"The post-chaise the Count de Lhorailles ordered is waiting," he said.
"Thanks," one of the guests said, dismissing the waiter by a sign.
The latter went out, and closed the door after him. The few words he had uttered had broken the charm which enchained the guests; all sat up, as if aroused from sleep suddenly; and turning to a young man of thirty, they said,--
"I am," he answered, with a nod of affirmation.
"Where to, though? People do not usually part in this mysterious way," one of the guests continued.
The gentleman to whom the remark was addressed smiled sorrowfully.
The Count de Lhorailles was a handsome man, with expressive features, energetic glance, and disdainful lip; he belonged to the most ancient nobility, and his reputation was perfectly established among the "lions" of the day. He rose, and looking round the circle, said,--
"Gentlemen, I can perfectly well understand that my conduct appears to you strange. You have a right to an explanation from me, and I am most desirous to give it to you. It was, indeed, for that purpose that I invited you to the last supper we shall enjoy together. The hour for my departure has struck--the chaise is waiting. Tomorrow I shall be far from Paris, and within a week I shall have left France never to return. Listen to me."
The guests made a marked movement as they gazed on the count.
"Do not be impatient, gentlemen," he said; "the story I have to tell you is not long, for it is my own. In two words, here it is:--
"I am completely ruined. I have only a small sum of money left, on which I should starve in Paris, and end in a month by blowing out my brains--a gloomy perspective which possesses no attractions for me, I assure you. On the other hand, I have such a fatal skill with arms, that, without any fault of my own, I enjoy a reputation as a duellist, which weighs on me fearfully, especially since my deplorable affair with that poor Viscount de Morsens, whom I was obliged to kill against my will, in order to close his mouth and put a stop to his calumnies. In short, for the reasons I have had the honour of imparting to you, and an infinity of others it is needless for you to know, and which I am convinced would interest you very slightly, France has become odious to me to such a degree that I am most anxious to quit it. So now a parting glass of champagne, and good-by to all."