for whom I feel the
highest respect and esteem."

"And she deserves it," said Zerbine heartily, "every word you say
of her, as I, who know her thoroughly, can testify. I could not say
anything but good of her, even if I would."

"I seized the duke's arm, and stopped him before he had succeeded in
what he meant to do," continued de Sigognac, after a grateful glance at
the soubrette; "he was furiously angry, and assailed me with threats and
invectives, to which I replied with a mocking sang-froid, from behind my
stage mask. He declared he would have me thrashed by his lackeys, and
in effect, as I was coming back to this house, a little while ago, four
ruffians fell upon me in the dark, narrow street. A couple of blows with
the flat of my sword did for two of the rascals, while Herode and
Scapin put the other two hors-de-combat in fine style. Although the duke
imagined that only a poor actor was concerned, yet as there is also a
gentleman in that actor's skin, such an outrage cannot be committed with
impunity. You know me, marquis, though up to the present moment you have
kindly and delicately respected my incognito, for which I thank you. You
know who and what my ancestors were, and can certify that the family of
de Sigognac has been noble for more than a thousand years, and that not
one who has borne the name has ever had a blot on his scutcheon."

"Baron de Sigognac," said the marquis, addressing him for the first time
by his own name, "I will bear witness, upon my honour, before whomsoever
you may choose to name, to the antiquity and nobility of your family.
Palamede de Sigognac distinguished himself by wonderful deeds of valour
in the first crusade, to which he led a hundred lances, equipped, and
transported thither, at his own expense. That was at an epoch when the
ancestors of some of the proudest nobles of France to-day were not even
squires. He and Hugues de Bruyeres, my own ancestor, were warm friends,
and slept in the same tent as brothers in arms."

At these glorious reminiscences de Sigognac raised his head proudly, and
held it high; he felt the pure blood of his ancestors throbbing in his
veins, and his heart beat tumultuously. Zerbine, who was watching him,
was surprised at the strange inward beauty--if the expression may be
allowed--that seemed to shine through the young baron's ordinarily sad
countenance, and illuminate it. "These nobles," she said to herself,
"are certainly a race by themselves; they