Give thy thoughts no tongue.
SHAKESPEARE
The Baron St. Foix, whom anxiety for his friend had kept awake, rose
early to enquire the event of the night, when, as he passed the Count's
closet, hearing steps within, he knocked at the door, and it was opened
by his friend himself. Rejoicing to see him in safety, and curious to
learn the occurrences of the night, he had not immediately leisure to
observe the unusual gravity, that overspread the features of the Count,
whose reserved answers first occasioned him to notice it.
The Count, then smiling, endeavoured to treat the subject of his curiosity with
levity, but the Baron was serious, and pursued his enquiries so closely,
that the Count, at length, resuming his gravity, said, 'Well, my friend,
press the subject no further, I entreat you; and let me request
also, that you will hereafter be silent upon any thing you may think
extraordinary in my future conduct. I do not scruple to tell you, that I
am unhappy, and that the watch of the last night has not assisted me to
discover Ludovico; upon every occurrence of the night you must excuse my
reserve.'
'But where is Henri?' said the Baron, with surprise and disappointment
at this denial. 'He is well in his own apartment,' replied the Count. 'You will not
question him on this topic, my friend, since you know my wish.'
'Certainly not,' said the Baron, somewhat chagrined, 'since it would
be displeasing to you; but methinks, my friend, you might rely on my
discretion, and drop this unusual reserve. However, you must allow me to
suspect, that you have seen reason to become a convert to my system, and
are no longer the incredulous knight you lately appeared to be.'
'Let us talk no more upon this subject,' said the Count; 'you may be
assured, that no ordinary circumstance has imposed this silence upon me
towards a friend, whom I have called so for near thirty years; and
my present reserve cannot make you question either my esteem, or the
sincerity of my friendship.'
'I will not doubt either,' said the Baron, 'though you must allow me to
express my surprise, at this silence.'
'To me I will allow it,' replied the Count, 'but I earnestly entreat
that you will forbear to notice it to my family, as well as every thing
remarkable you may observe in my conduct towards them.'
The Baron readily promised this, and, after conversing for some time on
general topics, they descended to the breakfast-room, where the Count
met his family with a cheerful countenance, and evaded their enquiries
by employing light ridicule, and assuming an air of uncommon gaiety,
while he assured them, that they need not apprehend any evil from the
north chambers, since Henri and himself had been permitted to return
from them in safety.