then, and then only, remembered the strange manner in which Athos had taken leave of him, the embarrassment — imperceptible as it would have been to any but himself — of the master whose ideas were, to him, so clear and defined, and the expression of whose wishes was so precise.

He knew that Athos had taken nothing with him but the clothes he had on him at the time; and yet he seemed to fancy that Athos had not left for an hour merely; or even for a day. A long absence was signified by the manner in which he pronounced the word “Adieu.” All these circumstances recurred to his mind, with feelings of deep affection for Athos, with that horror of isolation and solitude which invariably besets the minds of those who love; and all these combined rendered poor Grimaud very melancholy, and particularly