chair, and for a time they conversed
agreeably on various subjects. The Count had been a brave, active
soldier in his day and was much interested in French military affairs.
The visitor, who was thoroughly posted on this topic and devotedly
attached to his profession, gave his inquisitive host every detail he
demanded and was particularly enthusiastic when he spoke of the Parisian
workmen, who, as he asserted, could leave their accustomed toil at a
moment's notice and encounter the perils of the battlefield with the
endurance of trained veterans.

At length Maximilian thought he could venture to feel the ground in
regard to his mission. It was certainly a very delicate matter, but the
Count's politeness and bonhomie encouraged him to proceed. Looking the
old nobleman straight in the face he said:

"I believe, Count, you have a son named Giovanni, who was recently in
Paris."

Instantly the aged Roman's brow clouded and he cast a scrutinizing
glance at his guest. Then he said, coldly:

"I have no son!"

Maximilian in his turn gazed searchingly at the Count, but the latter's
visage had already assumed a stony and defiant look that seemed to
oppose an insurmountable barrier to further conversation on this
subject. There was an awkward pause, during which the two men continued
to gaze at each other. M. Morrel, though much embarrassed and
disconcerted by the prompt check he had received, was the first to break
the ominous silence.

"I ask your pardon, Count," said he, "but the young man of whom I spoke
represented himself to be the Viscount Giovanni Massetti. Is it possible
that he was an impostor?"

The Count's aspect became more frigid; he replied, icily:

"I repeat that I have no son!"

Maximilian was sorely puzzled. He knew not what to think or say. The old
nobleman arose as if to terminate the interview. He showed no trace of
excitement, but M. Morrel felt certain that he was a prey to an internal
agitation that he with difficulty controlled. There could be no doubt
that Giovanni was what he had represented himself to be, for had he not
passed as the Viscount Massetti in Rome as well as in Paris? But one
solution to the mystery offered itself--the Count had disowned his son,
disowned him because of the terrible crime with which he was charged,
from which he had been apparently unable to clear himself. M. Morrel
also arose, but he was unwilling to depart thus, to be summarily
dismissed as it were. He determine