"Your highness may be sure of my discretion."
"You will understand my reserve, sir. I will tell you then that, on the occasion of which I speak—this unfortunate Mortimer was so stupefied—(if it were not for our intimate friendship, I should say rendered stupid) by seeing too suddenly some one he had not met for a long time—that his head—you comprehend——"
"What, your highness, his reason——"
"Alas! yes, in this instance only—. You now comprehend why I demand secrecy of you?"
"Yes, yes, your highness."
"But that was not all; the shock suffered by poor Mortimer was such that, after having remained several moments stupefied with surprise, he no longer recognized this person; no, sir, he did not recognize him, though he had seen him a thousand times!"
"Is it possible, your highness?" said De Chemerant, in a tone of respectful doubt.
"It is, alas! only too true, sir, for you have no idea of the excitability of this good fellow. So I, who am his friend, should watch carefully that no trouble come to him. Think, then, if I should expose him to the risk of not knowing me. Mortimer is now the one whom I love most in the world, and you know, alas! sir, if the consolations of friendship are necessary to me."
"Still these unhappy memories, your highness?"
"Yes, I am weak, I own it—it is stronger than I."