"By a single word the count could have insured the happiness of my
life and his own, but he did not speak it. He was the kindest and
most indulgent of guardians, and I was often affected to tears by
his tenderness. But, although my slightest wish was law, he did
not grant me his confidence. The secret--the mystery that stood
between us--was like a wall of ice. Still, I was gradually
becoming accustomed to my new life, and my mind was regaining its
equilibrium, when one evening the count returned home more
agitated and excited, if possible, than on the day of my departure
from the asylum. He summoned his valet, and, in a tone that
admitted no reply, he exclaimed, 'I wish to leave Cannes at once--
I must start in less than an hour--so procure some post-horses
instantly.' And in answer to my inquiring glance, he said: 'It
must be. It would be folly to hesitate. Each moment increases
the peril that threatens us.'
"I was very young, inexperienced, and totally ignorant of life;
but my sufferings, my loneliness, and the prospect of being
compelled to rely upon myself, had imparted to my mind that
precocious maturity which is so often observed among the children
of the poor. Knowing from the very first that there was some
mystery connected with the count's life, I had studied him with a
child's patient sagacity--a sagacity which is all the more
dangerous, as it is unsuspected--and I had come to the conclusion
that a constant dread rendered his life a burden.
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