Whilst he sat ruminating on past occurrences, the Count, having finished his business, entered the library, and roused him from his reverie. "Happily," said he, "I have now concluded all my engagements with my tenantry, and in two days shall be at liberty to attend you wherever you please."—"Indeed," cried Ferdinand, "it will be necessary to enter upon some field of action that may change the present current of my thoughts; for an indulgence of them would, in a short time, I believe, turn me into a complete misanthrope." "Nay," returned the Count, "if you are inclined to turn hermit, I am ready to concur in the design. I promise you the world holds forth no allurements to me; and it is only with a wish to forget myself, that I propose going into a public situation, if therefore you incline to solitude."
"No, no," said Ferdinand, rising hastily. "Solitude is only the nurse of discontent.—I am equally desirous with yourself to forget that "such things have been;" and in the
