"Perhaps not, in ordinary circumstances, perhaps not; but—" she hesitated, seemed confused, and looked at Laura, who went on,
"My aunt would say, sir, that we may be possibly asking too much—that we may presume too far."
"Not on my will to serve you," broke I in, for her looks said much more than her words.
"The matter is this, sir," said the aunt, "we have a very valued relative—"
"Friend," interposed Laura, "friend, aunt."
"We will say friend, then," resumed she; "a friend in whose welfare we are deeply interested, and whose regard for us is not less powerful, has been for some years back separated from us by the force of those unhappy circumstances which have made so many of us exiles! No means have existed of communicating with each other, nor of interchanging those hopes or fears for our country's welfare which are so near to every French heart! He in Germany, we in the wild Tyrol, one half the world apart! and dare not trust to a correspondence the utterance of those sympathies which have brought so many to the scaffold!"
"We would ask of you to see him, Monsieur de Tiernay, to know him," burst out Laura; "to tell him all that you can of France—above all, of the sentiments of the army; he is a soldier himself, and will hear you with pleasure."
"You may speak freely and frankly," continued the marquise; "the count is man of the world enough to hear the truth even when it gives pain. Your own career will interest him deeply; heroism has always had a charm for all his house. This letter will introduce you; and, as the general informs us, you have some days at your own disposal, pray give them to our service in this cause."
"Willingly, madame," replied I, "only let me understand a little better—"
"There is no need to know more," interrupted Laura; "the Count de Marsanne will himself suggest every thing of which you will talk. He will speak of us, perhaps—of the Tyrol—of Kuffstein; then he will lead the conversation to France—in fact, once acquainted you will follow the dictates of your own fancy."