a looking
shabbily cheerful in the sunshine (but not containing her any longer) was
so perturbing that I very nearly went away from the gate. Then when I
got in after much hesitation--being admitted by the man in the green
baize apron who recognized me--the thought of entering that room, out of
which she was gone as completely as if she had been dead, gave me such an
emotion that I had to steady myself against the table till the faintness
was past. Yet I was irritated as at a treason when the man in the baize
apron instead of letting me into the Pompeiian dining-room crossed the
hall to another door not at all in the Pompeiian style (more Louis XV
rather--that Villa was like a _Salade Russe_ of styles) and introduced me
into a big, light room full of very modern furniture. The portrait _en
pied_ of an officer in a sky-blue uniform hung on the end wall. The
officer had a small head, a black beard cut square, a robust body, and
leaned with gauntleted hands on the simple hilt of a straight sword.
That striking picture dominated a massive mahogany desk, and, in front of
this desk, a very roomy, tall-backed armchair of dark green velvet. I
thought I had been announced into an empty room till glancing along the
extremely loud carpet I detected a pair of feet under the armchair.

I advanced towards it and discovered a little man, who had made no sound
or movement till I came into his view, sunk deep in the green velvet. He
altered his position slowly and rested his hollow, black, quietly burning
eyes on my face in prolonged scrutiny. I detected something comminatory
in his yellow, emaciated countenance, but I believe now he was simply
startled by my youth. I bowed profoundly. He extended a meagre little
hand.

"Take a chair, Don Jorge."

He was very small, frail, and thin, but his voice was not languid, though
he spoke hardly above his breath. Such was the envelope and the voice of
the fanatical soul belonging to the Grand-master of Ceremonies and
Captain General of the Bodyguard at the Headquarters of the Legitimist
Court, now detached on a special mission. He was all fidelity,
inflexibility, and sombre conviction, but like some great saints he had
very little body to keep all these merits in.

"You are very young," he remarked, to begin with. "The matters on which
I desired to converse with you are very grave."

"I was under the impression that your Excellency wished to see me at
once. But if your Excellenc