“This was all that the dying marquis communicated to you?”
“It is all.”
“Did you make no further inquiries about the matter in his native country?”
“I did, but they all proved fruitless.”
“Had the Marquis de Lanoy led an irreproachable life? I dare not call up every shade indiscriminately.”
“He died, repenting the excesses of his youth.”
“Do you carry with you any token of his!”
“I do.” (The prince had really a snuff-box with the marquis’ portrait enamelled in miniature on the lid, which he had placed upon the table near his plate during the time of supper.)
“I do not want to know what it is. If you will leave me you shall see the deceased.”
He requested us to wait in the other pavilion until he should call us. At the same time he caused all the furniture to be removed from the room, the windows to be taken out, and the shutters to be bolted. He ordered the innkeeper, with whom he appeared to be intimately connected, to bring a vessel with burning coals, and carefully to extinguish every fire in the house. Previous to our leaving the room he obliged us separately to pledge our honor that we would maintain an everlasting silence respecting everything we should see and hear. All the doors of the pavilion we were in were bolted behind us when we left it.