I'd wager there's not a man in the Duchy could have hit
that plot but myself."

Stubber nodded sententiously, without a word.

"I never liked that fellow," resumed the Duke. "I always had my
suspicion about that half-reckless, wasteful manner he had. I know that
I was alone in this opinion, eh, Stubber? It never struck _you?_"

"Never! your Highness, never!" replied Stubber, frankly.

"I can't show you the Sabloukoff's letter, Stubber, there are certain
private details for my own eye alone; but she speaks of a young sculptor
at Carrara, a certain--Let me find his name. Ah! here it is, Sebastian
Greppi, a young artist of promise, for whom she bespeaks our protection.
Can you make him out, and let us see him?"

Stubber bowed in silence.

"I will give him an order for something. There's a pedestal in the
flower-garden where the Psyche stood. You remember, I smashed the
Psyche, because it reminded me of Camilla Monti. He shall design a
figure for that place. I 'd like a youthful Bacchus. I have a clever
sketch of one somewhere; and it shall be tinted,--slightly tinted. The
Greeks always colored their statues. Strange enough, too; for, do you
remark, Stubber, they never represented the iris of the eye, which the
Romans invariably did. And yet, if you observe closely, you'll see that
the eyelid implies the direction of the eye more accurately than in the
Roman heads. I 'm certain you never detected what I 'm speaking of, eh,
Stubber?"

Stubber candidly confessed that he had not, and listened patiently while
his master descanted critically on the different styles of art, and his
own especial tact and skill in discriminating between them.

"You'll look after these police returns, then, Stubber," said he, at
last. "You'll let these people understand that we can suffice for the
administration of our own duchy. We neither want advice from Metternich,
nor battalions from Radetzky. The laws here are open to every man; and
if we have any claim to the gratitude of our people, it rests on our
character for justice."

While he spoke with a degree of earnestness that indicated sincerity,
there was something in the expression of his eye--a half-malicious
drollery in its twinkle--that made it exceedingly difficult to say
whether his words were uttered in honesty of purpose, or in mere mockery
and derision. Whether Stubber rightly understood their import is more
than we are able to say; but it is very probable that he was, with al