"In questions of marriage I never give advice," I said laughingly. "I take good care not to have an opinion."
We had come back to our horses.
"The horse shall choose for me," cried the Count, as he vaulted into the saddle and let the bridle lie slack.
The horse did not hesitate; he immediately entered a little footpath, which, after several turnings, descended into a metalled road which led to Dowghielly. Half an hour after we reached the Castle steps.
At the sound of our horses a pretty, fair head appeared at a window, framed between two curtains. I recognised the translator of Miçkiewicz, who had taken me in.
"You are welcome," she said. "You could not have come more apropos, Count Szémioth. A dress from Paris has just arrived for me. I shall be lovely past recognition."
The curtains closed again.
"It is certainly not for me that she is putting on this dress for the first time," muttered the Count between his teeth whilst mounting the steps.
He introduced me to Madam Dowghiello, the aunt of the panna Iwinska, who received me courteously and spoke to me of my last articles in the Kœnigsberg Scientific and Literary Gazette.
"The Professor has come to complain to you," said the Count, "of the malicious trick which Mademoiselle Julienne played on him."