had no time to ask any
questions. Another servant appeared, coming out of the rooms, and,
bowing low before Count Ville-Handry, he said,--

"The ladies have but just risen from table, and are still dressing."

"Ah!"

"If the gentlemen will please sit down in the parlor, I will tell M.
Elgin."

"Very well," said the count, speaking in a tone which showed that he
considered himself perfectly at home in Miss Brandon's house. He entered
the parlor, followed by Daniel. It was a magnificent room; but every
thing in it, from the carpet on the floor to the chandelier on the
ceiling, betrayed the Puritanic taste of Mrs. Brian. It was splendid;
but the splendor was cold, stiff, and mournful. The furniture had sharp
angles, and suggested any thing but comfort. The bronze figures on the
mantlepiece-clock were biblical personages; and the other bronzes were
simply hideous. Except these, there was no ornament visible, not a
painting, nor a statuette.

Yes, one. Opposite the fireplace, in the place of honor, there stared
at you a painting in a most costly gilt frame,--a horrible daub,
representing a man of about fifty years, who wore a fancy uniform with
enormous epaulets, a huge sword, a plumed hat, and a blue sash, into
which two revolvers were thrust.

"Gen. Brandon, Miss Sarah's father," said Count Ville-Handry, in a tone
of deep respect, which unnerved Daniel. "As a work of art, this portrait
leaves, no doubt, much to be wished for; but they say the likeness is
excellent."

Certainly, though that might be so, there was no resemblance to be
discovered between the tanned face of this American general and the
blooming features of Miss Brandon. But there was something more. As
Daniel examined this picture nearer by, and more closely, he thought he
discovered a studied and intentional coarseness of execution. It looked
to him like the work of an artist who had endeavored to imitate those
wretched painters who live upon the vanity of weak men and little
children. He thought he discovered by the side of gross inaccuracies
unmistakable traces of a master's hand; and especially one of the ears,
half hid behind the hair, seemed to him admirably done.

But, before he could draw his conclusions from this strange discovery,
M. Thomas Elgin appeared in the room. He was in evening costume, looking
taller and stiffer than ever in his white cravat; and, as he came
forward, he halted a little on one foot, though leaning upon a big cane.