st Prince Metternich and the Diet! It's a very rascally
world altogether, and out of Tattersall's yard I never expect to hear of
honesty or good principles; and, _a propos_ to nothing, let us have some
piquet, Count."

The table was soon got ready, and the players had just seated
themselves, when the sound of carriage-wheels in the court attracted
their attention.

"What can it mean, Scroope? Are you quite certain that you said I
wouldn't receive to-night?"

"Yes; I told them what you b-bade me; that if the Archduke called----"

"There, you need n't repeat it," broke in Mrs. Ricketts, for certain
indications around Haggerstone's mouth showed the sense of ridicule that
was working within him.

"I suppose, madam, you feel somewhat like poor Pauline, when she said
that she was so beset with kings and kaisers she had never a moment left
for good society?"

"You must say positively, Scroope, that I admit no one this evening."

"The Signor Morlache wishes to see you, madam," said a servant. And
close behind him, as he spoke, followed that bland personage, bowing
gracefully to each as he entered.

"Sorry--most sorry--madam, to intrude upon your presence; but the Prince
Midchekoff desires to have a glance at the pictures and decorations
before he goes away from Florence."

"Will you mention to him that to-morrow, in the afternoon, about five
or----"

"He leaves this to-morrow morning, madam; and if you could--"

[Illustration: 056]

But before the Jew could finish his request the door was flung wide, and
the great Midchekoff entered, with his hands in his coat-pockets, and
his glass in one eye. He sauntered into the room with a most profound
unconsciousness that there were people in it. Not a glance did he even
bestow on the living figures of the scene, nor did a trait of his manner
evince any knowledge of their presence. Ranging his eyes over the
walls and the ceilings, he neither noticed the martial attitude of
Haggerstone, nor the graceful undulations by which Mrs. Ricketts was, as
it were, rehearsing a courtesy before him.

"Originals, but all poor things, Morlache," said the Prince. And really
the observation seemed as though uttered of the company rather than the
pictures.

"Mrs. Ricketts has been good enough, your Highness--" began the Jew.

"Give her a Napoleon," said he, listlessly, and turned away.

"My sister, Mrs. Ricketts--Mrs. M-M-Montague Ricketts," began Scroope,
whose habitual timidity gave