ove looked as if she wished to go, yet fain would stay; but
as I behaved discreetly, she remained. A cold wind began to blow, and
she had only a slight silk handkerchief round her neck.

"Why don't you put on a warmer handkerchief?" I asked. "You might
catch cold and die."

"It would be no great pity," said the poor child, sadly; "I would go
to a good place, I hope, and nobody would miss me."

"Oh! do not say that, unless you wish to break my heart (here my voice
was somewhat choked)! You must live a long time yet, dearest Esztike;
for if you die, I shall soon know how deep the Danube runs!"

And then I hastened away; and when I reached home, I found that my
cheeks were wet, and that I was sobbing like a child. Ay, the heart of
man makes him a strange animal!

* * * * *

For some time I had no occasion to fear my uncle's dogs, knowing that
Mistress Debora would not set them at me; but I generally watched till
the good man went out to wage war on the hares, and then I hastened to
our neighbour's with all the information I had collected as to the
murderer of the cat--describing, from his cap to his slippers, a being
very unlike myself, and whose supposed existence nearly turned
Mistress Debora's head.

But this could not continue very long; and my aunt at last began to
forget her pet's untimely end, and no longer received her dear nephew
so graciously as before.

After a lapse of some days, I called on pretext of speaking to my
uncle (I had watched till I had seen him go out, with gun and dogs);
and after poignant regrets at not finding him at home, I asked
Mistress Debora if she had heard what had happened in the village. As
nothing had happened, she naturally had not heard, and therefore was
the more curious to know; and I accordingly proceeded to repeat all
the gossip I had collected from some old gazettes with as much
eloquence as I could--and (Heaven forgive me!) I fear, as much
invention--till the old lady was ready to drop off her seat at my
histories. She would listen for hours; and though I dared not speak to
Esztike, we had frequent opportunities of exchanging sighs, and our
eyes carried on most interesting dialogues together.

On one pretext or other I was honourably received for some time, and
even allowed to bring Esztike books, which I had borrowed from a
cousin in the village. True, they were only German books; but what
could I do? Had I brought such unholy things i