lass, bringing her a shawl, which the _demoiselle de compagnie_ hastens
to put over her shoulders. She allows it to be done with the air of one
who is accustomed to being waited upon. Mlle. Moriaz is an heiress. Why,
then, is she not married?"

Count Larinski pursued his soliloquy as long as Mlle. Moriaz promenaded
in the garden. As soon as she re-entered the hotel, it appeared to him
that the garden had become empty, and that the musicians were playing
out of tune. He closed his window. He gave up his plan of starting
the next day for Saxon. He had decided that he would set out for Saint
Moritz, to pass there at least two or three days. He said to himself,
"It seems absurd; but who can tell?"

Thereupon he proceeded to investigate the state of his finances, and he
weighed and re-weighed his purse, which was very light. Formerly Count
Larinski had possessed a very pretty collection of jewellery. He had
looked upon this as a reserve fund, to which he would have recourse only
in cases of extreme distress. Alas! there remained to him now only two
articles of his once considerable store--the bracelet that was in the
hands of M. Guldenthal, and a diamond ring that he wore on his finger.
He decided that, before quitting Chur, he would borrow money on this
ring, or that he would try to sell it.

He remained some time seated at the foot of his bed, dangling his legs
to and fro, his eyes closed. He had closed them, in order to better
call up a vision of Mlle. Moriaz, and he repeated the words: "It seems
absurd; but who can tell? The fact is, we can know nothing of a surety,
and anything may happen." Then he recalled one of Goethe's poems,
entitled "Vanitas! vanitatum vanitas!" and he recited several time in
German these two lines: