pardoned if I beg of you not to mention the means by which you
became aware of his presence here, or to simply state that you saw his
arrival chronicled in the paper? He may regard our interference in the
light of a liberty, although it was solely for his good."

"It was a liberty to take!" she answered coldly. "I will not promise
anything. I dare say I shall not mention it."

"There is one thing more which I should tell you, madam," he continued.
"Two days ago a visitor came to see him, having noticed in the paper, as
you have done, the paragraph I inserted. I will not tell you her name,
but she was one of the most beautiful and distinguished Englishwomen of
our aristocracy, and from the manner of her departure, I could not help
coming to the conclusion that the Count, by some means or other, had
frightened her to death. She was nearly fainting as she came downstairs,
and she has not been here since. I have no reason, beyond what I have
told you, to doubt the Count's sanity, but I think that it is right for
you to know this."

"Very well. I am not afraid. Kindly take me to him at once, now!" she
directed.

He led her out of the apartment, and up the broad staircase. Outside the
door of the Count's sitting-room he paused.

"Shall I announce you, madam?" he asked.

"No! Go away!" she answered shortly. "I wish to enter alone."

CHAPTER XVI

A NEW MEMBER FOR THE ORDER

Count Marioni sat in his old attitude, brooding over the fire from the
depths of his armchair, with a sad, vacant look in his dull eyes. At
first he took no notice of the opening of the door, but as the light,
smooth footsteps crossed the floor toward him and hesitated at his side,
he glanced wearily up. In a moment his whole expression was changed. He
was like a numbed and torpid figure suddenly galvanized into acute life.

He passed his hand swiftly across his eyes, and his thin fingers grasped
the sides of his chair with nervous force. Ah! he must be dreaming
again! It was one of the faces of the past, tempting and mocking him!
Yet, no! she stood there; surely she stood there. Mother of God! Was
this madness come at last?

"Margharita!" he cried, stretching out his hands toward her.
"Margharita!"

It was no dream, then, nor was it madness. It was truth. There were
loving, clinging arms around his neck, a passionate, weeping face
pressed close against his. Hot tears, her tears, were tricking down his
hollow cheeks, kindling his stag