He held out the letter to Antonio---just long enough for the youth to be certain that it really was his old preceptor's hand. He might not see what immediately followed; that according to all human calculation Antonio could not possibly be the son that Giraldi had so long lost, and whom he had so eagerly sought after, and still sought in spite of all disappointments, and for whose recovery no reward was too great. As if overcome with emotion, he had thrown the letter into the drawer and stretched out both his hands: "Now go, in God's name, my son, and remember that no father could more truly mean well towards you than I do!" Antonio bent down and kissed the outstretched hands, moved and conquered by the superior mental power of the man, his mind filled with a confusion of ambitious hopes and dazzling dreams of satisfied love, as quickly followed by the fear that all was but a dream and an illusion, and that this great magician was playing with him, as he himself as a boy had often, enough done with a bird fluttering on a string. He was gone. Giraldi touched the bell. François came in. "I told you that no one was to come in, without exception!" "Monsieur had always received the young man, and he was so pressing." "It may pass for this time; the next time you commit such a blunder, you are dismissed without appeal--mind that." He locked his letter into his drawer. "I will dress without assistance; see that the carriage is ready in ten minutes." He went into the next room through which Bertalda had previously taken flight. François shook his fist behind him, and then again smiled his fawning smile, as if he would not admit even to himself that he had ventured to threaten the mighty man. CHAPTER XI. "You will see, Carla, he will not come to-day either," said Frau von Wallbach, trying to find if possible a more comfortable position in her arm-chair. "Je le plains, je le blâme, mais----" Carla, who was sitting at the piano, played a scale very softly with her right hand. "And Fräulein von Strummin has also gone away without paying us a farewell visit." "Silly little thing," said Carla, repeating her scale. "And Elsa has never once been here to apologise for the omission." "So much the worse for her," said Carla. "I wash my hands of the blame," said Frau von Wallbach, slowly rising and going into the reception-room which some of the dinner guests were entering. Carla was also getting up, but remained sitting when she heard that it was a lady, and moreover one of little importance. She let her hands fall into her lap, and looked thoughtfully down before her. "He is not half so clever, he often evidently does not understand what I say; I think even he is _un peu bête_. But he--adores me. Why should I give up my adorers for a betrothed who never troubles himself about me? He would soon drive them all away."