although I would willingly have had him at my side to assist me in observing my fair enemies, indeed to serve as a sort of vice-spy.
I had now lost them, and after a long fruitless search, I found them again, the harlequin leaning upon the arm of a fantastic pantaloon, and columbine following them with a companion in a black domino and a prodigiously lofty feather in his hat. At this sight my heart began to beat quickly. My feet seemed to be attracted after them as if by a magnet; the stranger appeared to be engaged in very earnest conversation with her, and I could not help following close at their heels, even at the risk of being discovered. When once jealousy begins to speak, reason has no voice, but a lucky accident came to the assistance of poor reason; a sudden rush of the crowd divided me from the objects of my pursuit, and the general attention seemed to be concentrated towards a single point; this was a long funeral procession. It seemed as if the music had received a sign from one of the ima-
