“I owe you infinite obligation, my lord,” said the Count d’Erfeuil, “for rescuing me from this Germany, where I was perishing with ennui.”  “You are here, nevertheless,” replied Lord Nelville, “generally beloved and esteemed.”  “I have friends here,” replied the Count d’Erfeuil, “whom I sincerely regret; for we meet in this country the best people in the world; but I do not know a word of German, and you will agree with me that it would be too long and fatiguing a task for me to set about learning it now.  Since I have had the misfortune to lose my uncle I do not know what to do with my time, when I had the care of him it filled up my day, at present the twenty-four hours weigh heavily upon my hands.”  “The delicacy of your conduct towards your uncle,” said Lord Nelville, “inspires everybody with the most profound esteem for your character, Count.”  “I have only done my duty,” replied the Count d’Erfeuil; “the poor man had overwhelmed me with kindnesses during my childhood; I should never have deserted him had he lived a hundred years!  But it is happy for him, however, that he is dead; it would be a happy thing for me also were I to follow him,” added he, laughing; “for I have not much hope in this world.  I used my best endeavours, during the war, to get killed; but, since fate has spared me, I must only live as well as I can.”  “I shall congratulate myself on my arrival here,” answered Lord Nelville, “if you find yourself comfortable at Rome, and if—­” “Oh, mon Dieu,” interrupted the Count d’Erfeuil, “I shall find myself comfortable every where:  when we are young and gay every thing accommodates itself to us.  It is not from books, nor from meditation, that I have derived the philosophy which I possess, but from knowledge of the world, and trials of misfortune; and you see, my lord, that I have reason to reckon upon chance, since it has procured me the honour of travelling with you.”  In finishing these words the Count d’Erfeuil saluted Lord Nelville with the best grace in the world, settled the hour of departure for the following day, and took his leave.

The Count d’Erfeuil and Lord Nelville set out on the morrow.  Oswald, after some expressions of politeness had passed between them, was several hours without saying a word; but perceiving that this silence was disagreeable to his companion, he asked him if he anticipated pleasure from a residence in Italy:  “Mon Dieu,” replied the Count d’Erfeuil, “I know what I have to expect from that country.  I have no hope of any amusement there:  a friend of mine, who had passed six months at Rome, has assured me there is not a province of France where one may not find a better theatre and a more agreeable society than at Rome, but in that ancient capital of the world I shall surely find some Frenchmen to chat with, and that is all I desire.”  “You have not attempted to learn Italian?” interrupted Oswald.  “Not at all,” replied the Count d’Erfeuil; “that did not enter into my plan of study.”  And in saying this he assumed such a serious air that one would have believed it was a resolution founded upon grave motives.