her care,
and shewed her a bosom which proved her fruitfulness. This offer was made
at the foot of the stairs, and the countess accepted it with charming
grace and dignity. It was a delightful episode, which chance had willed
should adorn the entertainment I had invented. Everybody seemed happy,
but I was the happiest of all. Happiness is purely a creature of the
imagination. If you wish to be happy fancy that you are so, though I
confess that circumstances favourable to this state are often beyond our
control. On the other hand, unfavourable circumstances are mostly the
result of our own mistakes.

The countess took my arm, and we led the way into my room which I found
exquisitely neat and clean. As I had expected, Zenobia was there, but I
was surprised to see Croce's mistress, looking very pretty; however, I
pretended not to know her. She was well dressed, and her face, free from
the sadness it had borne before, was so seductive in its beauty, that I
felt vexed at her appearance at that particular moment.

"Here are two pretty girls," said the countess. "Who are you, pray?"

"We are the chevalier's humble servants," said Zenobia, "and we are here
only to wait on you."

Zenobia had taken it on herself to bring her lodger, who began to speak
Italian, and looked at me in doubt, fearing that I was displeased at her
presence. I had to reassure her by saying I was very glad she had come
with Zenobia. These words were as balm to her heart; she smiled again,
and became more beautiful than ever. I felt certain that she would not
remain unhappy long; it was impossible to behold her without one's
interest being excited in her favour. A bill signed by the Graces can
never be protested; anyone with eyes and a heart honours it at sight.

My humble servants took the ladies' cloaks and followed them into the
bedroom, where the three dresses were laid out on a table. I only knew
the white satin and lace, for that was the only one I had designed. The
countess, who walked before her sisters, was the first to notice it, and
exclaimed,--

"What a lovely dress! To whom does it belong, M. de Seingalt? You ought
to know."

"Certainly. It belongs to your husband who can do what he likes with it,
and I hope, if he gives it you, you will take it. Take it, count; it is
yours; and if you refuse I will positively kill myself."

"We love you too well to drive you to an act of despair. The idea is
worthy of your nobility of heart. I take y