"See," said the former broker of Berlin and of Paris, now an enlightened
amateur--"see, how that charlatan of a Fossati has taken care not to
increase the number of trinkets now that we are in the reception-rooms.
These armchairs seem to await invited guests. They are known. They have
been illustrated in a magazine of decorative art in Paris. And that
dining-room through that door, with all the silver on the table, would
you not think a fete had been prepared?"

"Baron," said Madame Gorka, "look at this material; it is of the
eighteenth century, is it not?"

"Baron," asked Madame Maitland, "is this cup with the lid old Vienna or
Capadimonte?"

"Baron," said Florent Chapron, "is this armor of Florentine or Milanese
workmanship?"

The eyeglass was raised to the Baron's thin nose, his small eyes
glittered, his lips were pursed up, and he replied, in words as exact as
if he had studied all the details of the catalogue verbatim. Their thanks
were soon followed by many other questions, in which two voices alone did
not join, that of Alba Steno and that of Dorsenne. Under any other
circumstances, the latter would have tried to dissipate the increasing
sadness of the young girl, who said no more to him after he repulsed her
amicable anxiety. In reality, he attached no great importance to it.
Those transitions from excessive gayety to sudden depression were so
habitual with the Contessina, above all when with him. Although they were
the sign of a vivid sentiment, the young man saw in them only nervous
unrest, for his mind was absorbed with other thoughts.

He asked himself if, at any hazard, after the manner in which Madame
Gorka had spoken, it would not be more prudent to acquaint Lincoln
Maitland with the secret return of his rival. Perhaps the drama had not
yet taken place, and if only the two persons threatened were warned, no
doubt Hafner would put Countess Steno upon her guard. But when would he
see her? What if he, Dorsenne, should at once tell Maitland's
brother-in-law of Gorka's return, to that Florent Chapron whom he saw at
the moment glancing at all the objects of the princely exposition? The
step was an enormous undertaking, and would have appeared so to any one
but Julien, who knew that the relations between Florent Chapron and
Lincoln Maitland were of a very exceptional nature. Julien knew that
Florent--sent when very young to the Jesuits of Beaumont, in England, by
a father anxious to spare him the humiliati