"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