engagements throughout the evening, as hour
after hour passed away and the colonel did not
appear. From that time he was seen no more
among us. His engagements for a month of
festivities of different sorts were all broken
through; and this, though one of the colonel's
most remarkable characteristics, was an almost
scrupulous punctuality. It was the strangest
thing. He was gone. This same punctuality,
of which I have spoken, had, however, appeared
in all his pecuniary dealings. He left no debt
behind him. Everything was paid up by his
confidential servant, who left the town a few hours
after his master.

The thing was a nine days' wonder, and every
soul among us was for that time occupied with
incessant speculation as to what could possibly
have become of this man, who had won the
admiration of all the men, and turned the heads of
half the women in Vienna. With me, I must
own that the sensation made by the colonel's
disappearance outlived even the legitimate nine days.
I was just at that age when a young fellow with
a keen eye for all that is attractive in the world
is most struck by such versatility of achievement,
and such uniform capacity as I had seen
manifested in this Hungarian colonel. I could not
forget him, and many were the efforts that I
made on my own responsibility to solve this
mystery with which his departure was
surrounded.

Among my acquaintances made at Vienna was
one whom I think I am justified in calling by the
warmer title of friend. This was a certain
Madame Stortzer, a lady who at that time occupied
a high and influential position in our society, her
husband being a member of the State Council,
and quite one of the great men of Vienna. I
had, on first coming out, brought introductions
to Madame Stortzer from an old and valued friend
of hers; and partly owing to this circumstance,
and partly, perhaps, because my freshness of
enjoyment and good spirits amused her, she had
taken me socially altogether under her wing. In
fact, we were great friends, and few days passed
without my spending an hour or two in her
boudoir, gossiping pleasantly enough about all
the news of the world we lived in.

Of course at the time I am speaking of it was
only natural that our talk should often turn to
the subject with which I have said that I, in
company with every one else, was so much
occupied the Hungarian colonel and his extraordinary
disappearance. Now it so happened that
whenever our conversation did take this turn, I
could not help observing that a curious expression
came over the lady's face. It was quite
involuntary, and indeed very slight and little
noticeable; but still I did remark it, and that so
invariably that I became at last impressed with
the idea that some particulars in connexion with
this matter were known to Madame Stortzer, of
which the rest of the world vas ignorant.

One day I was sitting talking to her as usual,
and, as was also usual, I was for the hundredth
time expressing my surprise that this secret of
the reason and manner of the colonel's
disappearance had baffled all our friends, and that the
thing still remained a dead secret to all of us. As
I spoke, I looked fixedly at Madame Stortzer's
face, and there, sure enough, was the old expression.
It was the expression of one bursting with
information, full of a secret, able to reveal it, but
deterred from doing so. I spoke suddenly, and on
the impulse of the moment:

"Dear Madame Stortzer, I am persuaded that
you know more about this affair than you say."

"What do you mean?" she replied, trying to
look displeased.

"I mean," said I, "that your kindness to me
has emboldened me so much that I allow my
thoughts to find expression in words. You know
what has become of Colonel Bergfeldt."

She paused, and appeared a good deal confused.
After a moment's indecision she turned suddenly
and looked me in the face. Satisfied with her
scrutiny, she spoke at last, quickly and earnestly:

"Can you keep a secret, for" (so many)
"years?" mentioning the number of years, which
it is needless to say have now elapsed. "I
believe you can," she continued, without waiting
for my answer. " I do know what has become of
Colonel Bergfeldt."

"I knew it," I said, almost unconsciously.

"Hush!" she continued, "not a word. Sit
still there on that fauteuil by the stove, and
listen. What I know you shall know."

I took my place as she had directed me, and
she went on:

"My husband, as you know, is a member of the
Council, and it is from him that I have learnt what
I am going to tell you. Judge if secrecy is necessary
on your part." I bowed, and she continued:

"Know, then, that some years ago an old
friend of mine, the Count Vordenberg, took to
himself a young wife, and carried her off to
his château near the old town of Reigersfeldt.
How surprised all his friends were! The count
was a middle-aged man, and, though not
advanced in years, was what is familiarly called an
' old bachelor.' He was a man, too, of excessively
quiet and studious habits, who liked to live shut
up with his books, and who, besides, was
engaged in all sorts of scientific experiments. In
short, he seemed the last man to marry a young
lady such as he had chosen, who, besides being
very pretty, was extremely animated and fond of
gaiety and change, almost to a fault.

"Well, the marriage took place, and the Count
and Countess Vordenberg went off to their
château to try the great experiment of life; an
experiment which threw into the shade all those
in which the count had formerly spent so much
of his time. I will do the countess the justice
to say that I believe her to have been
sincerely attached to her husband, and that I
also believe her to have been a highly principled,
and a good girl. Her worst faults were a
love of admiration and a frantic appreciation of
pleasure. Dangerous qualities enough you will