ely. I am aware who is my rival."

"Let me pass, sir."

He placed his back to the door, and folded his arms on his breast;
but though he made an immense effort to seem calm, his lip shook as he
spoke. "You shall hear me out. I tell you, I know my rival, and I am
ready and prepared to stake my pretensions against his."

"Go on, sir, go on; very little more in this strain will efface any
memory I preserved of what you first appeared to me."

"Oh, Alice!" cried he, in a voice of deep anguish. "It is despair has
brought me to this. When I came, I thought I could have spoken with calm
and self-restraint; but when I saw you--saw what I once believed might
have been mine--I forgot all--all but my misery."

"Suffer me to pass out, sir," said she, coldly. He moved back, and
opened the door wide, and held it thus as she swept past him, without a
word or a look.

Maitland pressed his hat deep over his brow, and descended the stairs
slowly, one by one. A carriage drove to the door as he reached it, and
his friend Caffarelli sprang out and grasped his hand.

"Come quickly, Maitland!" cried he. "The King has left the palace. The
army is moving out of Naples to take up a position at Capua. All
goes badly. The fleet is wavering, and Garibaldi passed last night at
Salerno."

"And what do I care for all this? Let me pass."

"Care for it! It is life or death, _caro mio!_ In two hours more the
populace will tear in pieces such men as you and myself, if we 're found
here. Listen to those yells, _Morte ai Reali!_ Is it with 'Death to the
Royalists!' ringing in our ears we are to linger here?"

"This is as good a spot to die in as another," said Maitland; and he
lighted his cigar and sat down on the stone bench beside the door.

"The Twenty-fifth of the Line are in open revolt, and the last words of
the King were, 'Give them to Maitland, and let him deal with them.'"

Maitland shrugged his shoulders, and smoked on.

"Genario has hoisted the cross of Savoy over the fort at Baia,"
continued the other, "and no one can determine what is to be done. They
all say, 'Ask Maitland.'"

"Imitate him! Do the same over the Royal Palace!" said the other,
mockingly.

"There, there! Listen to that cry! The mob are pouring down the Chiaja.
Come away."

"Let us look at the scoundrels," said Maitland, taking his friend's arm,
and moving into the street Caffarelli pushed and half lifted him into
the carriage, and they drove off at speed.