eople who had fallen into so fortunate a mistake for me. Yet the little
man by my side insinuated himself so much into my confidence, that I had
half a mind to tell him of my exact situation, and to turn him into a
friend and an ally.

"Madame is perceptibly growing older," said he, in the midst of my
perplexity, glancing at our hostess.

"Madame is still a very fine woman," replied I.

"Now, is it not strange," continued he, lowering his voice, "how women
almost invariably praise the absent, or departed, as if they were angels
of light, while as for the present, or the living"--here he shrugged up
his little shoulders, and made an expressive pause. "Would you believe
it! Madame is always praising her late husband to monsieur's face; till,
in fact, we guests are quite perplexed how to look: for, you know, the
late M. de Retz's character was quite notorious,--everybody has heard of
him." All the world of Touraine, thought I, but I made an assenting
noise.

At this instant, monsieur our host came up to me, and with a civil look
of tender interest (such as some people put on when they inquire after
your mother, about whom they do not care one straw), asked if I had
heard lately how my cat was? "How my cat was!" What could the man mean?
My cat! Could he mean the tailless Tom, born in the Isle of Man, and now
supposed to be keeping guard against the incursions of rats and mice
into my chambers in London? Tom is, as you know, on pretty good terms
with some of my friends, using their legs for rubbing-posts without
scruple, and highly esteemed by them for his gravity of demeanour, and
wise manner of winking his eyes. But could his fame have reached across
the Channel? However, an answer must be returned to the inquiry, as
monsieur's face was bent down to mine with a look of polite anxiety; so
I, in my turn, assumed an expression of gratitude, and assured him that,
to the best of my belief, my cat was in remarkably good health.

"And the climate agrees with her?"

"Perfectly," said I, in a maze of wonder at this deep solicitude in a
tailless cat who had lost one foot and half an ear in some cruel trap.
My host smiled a sweet smile, and, addressing a few words to my little
neighbour, passed on.

"How wearisome those aristocrats are!" quoth my neighbour, with a slight
sneer. "Monsieur's conversation rarely extends to more than two sentences
to any one. By that time his faculties are exhausted, and he needs the
refreshment