necessary to happiness; and however cold a
man may feel, he should never warm himself through a burning-glass.'

There seemed through all he said something like a retrospective tone, as
though he were rather giving the fruit of past personal experiences than
merely speculating on the future; and I could not help throwing out a
hint to this purport.

'Perhaps you are right,' said he; then, after a long silence, he
added: 'It is a fortunate thing after all when the faults of a man's
temperament are the source of some disappointment in early life, because
then they rarely endanger his subsequent career. Let him only escape the
just punishment, whatever it be, and the chances are that they embitter
every hour of his after-life. His whole care and study being not
correction, but concealment, he lives a life of daily duplicity; the
fear of detection is over him at every step he takes; and he plays
a part so constantly that he loses all real character at last in the
frequency of dissimulation. Shall I tell you a little incident with
which I became acquainted in early life. If you have nothing better to
do, it may while away the hours before dinner.'

CHAPTER XIII. THE ABBE'S STORY

'Without tiring you with any irrelevant details of the family and
relatives of my hero, if I dare call him such, I may mention that he
was the second son of an old Belgian family of some rank and wealth, and
that in accordance with the habits of his house he was educated for the
career of diplomacy. For this purpose, a life of travel was deemed the
best preparation--foreign languages being the chief requisite, with such
insight into history, national law, and national usages as any young man
with moderate capacity and assiduity can master in three or four years.

'The chief of the Dutch mission at Frankfort was an old diplomat of
some distinction, but who, had it not been from causes purely personal
towards the king, would not have quitted The Hague for any embassy
whatever. He was a widower, with an only daughter--one of those true
types of Dutch beauty which Terburg was so fond of painting. There are
people who can see nothing but vulgarity in the class of features I
speak of, and yet nothing in reality is farther from it. Hers was a
mild, placid face, a wide, candid-looking forehead, down either side of
which two braids of sunny brown hair fell; her skin, fair as alabaster,
had the least tinge of colour, but her lips were full, and of a