief topics of
society."

"Ah! indeed?" mused the Countess.

"He was last seen at the Cafe de Paris, where he dined with some
friends. About nine he got up to leave. One of his friends proposed to
go with him, but he begged him not to do so, saying, 'Perhaps I shall
see you later on at the opera, but do not count on me.' The general
impression was that he was going to some love tryst."

"His friends thought that, I suppose."

"Yes, for he was attired with more care than usual, though he was always
o