What is the matter with that young man?
He is as sad as Don Quixote." "Nino?
He is probably in love," I said, rather indiscreetly.
"In love?
Then of course he is in love with Mademoiselle de Lira, and has gone to Paris to find her, and cannot.

That is why you ask me." I was so much astonished at the quickness of his guesswork that I stared, open-mouthed.
"He must have told you!" I exclaimed at last.
"Nothing of the kind.

In the course of a long life I have learned to put two and two together, that is all.

He is in love, he is your boy, and you are looking for a certain young lady.

It is as clear as day." But in reality he had guessed the secret long before.
"Very well," said I, humbly, but doubting him, all the same, "I can only admire your perspicacity.