‘A note for monsieur,’ said a waiter, as he stood beside the bed.
I took it eagerly. It was from the countess; its contents were these:—
‘My dear Sir,—A hasty summons from Count Czaroviski has
compelled me to leave Brussels without wishing you good-bye,
and thanking you for all your polite attentions. Pray accept
these hurried acknowledgments, and my regret that
circumstances do not enable me to visit Ireland, in which,
from your description, I must ever feel the deepest
interest.
‘The count sends his most affectionate greetings.—Yours
ever sincerely,
‘Duischka Czaroviski née Gutzaff.’
‘And is she gone?’ said I, starting up in a state of frenzy.
‘Yes, sir; she started at ten o’clock.’
‘By what road?’ cried I, determined to follow her on the instant.
‘Louvain was the first stage.’
In an instant I was up, and dressed; in ten minutes more I was rattling over the stones to my banker’s.
‘I want three hundred napoleons at once,’ said I to the clerk.
‘Examine Mr. O’Leary’s account,’ was the dry reply of the functionary.