However, she saw that I did not back her up, and began to weep, then kissed me again and again, and just as she was going to sit down, worn out with fatigue and despair, I went off, wishing them a pleasant journey, and telling Irene we should meet again.  The reader will learn in due time when and how I saw them again.  After all the fatigue I had gone through I was glad to go to bed.

It was eight o’clock when the young lieutenant awoke me.

“My sister has told me about the masquerade,” said he, “but I have a great secret to confide in you.”

“Say on, and count on my keeping your secret.”

“One of the finest noblemen of the town, my friend and my cousin’s lover, who has to be very careful of his actions on account of his exalted position, would like to be of the party if you have no objection.  My sister and my cousin would like him to come very much.”

“Of course he shall.  I have been making my calculations for a party of five, and now it will be a party of six, that is all.”

“You really are a splendid fellow.”

“On Sunday evening you must be at a certain place, of which I will tell you.  First of all we will have supper, then put on our disguises, and then go to the ball.  To-morrow at five o’clock we shall meet at your sister’s.  All I want to know is what is the height of your mistress and of the young nobleman.”

“My sweetheart is two inches shorter than my sister, and a little thinner; my friend is just about the same make as you are, and if you were dressed alike you would be mistaken for each other.”

“That will do.  Let me think it over, and leave me alone now; there’s a Capuchin waiting for me, and I am curious to learn his business.”

A Capuchin had called on me and I had told Clairmont to give him an alms, but he had said he wanted to speak to me in private.  I was puzzled, for what could a Capuchin have to say to me?

He came in, and I was at once impressed by his grave and reverend appearance.  I made him a profound bow and offered him a seat, but he remained standing, and said,

“Sir, listen attentively to what I am about to tell you, and beware of despising my advice, for it might cost you your life.  You would repent when it was too late.  After hearing me, follow my advice immediately; but ask no questions, for I can answer none.  You may guess, perhaps, that what silences me is a reason incumbent on all Christians—­the sacred seal of the confessional.  You may be sure that my word is above suspicion; I have no interests of my own to serve.  I am acting in obedience to an inspiration; I think it must be your guardian angel speaking with my voice.  God will not abandon you to the malice of your enemies.  Tell me if I have touched your heart, and if you feel disposed to follow the counsels I am going to give you.”

“I have listened to you, father, with attention and respect.  Speak freely and advise me; what you have said has not only moved me, but has almost frightened me.  I promise to do as you tell me if it is nothing against honour or the light of reason.”