"Do not be afraid, papa. I have not the slightest desire to fall in love with a deputy on the extreme Left," Gabrielle observed. "In young Capriani's case there would be no need for you to trouble yourself about your son-in-law's position," said the baroness loftily. "_Sa position est toute faite_. All Paris was at the ball the night before last in the Capriani Hotel--all the _rois en exil_ appeared there, and even some Siberian magnates, and all--that is very many--of the Austrians at present in Paris." "You know just as well as I do why all these magnates appeared at Capriani's," Truyn rejoined angrily. "But indeed I care nothing for this speculator's position--the man himself is odious--a common parvenu with a boor of a son." "Have it your own way," said the baroness. "Perhaps you know that a daughter of Capriani's is married to the Duke of Larothiere?" "Yes, I know it." "And that the Conte's property is estimated at a hundred million?" "It may be a hundred billion for all I care." "He is incontestably one of the most influential financiers in Europe." "Unfortunately, and one of the most corrupt and corrupting," Truyn rejoined with emphasis. "You have not, however, asked Gabrielle's opinion," persisted the baroness. Gabrielle tossed her head, but her answer was unuttered, for just at this moment the servant flung open the door, and the interesting conversation was interrupted by the announcement of fresh visitors. CHAPTER II. Two young men entered--two Counts Lodrin. They bore the same name; they were the sons of brothers--and as unlike each other as possible. With regard to Oswald--the "Ossi" of whom Truyn made mention a while before.--Gabrielle was convinced that no sculptured classic god, none of Raphael's cherubim could compare with him in beauty and distinction. She was perhaps alone in this view, although it must be confessed that few mortal men surpassed him in these two respects. About six and twenty, tall, slender--very dark--a gay, good-humoured smile on his handsome, aristocratic face--with an eager, ardent manner--and with what might be called the gypsy-like distinction that characterizes an entire class of the Austrian aristocracy he was the embodiment of chivalric youth. With all the attractiveness of his face, his eyes struck you at once--it would be hard to say what was wrong about them, whether they were too large, or too dark. They certainly were very beautiful, but they produced the impression of not suiting the face--of having been placed there by accident. But the incongruous impression made by those large, dark eyes upon almost every one who saw the young man for the first time was extremely fleeting, and passed away as soon as Oswald began to talk--as soon as his look became animated.