have to do." As he spoke, he hastened to his bedroom, and, providing
himself with a case containing his duelling-pistols, he hurried
downstairs, ordering the postilion to drive to the Russian Embassy.

The carriage was scarce driven from the door when Lady Broughton,
taking a key from her pocket, opened a small door which led from
the drawing-room into her dressing-room, from which the count walked
forth,--his calm features unruffled and easy as though no emotion had
ever stirred them.

"You heard what Broughton said?" whispered she, in an accent of
faltering agitation.

"Oui, _parbleu_, every word of it!" replied he, laughing gently. "The
people of the house might almost have heard him."

"And is it true?" asked she, while a cold sickness crept over her, and
her mouth was shaken convulsively.

"I believe so," said he, calmly.

"Oh, Alexis, do not say so!" cried she, in an agony of grief; "or, least
of all, in such a voice as that."

He shrugged his shoulders; and then, after a moment's pause, said, "I
confess myself quite unprepared for this show of affection, madame--"

"Not so, Alexis. It is for _you_ I am concerned; for your honor as a
gentleman; for your fair fame among men--"

"Pardon, madame, if I interrupt you; but the defence of my honor must be
left to myself--"

"If I had but thought this of you--"

"It is never too late for repentance, madame. I should be sorry to think
I could deceive you."

"Oh, it is too late, far too late!" cried she, bursting into tears.
"Let us go! I must never see him again! I would not live over that last
half-hour again to save me from a death of torture!"

"Allow me, then," said he, taking her shawl and draping it on her
shoulders. "The carriage is ready;" and with these words, spoken with
perfect calm, he presented his arm and led her from the room.

To return to Sir Dudley. On arriving at the Russian Embassy, he could
learn nothing of the whereabouts of him besought; a young secretary,
however, with whom he had some intimacy, drawing him to one side,
whispered, "Wait here a moment; I have a strange revelation to make
you,--but in confidence, remember, for it must not get abroad." The
story was this: Count Radchoffsky had been, on his recall from the
Embassy, detected in some Polish intrigue, and ordered to absent himself
from the capital and preserve a life of strict retirement, under police
"surveillance;" from this, he had managed to escape and reach England,