At the moment of parting, however, won by the frank and easy bearing of his young English guest, the Count said kindly,—
"Are you Catholic or Protestant?"
"Protestant, decidedly."
"Remain so," said the Count, emphatically. Thenceforth he was a frequent and welcome visitor, enjoying advantages in the classic capital which only the Count's rank and influence could secure to a foreigner; warned however to be chary of expressing opinions that might excite jealousy where political intrigues were rousing suspicion on the part of the government.
One evening, the Countess returned early and discomposed from an entertainment where her husband had promised to meet her, and he had not appeared.
She tossed off her jewels and sat down by her baby's cradle, watching Phœbe's busy fingers engaged on some work.
"Phœbe," she said, "do you know I feel as if there is something wrong: he never disappointed me before; he always sends a note or message if he is detained. What can it be?"
"Dear missy, hab patience. P'raps him call away sudden. No time to send note."
"Phœbe, I have been so happy with him. Do you remember saying when I was going to change my religion for his sake, that it would break my heart some day?"
"Yes; bery well 'member dat. It was de 'ligion, not massa, me tink ob. Why, missy 'member now?"