"Certainly," said the Count, with his superb air of _grand seigneur_; "I will go down and clear your house of this impertinent _canaille_. But I thought your affairs were with Baron Levy. He should be here." "I expect him every moment. Adieu! Mr. Hazeldean." Beatrice extended her hand to her young lover with a frankness which was not without a certain pathetic and cordial dignity. Restrained from farther words by the Count's presence, Frank bowed over the fair hand in silence, and retired. He was on the stairs, when he was joined by Peschiera. "Mr. Hazeldean," said the latter, in a low tone, "will you come into the drawing-room?" Frank obeyed. The man employed in his examination of the furniture was still at his task; but at a short whisper from the Count he withdrew. "My dear sir," said Peschiera, "I am so unacquainted with your English laws, and your mode of settling embarrassments of this degrading nature, and you have evidently showed so kind a sympathy in my sister's distress, that I venture to ask you to stay here, and aid me in consulting with Baron Levy." Frank was just expressing his unfeigned pleasure to be of the slightest use, when Levy's knock resounded at the street-door, and in another moment the Baron entered. "Ouf!" said Levy, wiping his brows, and sinking into a chair, as if he had been engaged in toils the most exhausting--"Ouf! this is a very sad business--very; and nothing, my dear Count, nothing but ready money can save us here." "You know my affairs, Levy," replied Peschiera, mournfully shaking his head, "and that though in a few months, or it may be weeks, I could discharge with ease my sister's debts, whatever their amount, yet at this moment, and in a strange land, I have not the power to do so. The money I brought with me is nearly exhausted. Can you not advance the requisite sum?" "Impossible!--Mr. Hazeldean is aware of the distress under which I labor myself." "In that case," said the Count, "all we can do to-day is to remove my sister, and let the execution proceed. Meanwhile, I will go among my friends, and see what I can borrow from them." "Alas!" said Levy, rising and looking out of the window--"alas! we can not remove the Marchesa--the worst is to come. Look!--you see those three men; they have a writ against her person; the moment she sets her foot out of these doors she will be arrested."[4] [4] At that date the law of _mesne process_ existed still. "Arrested!" exclaimed Peschiera and Frank in a breath. "I have done my best to prevent this disgrace, but in vain," said the Baron, looking very wretched. "You see, these English tradespeople fancy they have no hold upon foreigners. But we can get bail; she must not go to prison--" "Prison!" echoed Frank. He hastened to Levy and drew him aside. The Count seemed paralyzed by shame and grief. Throwing himself back on the sofa, he covered his face with his hands.