keep the involuntary depositary of a political secret, even so vague a
one, in good humor.

Very graciously the Marquis took his leave, going up the stairs of the
Belle Etoile.

I remained upon the steps for a minute, lost in speculation upon this
new theme of interest. But the wonderful eyes, the thrilling voice, the
exquisite figure of the beautiful lady who had taken possession of my
imagination, quickly re-asserted their influence. I was again gazing at
the sympathetic moon, and descending the steps I loitered along the
pavements among strange objects, and houses that were antique and
picturesque, in a dreamy state, thinking.

In a little while I turned into the inn-yard again. There had come a
lull. Instead of the noisy place it was an hour or two before, the yard
was perfectly still and empty, except for the carriages that stood here
and there. Perhaps there was a servants' table-d'hote just then. I was
rather pleased to find solitude; and undisturbed I found out my
lady-love's carriage, in the moonlight. I mused, I walked round it; I
was as utterly foolish and maudlin as very young men, in my situation,
usually are. The blinds were down, the doors, I suppose, locked. The
brilliant moonlight revealed everything, and cast sharp, black shadows
of wheel, and bar, and spring, on the pavement. I stood before the
escutcheon painted on the door, which I had examined in the daylight. I
wondered how often her eyes had rested on the same object. I pondered in
a charming dream. A harsh, loud voice, over my shoulder, said suddenly:
"A red stork--good! The stork is a bird of prey; it is vigilant, greedy,
and catches gudgeons. Red, too!--blood red! Hal ha! the symbol is
appropriate."