you tell the story as a fact, sir?" said the Prince, whose dark
cheek became almost green in its sallowness as he spoke.

"I tell it distinctly as a fact. The Papa who received the woman's
confession repeated the tale on his own deathbed, from whence it reached
me."

"Priests can be liars, whether Greek or Roman," said the Prince, in a
voice almost suffocated with passion; and then, suddenly checking the
course of his anger, he turned to Kate with a sickly smile, and said,
"Mademoiselle will pardon a rudeness in her presence which nothing short
of so gross a calumny could have elicited."

"I will furnish you with all the names to-morrow, Monsieur le Prince,"
said D'Esmonde, in a whisper; and sauntered away into the adjoining
room.

"You look pale, Miss Dalton," said the Prince.

"That shocking story--"

"Which of course you don't believe."

"The Abbe D'Esmonde I have always heard to be a person of strict
veracity and of extreme caution."

"Be careful of him, Miss Dalton. It is not without good reason that I
say this."

There was a degree of solemnity in the way he uttered these words that
made Kate thoughtful and serious. Unaccustomed to see, in society,
anything but features of pleasure and amusement, she was suddenly
awakened to the conviction that its calm waters covered rocks and
quicksands as perilous as stormier seas. Could people so full of
amiabilities be dangerous acquaintances? Was there poison in this
charmed cup? Was the doubt which sprang to her mind But she had not time
for the inquiry, as the Prince offered her his arm to the supper-room.

CHAPTER XXV. A "LEVANTER."

IN our penal settlements nothing is more common than to find the places
of honor and distinction filled by men who were once convicts, and who
may date the favorable turn of their fortune to the day of their having
transgressed the law. So in certain Continental cities are individuals
to be found occupying conspicuous stations, and enjoying a large share
of influence, whose misdeeds at home first made them exiles, and who,
leaving England in shame, are received abroad with honor. There is this
difference between the two cases; for while the convict owes all his
future advancement to his own efforts at reformation, the absentee
obtains his "brevet" of character by the simple fact of his extradition.
He shakes off his rascalities as he does his rheumatism, when he quits
the foggy climate of England, and emerges spotless and