tell us."

"Give me time!--give me time!" was Franchi's answer. He raised his
head, and eyed them all with a look of feigned surprise. "Is it
possible no one has heard it?"

He was answered by a general protest that nothing had been heard.

"Nobody knows what has happened at the Universo?" Franchi asked with
unusual energy.

"No, no!" burst forth from Malatesta and Orsetti. "No, no!" sounded
from behind.

"That is quite possible," continued Orazio, with a cynical smile. "To
tell you the truth, I did not think you had heard it. It only happened
half an hour ago."

"What happened?" asked Count Orsetti.

"A secret commission has been sent from Rome." There was a breathless
silence. "The government is alarmed. A secret commission to examine
Count Marescotti's papers, and to imprison him."

"That's his uncle's doing--the Jesuit!" cried Malatesta. "This is the
second time. Marescotti will be shut up for life."

"Did they catch him?" asked Orsetti.

"No; he got out of an upper window, and escaped across the roof. He
had taken all the upper floor of the Universo for his accomplices, who
were expected from Paris."

"Honor to Lucca!" Malatesta put in. "We are progressing."

"He's gone," continued Orazio, falling back exhausted on his chair,
"but his papers--" Here Franchi thought it right to pause and faintly
wink. "I'll tell you the rest when I have smoked a cigar. Give me a
light."

"No, no, you must smoke afterward," said Orsetti, rapping him smartly
on the back. "Go on--what about Marescotti's papers?"

"Compromising--very," murmured Franchi, feebly, leaning back out of
the range of Orsetti's arm.

"The Red count was a communist, we all know," observed Malatesta.

"_Mon cher_! he was a poet also," responded Orazio. Orazio's languor
never interfered with his love of scandal. "When any lady struck his
fancy, Marescotti made a sonnet--a damaging practice. These sonnets
are a diary of his life. The police were much diverted, I assure
you, and so was I. I was in the hotel; I gave them the key to all the
ladies."

"You might have done better than waste your fine energies in making
ladies names public town-talk," said Orsetti, frowning.

"Well, that's a matter of opinion," replied Orazio, with a certain
calm insolence peculiar to him. "I have no ladylove in Lucca."

"Delicious!" broke in Malatesta, brightening up all over. "Don't
quarrel over a choice bone.--Who is compromised the most? I'll have
her name p