find my mere presence hateful to him; but I could
not help thinking that his looks expressed fear or suspense rather than
anger. When the laughter excited by the accident had died away, Ruffiano
turned to him with a voice and gesture of apology; and having once
laid his hand on Brunow's shoulder, continued to address him as if the
argument he was offering, whatever it might be, concerned Brunow more
intimately than any one else there present. He seemed, so far as I could
judge, to carry the suffrages of the meeting with him, but I had quite
resigned any feeble attempt I had made to follow the thread of his
discourse, when I caught distinctly the words, "Beware of the women!
I say it again and again and again: beware of the women! It is my
last word, beware of the women!" Every word of this I understood quite
clearly; and while I was wondering why the advice was given, Ruffiano
dropped back with a grotesque suddenness into his seat, and shouted the
words of warning a fourth time, striking both hands, palms downward, on
the table.

Brunow followed him, and beginning somewhat shakily at first, recovered
confidence as he went on, and, warming to his work, delivered a speech
which sounded eloquent and persuasive. It pleased his audience, beyond
a doubt, for almost every sentence was punctuated with murmurs of
approval; and when he sat down there was warm applause, in which
almost everybody but Ruffiano joined, but he remained unconvinced and
dissatisfied; it was evident from the way in which he rolled his gaunt
figure in his chair, and his frequent cries of "No, no! wrong, wrong!
absolutely wrong!" The count persuaded him to silence, and then spoke
again to the man who had charge of the door. He bowed and disappeared,
and there was a moment or two of waiting, during which everybody looked
eagerly towards the entrance. I seized the opportunity to whisper an
inquiry to the count.

"A deputation of Italian and Hungarian legates," he responded. "They
desire to congratulate us on the news of to-day, and to express their
sympathy for The Cause."

"That can do but little harm," I answered. "But I agree with Ruffiano
all the same: the less they know of our actual intentions the better."

The count nodded smilingly. "You are quite right; ours is not work for
women."

As he spoke the door-keeper reappeared, bowing, and the whole assembly
rose to its feet. Half a dozen ladies entered, and some eight or ten of
our own number, amo