bassador, the distinguished lady, and the
two Frenchmen), "real statesmen, poets, a general who has commanded
armies--in short, all really great minds are simple, and their
simplicity places you on a level with themselves.--You who are all of
superior minds," he said, addressing his guests, "have perhaps observed
how feeling can bridge over the distances created by society. If we
are inferior to you in intellect, we can be your equals in devoted
friendship. By the temperature--allow me the word--of our hearts I felt
myself as near my patron as I was far below him in rank. In short, the
soul has its clairvoyance; it has presentiments of suffering, grief,
joy, antagonism, or hatred in others.

"I vaguely discerned the symptoms of a mystery, from recognizing in the
Count the same effects of physiognomy as I had observed in my uncle.
The exercise of virtue, serenity of conscience, and purity of mind had
transfigured my uncle, who from being ugly had become quite beautiful.
I detected a metamorphosis of a reverse kind in the Count's face; at the
first glance I thought he was about fifty-five, but after an attentive
examination I found youth entombed under the ice of a great sorrow,
under the fatigue of persistent study, under the glowing hues of some
suppressed passion. At a word from my uncle the Count's eyes recovered
for a moment the softness of the periwinkle flower, and he had an
admiring smile, which revealed what I believed to be his real age, about
forty. These observations I made, not then but afterwards, as I recalled
the circumstances of my visit.

"The man-servant came in carrying a tray with his master's breakfast on
it.

"'I did not ask for breakfast,' remarked the Count; 'but leave it, and
show monsieur to his rooms.'

"I followed the servant, who led the way to a complete set of pretty
rooms, under a terrace, between the great courtyard and the servants'
quarters, over a corridor of communication between the kitchens and
the grand staircase. When I returned to the Count's study, I overheard,
before opening the door, my uncle pronouncing this judgment on me:

"'He may do wrong, for he has strong feelings, and we are all liable to
honorable mistakes; but he has no vices.'

"'Well,' said the Count, with a kindly look, 'do you like yourself
there? Tell me. There are so many rooms in this barrack that, if you
were not comfortable, I could put you elsewhere.'

"'At my uncle's I had but one room,' replied I.