"You desire to quarrel, Madame!" And the old man, I presume, shut down
the window. Down it went, at all events, with a rattle that might easily
have broken the glass.

Of all thin partitions, glass is the most effectual excluder of sound. I
heard no more, not even the subdued hum of the colloquy.

What a charming voice this Countess had! How it melted, swelled, and
trembled! How it moved, and even agitated me! What a pity that a hoarse
old jackdaw should have power to crow down such a Philomel! "Alas! what
a life it is!" I moralized, wisely. "That beautiful Countess, with the
patience of an angel and the beauty of a Venus and the accomplishments
of all the Muses, a slave! She knows perfectly who occupies the
apartments over hers; she heard me raise my window. One may conjecture
pretty well for whom that music was intended--aye, old gentleman, and
for whom you suspected it to be intended."

In a very agreeable flutter I left my room and, descending the stairs,
passed the Count's door very much at my leisure. There was just a chance
that the beautiful songstress might emerge. I dropped my stick on the
lobby, near their door, and you may be sure it took me some little time
to pick it up! Fortune, nevertheless, did not favor me. I could not stay
on the lobby all night picking up my stick, so I went down to the hall.

I consulted the clock, and found that there remained but a quarter of an
hour to the moment of supper.

Everyone was roughing it now, every inn in confusion; people might do at
such a juncture what they never did before. Was it just possible that,
for once, the Count and Countess would take their chairs at the