d them, singing out, "Here you are at last! I
give you my word, I've been driving over this blessed city two hours to
find you!"

"Tom!" cried Falkenstein.

"Captain Bevan!" echoed Valerie, springing to her feet, while Spit began
barking furiously.

Bevan shook hands with them; heartily glad to see his friend again,
though, of course he grumbled more about the snow and the stupidity of
the Viennese than anything else. "Very jolly rooms you've got," said he
at last; "and, 'pon my life, you look better than I've seen you do a
long time, Waldemar. Madame has done wonders for you."

"Madame" laughed, and glanced up at Falkenstein, who smiled half sadly.

"She has taught me how to find happiness, Tom. I wish you may get such a
teacher."

"Thank you, so do I, if my time ever comes; but geniuses _aux longs yeux
bleus_ are rare in the world. But you're wondering why I'm here, ain't
you?"

"I was flattering myself you were here to see us."

"Well, of course and very glad to see you, too; but I'm come in part as
your governor's messenger."

Valerie saw him look up quickly, a flush on his face. "My father?"

"Yes, that rascal--(you know I always said he was good for nothing, a
fool that couldn't smoke a Queen without being sick)--I mean, your
brother Maximillian--was at the bottom of the Count's row with you. Last
week I was dining at old Fitz's, and your father and sisters were there,
and when the women were gone I asked him when he'd last heard of you; of
course he looked tempestuous, and said, 'Never.' Happily, I'm not easily
shut up, so I told him it was a pity, then, for if he did he'd hear you
were jollier than ever, and I said your wife was---- Well, I won't say
what, for fear we spoil this young lady, and make her vain of herself.
The old boy turned pale, and said nothing; but two days after I got a
line from him, saying he wasn't quite well; would I go down and speak to
him. I found him chained with the gout, and he began to talk about you.
I like that old man, Waldemar, I do, uncommonly. He said he'd been too
hasty, but that it was a family failing, and that Max had brought him
such--well, such confounded lies--about Valerie, that he would have shot
you rather than see you give her your name; now he wants to have you
back. I'd nothing to do, so I said I'd come and ask you to forgive the
poor old boy, and come and see him, for he isn't well. I know you will,
Falkenstein, because you never _did_ bear malice."