"
"The world is not so ungrateful as you suppose; or if it be, there are,
nevertheless, a few hearts that redeem it. I can answer for the Countess
de St. Alyre, she never forgets a kindness. She does not show all she
feels; for she is unhappy, and cannot."
"Unhappy! I feared, indeed, that might be. But for all the rest that you
are good enough to suppose, it is but a flattering dream."
"I told you that I am the Countess's friend, and being so I must know
something of her character; also, there are confidences between us, and
I may know more than you think of those trifling services of which you
suppose the recollection is so transitory."
I was becoming more and more interested. I was as wicked as other young
men, and the heinousness of such a pursuit was as nothing, now that
self-love and all the passions that mingle in such a romance were
roused. The image of the beautiful Countess had now again quite
superseded the pretty counterpart of La Valliee, who was before me. I
would have given a great deal to hear, in solemn earnest, that she did
remember the champion who, for her sake, had thrown himself before the
saber of an enraged dragoon, with only a cudgel in his hand, and
conquered.
"You say the Countess is unhappy," said I. "What causes her
unhappiness?"
"Many things.
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