“There, there; don't you see the--the inappropriateness of what you are doing? Even in England a man is not asked to criminate himself. How many are coming?” “Nineteen; the 'Nonce' is ill, and has sent an apology.” “Then the party can be eighteen, Brockett; you must tell them that I am ill,--too ill to come to dinner. I know the Prince Max very well,--he 'll not take it badly; and as to Cineselli, we shall see what humor he is in!” “But they 'll know that you arrived here this afternoon; they 'll naturally suppose--” “They 'll naturally suppose--if people ever do anything so intensely stupid as naturally to suppose anything--that I am the best judge of my own health; and so, Mr. Brockett, you may as well con over the terms by which you may best acquaint the company with the reasons for my absence; and if the Prince proposes a visit to me in the evening, let him come; he 'll find me here in my own room. Would you do me the kindness to let Antinori fetch his cupping-glasses, and tell Franchetti also that I 'll take my chicken grilled, not roasted. I'll look over the treaty in the evening. One mushroom, only one, he may give me, and the Carlsbad water, at 28 degrees. I 'm very troublesome, Brockett, but I 'm sure you 'll excuse it. Thanks, thanks;” and he pressed the Secretary's hand, and gave him a smile, whose blandishment had often done good service, and would do so again! To almost any other man in the world this interruption to his journey--this sudden tidings of a formally-arranged dinner which he could not or would not attend--would have proved a source of chagrin and dissatisfaction. Not so with Upton; he liked a “contrariety.” Whatever stirred the still waters of life, even though it should be a head-wind, was far more grateful than a calm! He laughed to himself at the various comments his company were sure to pass over his conduct; he pictured to his mind the anger of some and the astonishment of others, and revelled in the thought of the courtier-like indignation such treatment of a Royal Highness was certain to elicit. “But who can answer for his health?” said he, with an easy laugh to himself. “Who can promise what he may be ten days hence?” The appearance of his dinner--if one may dignify by such a name the half of a chicken, flanked by a roasted apple and a biscuit--cut short his lucubrations; and Sir Horace ate and sipped his Carlsbad with as much enjoyment as many another man has felt over venison and Chambertin. “Are they arrived, Pipo?” said he, as his servant removed the dessert of two figs and a lime. “Yes, your Excellency, they are at table.” “How many are there?” “Seventeen, sir, and Mr. Brockett.” “Did the Prince seem to--to feel my absence, Pipo?” “I thought he appeared very sorry for your Excellency when Mr. Brockett spoke to him, and he whispered something to the aide-de-camp beside him.” “And the others, how did they take it?”