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"Not at all." "I thought not. I remember the black-eyed little one--with her pride in Batthyany, and her hatred in Gorgey, and all the rest of it. The little Empress!--with her proud eyes, and her black eyelashes. Do you remember at Dunkirk, when old Anton Pepczinski met her for the first time? '_Little Natalushka, if I wait for you, will you marry me when you grow up?_" Then the quick answer, "_I am not to be called any longer by my nursery name; but if you will fight for my country, I will marry you when I grow up._'" Light-hearted as this man Calabressa was, having escaped from prison, and eagerly inclined for chatter, after so long a spell of enforced silence, he could not fail to perceive that his companion was hardly listening to him. "Mais, mon frere, a quoi bon le regarder?" he said, peevishly. "If it must come, it will come. Or is it the poor cardinal you pity? That was a good name they invented for him, anyway--_il cardinale affamatore_." Again the bell rung, and Ferdinand Lind started. When he turned to the door, it was with a look on his face of some anxiety and apprehension--a look but rarely seen there. Then the _portiere_ was drawn aside to let some one come through: at the same moment Lind caught a brief glimpse of a number of men sitting round a small table. The person who now appeared, and whom Lind saluted with great respect, was a little, sallow-complexioned man, with an intensely black beard and mustache, and a worn expression of face. He returned Lind's salutation gravely, and said, "Brother, the Council thank you for your prompt answer to the summons. Meanwhile, nothing is decided. You will attend here to-morrow night." "At what hour, Brother Granaglia?" "Ten. You will now be conveyed back to the Rialto steps; from thence you can get to your hotel." Lind bowed acquiescence; and the stranger passed again through the _portiere_ and disappeared. CHAPTER X. VACILLATION. "Evelyn, I distrust that man Lind." The speaker was George Brand, who kept impatiently pacing up and down those rooms of his, while his friend, with a dreamy look on the pale and fine face, lay back in an easy-chair, and gazed out of the clear panes before him. It was night; the blinds had not been drawn; and the row of windows, framed by their scarlet curtains, seemed a series of dark-blue pictures, all throbbing with points of golden fire. "Is there any one you do not distrust?" said Lord Eve
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