“You must say positively, Scroope, that I admit no one this evening.” “The Signor Morlache wishes to see you, madam,” said a servant. And close behind him, as he spoke, followed that bland personage, bowing gracefully to each as he entered. “Sorry--most sorry--madam, to intrude upon your presence; but the Prince Midchekoff desires to have a glance at the pictures and decorations before he goes away from Florence.” “Will you mention to him that to-morrow, in the afternoon, about five or----” “He leaves this to-morrow morning, madam; and if you could--” [Illustration: 056] But before the Jew could finish his request the door was flung wide, and the great Midchekoff entered, with his hands in his coat-pockets, and his glass in one eye. He sauntered into the room with a most profound unconsciousness that there were people in it. Not a glance did he even bestow on the living figures of the scene, nor did a trait of his manner evince any knowledge of their presence. Ranging his eyes over the walls and the ceilings, he neither noticed the martial attitude of Haggerstone, nor the graceful undulations by which Mrs. Ricketts was, as it were, rehearsing a courtesy before him. “Originals, but all poor things, Morlache,” said the Prince. And really the observation seemed as though uttered of the company rather than the pictures. “Mrs. Ricketts has been good enough, your Highness--” began the Jew. “Give her a Napoleon,” said he, listlessly, and turned away. “My sister, Mrs. Ricketts--Mrs. M-M-Montague Ricketts,” began Scroope, whose habitual timidity gave way under the extremity of provocation. And the Prince turned slowly round, and surveyed the speaker and the imposing form that loomed behind him. “Tell them that I don't mean to keep any establishment here, Morlache.” And with this he strolled on, and passed into another room, while, like as in a tableau, the others stood speechless with rage and indignation. “He took you for the housekeeper, ma'am,” said Haggerstone, standing up with his back to the fire----“and a housekeeper out of place!” “Martha, where's the General? Where is he, I say?” cried Mrs. Ricketts, furious with passion. “He went to bed at nine,” whispered Martha. “He thought, by rising early to-morrow, to finish the attack on Utrecht before night.” “You are as great a fool as himself. Scroope, come here. You must follow that Russian. You must tell him the gross rudeness--” “I'll be ha-ha-hanged if I do. I 've had enough of rows, for one winter at least. I 'll not get into another sc-scrape, if I can help it.” “I 'm sorry, madam, that I cannot offer you my services,” said Haggerstone, “but I never meddle in a quarrel which can be made a subject of ridicule. Mr. Foglass, I 'm certain, has no such scruple.” “The Prince appears a very agreeable man,” said the ex-Consul, who, not having the slightest notion of what was passing, merely followed his instincts of praising the person of high rank.