said the fellow, with a fierce
determination.

"_Me_, know me? what do you know about _me?_"

"Everything," and now he drew himself up, and stared at him defiantly.

"I declare I wonder at you, Anatole," whispered Long-worth. "Don't you
know the game of menace and insolence these rascals play at?" And again
the fellow seemed to divine what passed, for he said:--

"Your friend is wrong this time. I am not the cheat he thinks me."

"Tell me something you know about me," said Pracontal, smiling; and he
filled a goblet with wine, and handed it to him.

The other, however, made a gesture of refusal, and coldly said,--"What
shall it be about? I 'll answer any question you put to me."

"What is he about to do?" cried Longworth. "What great step in life is
he on the eve of taking?"

"Oh, I'm not a fortune teller," said the man, roughly; "though I could
tell you that he's not to be married to this rich Englishwoman. That
fine bubble is burst already."

Pracontal tried to laugh, but he could not; and it was with difficulty
he could thunder out,--"Servants' stories and lackeys' talk!"

"No such thing, sir. I deal as little with these people as yourself.
You seem to think me an impostor; but I tell you I am less of a cheat
than either of you. Ay, sir, than you, who play fine gentlemen, mi
Lordo, here in Italy, but whose father was a land-steward; or than
you--"

"What of me--what of _me?_" cried Pracontal, whose intense eagerness now
mastered every other emotion.

"You I who cannot tell who or what you are, who have a dozen names, and
no right to any of them; and who, though you have your initials burned
in gunpowder in the bend of your arm, have no other baptismal registry.
Ah! do I know you now?" cried he, as Pracontal sank upon a seat, covered
with a cold sweat and fainting.

"This is some rascally trick. It is some private act of hate. Keep him
in talk till I fetch a gendarme." Long-worth whispered this, and left
the room.

"Bad counsel that he has given you," said the man. "_My_ advice is
better. Get away from this at once--get away before he returns. There's
only shame and disgrace before you now."

He moved over to where Pracontal was seated, and placing his mouth close
to his ear, whispered some words slowly and deliberately.

"And are you Niccolo Baldassare?" muttered Pracontal.

"Come with me, and learn all," said the man, moving to the door; "for I
will not wait to be arrested and made a town talk."