"Two days more passed, when I received an intimation from Signora Grachia that there was to be a select conversazione in the evening at the palace, and that I was specially invited. I accompanied General Grachia's family; and the moment we entered the room, the Grand Duke accosted us. After conversing with us for a few moments, he offered me his arm, saying that he would conduct me to inspect his sculpture-gallery. This splendid museum communicated with the apartment wherein the company (which was by no means numerous on the occasion) was assembled. His Highness led me into the gallery, and explained all its curiosities. The works of art, by some of the most eminent masters, are very valuable. His Highness evidently prolonged the inspection as much as possible; and his language was occasionally interspersed with a compliment calculated to flatter me—nay, Diana, to make me very vain! When we returned to the drawing-rooms, the Duke led me to a sofa, seated himself by me, and conversed with me for a considerable time. He asked me many questions relative to my family—whether my father and mother were still living, whether I had any brothers or sisters, and in what degree of relationship I stood towards the Earl of Warrington? He then asked me how it was that I had not as yet launched my fortunes in the bark of matrimony? I blushed deeply at this question, and replied that I had never as yet encountered any one with whom I had chosen to link my destinies. He then spoke of the peculiar position of princes, observing with a deep sigh, that they could not always follow the bent of their inclinations, nor obey the natural dictates of their affections. During the remainder of the evening I was the object of universal attention—I could not then conceive wherefore—on the part of the noble and beauteous guests assembled. Every one manifested the most respectful courtesy towards me; and General Grachia's family were more kind to me than ever. Ah! a vague suspicion darted across my mind:—could it be possible? Oh! no—no! that were the height of the most insane presumption!
"Day after day passed; and frequent were the tokens of the Grand Duke's favour which I received—but all of the most delicate description—flowers, fruits, and books. I was also compelled to accompany the Grachias to all the ducal soirées and receptions; and on each occasion, the Duke paid me marked attention. Oh! my dear friend, my heart beats when I remember that only last evening his Serene Highness pressed my hand, and said to me in a low but impressive tone, 'Would that I were not a prince, or that you were a princess!'
"I can say no more at present, dearest Diana; but you shall speedily hear again from your sincerely attached and ever deeply grateful.
"ELIZA SYDNEY."
"No wonder," said the Examiner, drily, "that Baron Ruperto has desired the Envoy of Castelcicala at the English court to make inquiries relative to Miss Eliza Sydney. Let the contents of both letters be duly noted, and forwarded to her Majesty's Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs."
CHAPTER LXXIII.
CAPTAIN DAPPER AND SIR CHERRY BOUNCE.
THE verdure of the early spring re-clothed the trees with their gay garments, and gave back its air of cheerfulness to the residence of Count Alteroni.
It was about mid-day; and the sun beamed brightly from a heaven of unclouded blue. Nature appeared to be reviving from the despotism of winter's rule; and the primrose peeped bashfully forth to welcome the return of the feathered chorister of the grove.
The count and countess, with their lovely daughter, were seated in the breakfast-parlour. The two ladies were occupied with their embroidery: the noble Italian exile himself was reading the Montoni Gazette, which that morning's post had brought him.
Suddenly he uttered an exclamation of surprise, and then appeared to read with additional interest and attention.
"What news from Castelcicala?" inquired the countess.
"You remember that the Earl of Warrington applied to me between three and four months ago for letters of introduction on behalf of a lady of the name of Eliza Sydney?" said the count.
"And who was about to visit Castelcicala in order to escape the persecution of that vile man who aspired to the hand of Isabella," added the countess.
"The very same. She is a cousin of the Earl of Warrington; and it appears that her presence has created quite a sensation in Montoni. The Gazette of the 15th of last month contains the following passage:—'The fashionable circles of Montoni have lately received a brilliant addition in the person of Miss Eliza Sydney, a near relative of the Earl of Warrington, the noble Englishman who purchased some years ago the beautiful villa at the extremity of the suburbs of Petrarca. Miss Sydney has taken up her abode at the villa; and during the month that she has already honoured our city with her presence, her agreeable manners, amiable qualities, and great personal attractions have won all hearts. It is even rumoured that the highest person in the land has not remained indifferent to the attractions of this charming foreigner.'"
"Surely this latter sentence cannot allude to the duke?" exclaimed the countess.
"It can allude to none other," answered the count: "'the highest person in the land.' Of course it means the duke. But, after all, it is probably only one of those idle reports which so frequently obtain vogue in the fashionable circles of all great cities—"
"Or one engendered in the fertile brain of a newspaper editor," said the countess. "Still it would be strange if, through your letters of introduction—"
"Oh! it is too absurd to speculate upon," interrupted the count, impatiently.
"And yet your lordship is not unaccustomed to judge now and then by the mere superficial appearances of things," said the countess severely.
"I!" ejaculated the Italian noble.
"Decidedly," answered the countess. "You believed Mr. Greenwood to be an honest man without examining into his real position—"
"Ah! that one foolish step of mine!"
"And you pronounced Mr. Markham a villain without according him an opportunity of giving an explanation," added the countess.
"Always Richard Markham!" cried the count angrily. "Why do you perpetually throw his name in my teeth?"
"Because I think that you judged him too hastily," said the countess.
"Not at all! did he not admit that he had been in Newgate?"
A cold shudder crept over Isabella's frame.
"Yes; and so has our friend Mr. Armstrong, whom you value so highly, and whose letter from Germany gave you so much pleasure yesterday morning."
"Certainly I was pleased to receive that letter, because I had not heard from Armstrong so long: I fancied that something had happened to him. But, to return to what you were saying," continued the count; "Armstrong was incarcerated merely for a political offence; and there is something honourable in that."
"Mr. Markham may have been more unfortunate than guilty," said the countess. "At all events you have condemned without giving him a fair hearing. I have even asked you to refer to the newspapers of the period and read his case; but you refuse to give him a single chance."
"Your ladyship is very quick to blame," said the count, somewhat sarcastically; "but you forget how rejoiced you were some years ago to discover that the chevalier Gilderstein, whose father was executed for coining, was no relation of your family, as you had long deemed him to be: and yet the chevalier was himself innocent of his father's offence."
"I certainly have expressed myself more than once in the way you mention," returned the countess; "but I had so spoken without due consideration. Now that a case is immediately present to my view, I am inclined to feel and act more charitably."
"But how could Mr. Markham justify