nd another time when people tell you the stale gossip of Paris,"
added Galli, "you can tell them from me that they are mistaken about
the Duprez expedition. I know Duprez's adjutant, Martel, personally, and
have heard the whole story from him. It's true that they found Rivarez
stranded out there. He had been taken prisoner in the war, fighting
for the Argentine Republic, and had escaped. He was wandering about the
country in various disguises, trying to get back to Buenos Ayres. But
the story of their taking him on out of charity is a pure fabrication.
Their interpreter had fallen ill and been obliged to turn back; and not
one of the Frenchmen could speak the native languages; so they offered
him the post, and he spent the whole three years with them, exploring
the tributaries of the Amazon. Martel told me he believed they never
would have got through the expedition at all if it had not been for
Rivarez."

"Whatever he may be," said Fabrizi; "there must be something remarkable
about a man who could lay his 'come hither' on two old campaigners like
Martel and Duprez as he seems to have done. What do you think, signora?"

"I know nothing about the matter; I was in England when the fugitives
passed through Tuscany. But I should think that if the companions who
were with a man on a three years' expedition in savage countries, and
the comrades who were with him through an insurrection, think well of
him, that is recommendation enough to counterbalance a good deal of
boulevard gossip."

"There is no question about the opinion his comrades had of him,"
said Riccardo. "From Muratori and Zambeccari down to the roughest
mountaineers they were all devoted to him. Moreover, he is a personal
friend of Orsini. It's quite true, on the other hand, that there are
endless cock-and-bull stories of a not very pleasant kind going about
concerning him in Paris; but if a man doesn't want to make enemies he
shouldn't become a political satirist."

"I'm not quite sure," interposed Lega; "but it seems to me that I
saw him once when the refugees were here. Was he not hunchbacked, or
crooked, or something of that kind?"

The professor had opened a drawer in his writing-table and was turning
over a heap of papers. "I think I have his police description somewhere
here," he said. "You remember when they escaped and hid in the mountain
passes their personal appearance was posted up everywhere, and that
Cardinal--what's the scoundrel's name?--Spin