"Yes, I knew him well. Did he ever tell you a peculiar thing which happened to him once?"
"How he received a slap in the face, one evening, from a cad?"
"And did he tell you the name of this cad?"
"No, sir, he did not. Ah! " I cried, guessing at the truth. "Forgive me, sir, I did not know. Can it be you?"
"Yes, it was I," answered the Count, in an embarrassed manner, "and that picture with a hole in it is a souvenir of our last interview."
"For God's sake, my dear," said the Countess, "don't speak of it — the thought of it terrifies me to this day."
"No," said the Count. "I feel I ought to tell this gentleman. He knows how I offended his friend and it is only fair that he should learn how he revenged himself."
The Count drew an armchair for me to sit in and I listened with the greatest interest to the following story:
"Five years ago we were married. We spent the first month of our honeymoon here in this house and to it clings the memory of the happiest days of my life, coupled with one of the most painful experiences I have ever had.
