One day, as I sat in the library, I saw my master come home, accompanied
by two gentlemen. He did not, as was his custom with his intimates,
bring them into the library, but received them in the little used
reception-room. They remained some time.

When they left, my master came into the library, rubbing his hands and
looking exceedingly well-pleased. But at sight of me, his countenance
fell. He approached me, and in a tone of regret, said:

'My poor Eugene! we must part.'

Part? It seemed as if the sun was suddenly blotted from the heavens.

I started up, and looked at him with a face so white and terror-stricken
that he came up to me and laid his hand kindly on my shoulder.

'My poor Eugene!' he repeated, 'it is too true--we must part.'

I tried to speak. 'Part!' I cried. 'O my master--'

Tears and sobs choked my utterance, in spite of all my efforts to
restrain them. I sat down again, and gave free vent to my irrepressible
grief.

My master was much affected by the sight of my emotion; and for some
minutes the silence was unbroken, save by my heart-wrung sobs.

'Nay, Eugene, this is womanish; bear it like a man,' said he, wiping the
tears from his own eyes. 'Most gladly would I spare you this sorrow;