wever, his valet brought her a letter from him,
which contained the amount of his debt in Italian hundred liri notes,
which were accompanied by a very cool excuse. Wanda was satisfied, but
she wished to find out who the lady was, in whose company she constantly
saw Don Escovedo.

"Don Escovedo."

An Austrian count, who had a loud and silly laugh, said:

"Who has saddled you with that yarn? The lady is Lady Nitingsdale, and
his name is Romanesco."

"Romanesco?"

"Yes, he is a rich Boyar from Moldavia, where he has extensive estates."

Romanesco kept a faro bank in his apartments, and he certainly cheated,
for he nearly always won; it was not long, therefore, before other
people in good society at Lucca shared Madame von Chabert's suspicions,
and consequently Romanesco thought it advisable to vanish as suddenly
from Lucca as Escovedo had done from Vevey, and without leaving any more
traces behind him.

Some time afterwards, Madame von Chabert was on the island of
Heligoland, for the sea-bathing; and one day she saw Escovedo-Romanesco
sitting opposite to her at the _table d'hote_, in very animated
conversation with a Russian lady; only his hair had turned black since
she had seen him last. Evidently his light hair had become too
compromising for him.

"The sea water seems to have a very remarkable effect upon your hair,"
Wanda said to him spitefully, in a whisper.

"Do you think so?" he replied, condescendingly.

"I fancy that at one time your hair was fair."

"You are mistaking me for somebody else," the Brazilian replied,
quietly.

"I am not."

"For whom do you take me, pray?" he said with an insolent smile.

"For Don Escovedo."

"I am Count Dembizki from Valkynia," the former Brazilian said with a
bow; "perhaps you would like to see my passport."

"Well, perhaps...."

And at last, he had the impudence to show her his false passport.

A year afterwards, Wanda met Count Dembizki in Baden, near Vienna. His
hair was still black, but he had a magnificent, full, black beard; he
had become a Greek prince, and his name was Anastasio Maurokordatos. She
met him once in one of the side walks in the park, where he could not
avoid her. "If it goes on like this," she called out to him in a mocking
voice, "the next time I see you, you will be king of some negro tribe or
other."

That time, however, the Brazilian did not deny his identity; on the
contrary, he surrendered at discretion, and implored her not to