we own that we
don't know what we were so indignant about."

"Only so many of us as have characters for the 'latest intelligence.'"

To this sally there succeeded a somewhat awkward pause, Scaresby
occupying himself with thoughts of some perfectly safe vengeance.

"I shouldn't wonder if it was that Count Marsano--that fellow who used
to be about the Nina long ago--come back again. He was at Como this
summer, and made many inquiries after his old love!"

A most insulting stare of defiance was the only reply the old Duke
could make to what he would have been delighted to resent as a personal
affront.

"Marsano is a _mauvais drole_," said a Russian; "and if a woman slighted
him, or he suspected that she did, he's the very man to execute a
vengeance of the kind."

"I should apply a harsher epithet to a man capable of such conduct,"
said the Duke.

"He 'd not take it patiently, Duke," said the other.

"It is precisely in that hope, sir, that I should employ it," said the
Duke.

Again was the conversation assuming a critical turn, and again an
interval of ominous silence succeeded.

"There is but one carriage now in the court, your Excellency," said the
servant, addressing the Duke in a low voice, "and the gentleman inside
appears to be seriously ill. It might be better, perhaps, not to detain
him."

"Of course not," said the Duke; "but stay, I will go down myself."

There were still a considerable number of persons on foot in the court
when the Duke descended, but only one equipage remained,--a hired
carriage,--at the open door of which a servant was standing, holding a
glass of water for his master.

"Can I be of any use to your master?" said the Duke, approaching. "Is he
ill?"

"I fear he has burst a blood-vessel, sir," said the man. "He is too weak
to answer me."

"Who is it,--what 's his name?"

"I am not able to tell you, sir; I only accompanied him from the hotel."

"Let us have a doctor at once; he appears to be dying," said the Duke,
as he placed his fingers on the sick man's wrist. "Let some one go for a
physician."

"There is one here," cried a voice. "I'm a doctor;" and Billy Traynor
pushed his way to the spot. "Come, Master Charles, get into the coach
and help me to lift him out."

Young Massy obeyed, and not without difficulty they succeeded at last
in disengaging the almost lifeless form of a man whose dark domino was
perfectly saturated with fresh blood; his half mask still covered hi