“Do I look thus?” asked the soldier, with a voice of surprise.

“Often.”

“I knew it not,” replied Lorenzo Bezan, somewhat earnestly.

“It seems a mystery to me that General Bezan, honored by the queen, with a purse well filled with gold, and promoted beyond all precedent in his profession, should not rather smile than frown; but perhaps there is some reason for grief in your heart, and possibly I am careless, and probing to the quick a wound that may yet be fresh.”

The soldier breathed an involuntary sigh, but said nothing.

“Yes.  I see now that I have annoyed you, and should apologize,” she said.

“Nay, not so; you have been more than a friend to me; you have been an instructress in gentle refinement and all that is lovely in your sex, and I should but poorly repay such consideration and kindness, were I not to confide in you all my thoughts.”

The countess could not imagine what was coming.  She turned pale, and then a blush stole over her beautiful features, betraying how deeply interested she was.

“I hope, general,” she said, “that if there is aught in which a person like myself might offer consolation or advice to you, it may be spoken without reserve.”

“Ah, countess, how can I ever repay such a debt as you put me under by this very touching kindness, this most sisterly consideration towards me?”

There was a moment’s pause in which the eyes of both rested upon the floor.

“You say that I am sad at times.  I had thought your brilliant conversation and gentleness of character had so far made me forget that I no longer looked sad.  But it is not so.  You, so rich in wealth and position, have never known a want, have never received a slight, have never been insulted at heart for pride’s sake.  Lady, I have loved a being, so much like yourself, that I have often dreamed of you together.  A being all pure and beautiful, with but one sad alley in her sweet character-pride.  I saw her while yet most humble in rank.  I served herself and father and brother, even to saving their lives; I was promoted, and held high honor with my command; but she was rich, and her father high in lordly honors and associations.  I was but a poor soldier; what else might I expect but scorn if I dared to love her?  But, countess, you are ill,” said the soldier, observing her pallid features and quick coming and going breath.

“Only a temporary illness; it is already gone,” she said.  “Pray go on.”

“And yet I believe she loved me also though the pride of her heart choked the growth of the tendrils of affection.  Maddened by the insults of a rival, who was far above me in rank, I challenged him, and for this was banished from the island where she lives.  Do you wonder that I am sometimes sad at these recollections? that my full heart will sometimes speak in my face?”

“Nay, it is but natural,” answered the countess, with a deep sigh.