That Prince Ernest should have admired Drusilla was not only natural but inevitable, since every one who was brought into her company did the same; that he should have testified this admiration with continental enthusiasm seemed almost excusable; but that his sentiments went further, or that Drusilla would have tolerated any attentions unworthy to be received by her, Alexander in his sober senses could not believe. Now that like the prodigal of Holy Writ he had come to himself, he perceived that his jealousy, like every other passion of his soul, had been insane in its excess and frantic in its exhibition. Now how fervently he thanked Heaven that the duel into which his temporary madness had driven him had not resulted in death to his adversary and blood-guiltiness to himself. But—and this was a very serious question—how had the mad duel affected Drusilla. It was always, he knew, most injurious, even to the most innocent women, to have her name mixed up in any such matter. He himself had been very cautious in this respect; but had others concerned been equally so? And, above all, had the duel got into the newspapers, and, if so, with how much exposure of the circumstances? Of course he could not tell. He longed to know; yet he shrank from asking questions. He would have examined the papers, but they were kept out of his way, and he was forbidden to read. Thus in bitter self-communings, in remorse, in suspense and anxiety, the first days of his convalescence slowly wore away. Francis Tredegar had not returned and he had remained in the hands of the surgeon and the valet. And although he was debarred from reading the newspapers, and forbidden to converse, and so was left in ignorance of the most important matters that concerned him, yet he had learned something of what had transpired near him since the mad duel. He had partly surmised and partly overheard enough to inform him that Prince Ernest, a frequent invalid himself, had at some self-sacrifice dispensed with the invaluable services of his own medical attendant, that he, Alexander, might have the advantage of that surgeon’s constant presence at his bedside. And this circumstance led Alexander to a true appreciation and respect for the Austrian, who was as noble by nature as he was by descent. And there was something else he had to learn. CHAPTER XXIX. ALEXANDER’S DISCOVERIES. Thou turnest mine eyes into my very soul, And there I see such black and grained spots, As will not leave their tinct.—SHAKESPEARE. One morning when he, Alick, seemed better and stronger that usual, the surgeon seated himself by his bedside and said: “I should tell you that you were not forgotten or abandoned by your family while you were in danger, sir.” “By my family——! I have——” Alexander was about to say, “no family,” but he caught himself in time.