Polina had made a great impression upon him, although he never
spoke of her. But now, strangely enough, he had no sooner seated
himself and bent his steely gaze upon me, than, for some reason
or another, I felt moved to tell him everything--to speak to him
of my love in all its phases. For an hour and a half did I
discourse on the subject, and found it a pleasure to do so, even
though this was the first occasion on which I had referred to
the matter. Indeed, when, at certain moments, I perceived that
my more ardent passages confused him, I purposely increased my
ardour of narration. Yet one thing I regret: and that is that I
made references to the Frenchman which were a little
over-personal.

Mr. Astley sat without moving as he listened to me. Not a word
nor a sound of any kind did he utter as he stared into my eyes.
Suddenly, however, on my mentioning the Frenchman, he
interrupted me, and inquired sternly whether I did right to
speak of an extraneous matter (he had always been a strange man
in his mode of propounding questions).

"No, I fear not," I replied.

"And concerning this Marquis and Mlle. Polina you know nothing
beyond surmise?"

Again I was surprised that such a categorical question should
come from such a reserved individual.

"No, I know nothing FOR CERTAIN about them" was my reply.
"No--nothing."