She also had her secret, but she would tell it to nobody, not even on her death-bed.

She also had a portrait written in ineffaceable characters in her heart, yet between him and her stand two infinite obstacles, the one a betrayed star whose name is Mesarthim, the other that unbetrayable thing, whose name is--woman's honour! "_Madame est servie!_" cried the epauletted lacquey, and the countess drawing her arm through Henrietta's, led her into the dining-room, where the gentlemen already awaited them.
After dinner the humorous young countess entertained Henrietta for a long time with her amusing chatter.

She told her, at the very outset, things that young wives, as a rule, only confide to their most intimate friends.

She told her, for instance, how very jealous her little Squirrel was (she called her husband by this pet name) and how he would never take her to Vienna or Pest, because he suspected that she might find someone there to interest her.

Anything like correspondence on her part was of course impossible; a wise woman will always have sense enough never to part with a line of writing.