twenty; she forgave me. And as I was twenty, as I was always
ingenuous, always deceived, but never again thrown over by her, I
believed myself to have been the best beloved of lovers, consequently
the happiest of men. The countess had a friend, Madame de T-----, who
seemed to have some designs on me, but without compromising her
dignity; for she was scrupulous and respected the proprieties. One day
while I was waiting for the countess in her Opera box, I heard my name
called from a contiguous box. It was Madame de T-----.

"What," she said, "already here? Is this fidelity or merely a want of
something to do? Won't you come to me?"

Her voice and her manner had a meaning in them, but I was far from
inclined at that moment to indulge in a romance.

"Have you any plans for this evening?" she said to me. "Don't make
any! If I cheer your tedious solitude you ought to be devoted to me.
Don't ask any questions, but obey. Call my servants."

I answered with a bow and on being requested to leave the Opera box, I
obeyed.

"Go to this gentleman's house," she said to the lackey. "Say he will
not be home till to-morrow."

She made a sign to him, he went to her, she whispered in his ear, and
he left us. The Opera began. I tried to venture on a few words, but
she silenced me; some one might be listening. The first act ended, the
lackey brought back a note, and told her that everything was ready.
Then she smiled, asked for my hand, took me off, put me in her