, I like you more than anybody. I wish to be, I am,
your friend. Here is some cursed _contretemps_. There is a mystery,
and both of you are victims of it. Tell me everything. I will put you
right.'

'Ah! my dear Mirabel, it is past even your skill. I thought I could
never speak on these things to human being, but I am attracted to you by
the same sympathy which you flatter me by expressing for myself. I want
a confidant, I need a friend; I am most wretched.'

'_Eh! bien!_ we will not go to the French play. As for Jenny Vertpre,
we can sup with her any night. Come to my house, and we will talk over
everything. But trust me, if you wish to marry Henrietta Temple, you are
an idiot if you do not have her.'

So saying, the Count touched his bright horse, and in a few minutes
the cabriolet stopped before a small but admirably appointed house in
Berkeley-square.

'Now, _mon cher,_' said the Count, 'coffee and confidence.'

CHAPTER XV.

_In Which the Count Mirabel Commences His Operations with
Great Success_.

IS THERE a more gay and graceful spectacle in the world than Hyde Park,
at the end of a long sunny morning in the merry months of May and June?
Where can we see such beautiful women, such gallant cavaliers, such fine
horses, and such brilliant equipages? The scene, too, is worthy of
such agreeable accessories: the groves, the gleaming waters, and the
triumphal arches. In the distance, the misty heights of Surrey, and the
bowery glades of Kensington.

It was the day after the memorable voyage from Richmond. Eminent among
the glittering throng, Count Mirabel cantered along on his Arabian,
scattering gay recognitions and bright words. He reined in his steed
beneath a tree, under whose shade was assembled a knot of listless
cavaliers. The Count received their congratulations, for this morning he
had won his pigeon match.

'Only think of that old fool, Castlefyshe, betting on Poppington,' said
the Count. 'I want to see him, old idiot! Who knows where Charley is?'

'I do, Mirabel,' said Lord Catchimwhocan. 'He has gone to Richmond with
Blandford and the two little Furzlers.'

'That good Blandford! Whenever he is in love he always gives a dinner.
It is a droll way to succeed.'

'Apropos, will you dine with me to-day, Mirabel?' said Mr. de
Stockville.

'Impossible, my dear fellow; I dine with Fitz-warrene.'

'I say, Mirabel,' drawled out a young man, 'I saw you yesterday driving
a man down to R