who,
my dear Varhely--strive to render difficult. And yet, I would like to
oblige you; I would, I assure you."

"If Count Menko is not set at liberty, what will happen to him?" asked
Yanski.

"Hmm--he might, although a foreigner, be forced to take a journey to
Siberia."

"Siberia! That is a long distance off, and few return from that
journey," said Varhely, his voice becoming almost hoarse. "I would give
anything in the world if Menko were free!"

"It would have been so easy for him not to have been seized by the
Russian police."

"Yes; but he is. And, I repeat, I have come to you to demand his
release. Damn it! Such a demand is neither a threat nor a cases belli."

The minister calmed the old hussar with a gesture.

"No," he replied, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth;
"but it is embarrassing, embarrassing! Confound Menko! He always was a
feather-brain! The idea of his leaving diplomacy to seek adventures! He
must know, however, that his case is--what shall I say?--embarrassing,
very embarrassing. I don't suppose he had any idea of conspiring. He is
a malcontent, this Menko, a malcontent! He would have made his mark
in our embassies. The devil take him! Ah! my dear Count, it is very
embarrassing, very embarrassing!"

The minister uttered these words in a calm, courteous, polished manner,
even when he said "The devil take him!" He then went on to say, that
he could not make Varhely an absolute promise; he would look over the
papers in the affair, telegraph to Warsaw and St. Petersburg, make a
rapid study of what he called again the "very embarrassing" case of
Michel Menko, and give Varhely an answer within twenty-four hours.

"That will give you a chance to take a look at our city, my dear Count.
Vienna has changed very much. Have you seen the opera-house? It is
superb. Hans Makart is just exhibiting a new picture. Be sure to see it,
and visit his studio, too; it is well worth examining. I have no need to
tell you that I am at your service to act as your cicerone, and show you
all the sights."

"Are any of our old friends settled here?" asked Varhely.

"Yes, yes," said the minister, softly. "But they are deputies,
university professors, or councillors of the administration. All
changed! all changed!"

Then Varhely wished to know if certain among them whom he had not
forgotten had "changed," as the minister said.

"Where is Armand Bitto?"

"Dead. He died very poor."

"And Arpad Ovody,