that fellow of a father,—he surely was the cause of it all; but Florentine must have been spoiled for all good already, it was needless to think more of the matter. Here I heard the sound of a light foot in the stair, and opening my door perceived that it was Florentine herself, who observing me, called out with her melodious voice, “Good night!”
“Good night!” Alas I knew how little I could anticipate an easy repose! And yet—what fools men are—two gentle silver-like tones had almost replaced Florentine in my esteem and love! I fancied there was something peculiar in the tone with which she had bid me good night; it was obvious she could not have been wholly engrossed with her flirtations with the young men, or she would not have observed that I left the room without bidding good night to the company; the girl on the whole must be better than I had been about rashly to conclude. At this moment I thought I heard her door open again; my curiosity was excited, and without knowing exactly what I should do, I stept gently into the lobby; the lamp was extinguished, but I fancied I heard a whispering in No. 2, or 3. It occurred to me that there might be a communication between these apartments, and I felt myself irresistibly tempted to steal forward and endeavour to overhear what was passing. I was not mistaken; the major spoke aloud, Florentine in a low voice. “My love,” I heard the hussar say, “my only happiness, how I longed to be with you! But as for that rogue of a fellow Blum, I will break his neck; he shall never enter this apartment!”
I was about to give way to the passion which now wrought within me, and was extending my hand towards the door of No. 3, when my better reason prevailed, and I checked so imprudent a betrayal of my folly, by asking myself what right I had to interfere betwixt the two. My next feelings were almost of a grateful kind for having escaped the snare into which it appeared the major had been betrayed,—Florentine was no better than she should be, that was evident,
