“Possibly; but perhaps my news is later. What I allude to is said to have occurred the day I started.” “Ah, very true; and now I remember that the messenger came round by Vienna, sent there by Adderley, doubtless,” muttered he, “to consult Conway before seeing _me_; and, I have little doubt, with a letter for _me_ in the event of Conway declining.” “Well, have you hit upon the solution of it?” said Har-court, who had not followed him through his half-uttered observation. “Perhaps so,” said Upton, slowly, while he leaned his head upon his hand, and fell into a fit of meditation. Meanwhile, Harcourt's dinner made its appearance, and the Colonel seated himself at the table with a traveller's appetite. “Whenever any one has called you a selfish fellow, Upton,” said he, as he helped himself twice from the same dish, “I have always denied it, and on this good ground, that, had you been so, you had never kept the best cook in Europe, while unable to enjoy his talents. What a rare artist must this be! What's his name?” “Pipo, how is he called?” said Upton, languidly. “Monsieur Carmael, your Excellency.” “Ah, to be sure; a person of excellent family. I've been told he's from Provence,” said Upton, in the same weary voice. “I could have sworn to his birthplace,” cried Harcourt; “no man can manage cheese and olives in cookery but a Provençal. Ah, what a glass of Bordeaux! To your good health, Upton, and to the day that you may be able to enjoy this as I do,” said he, as he tossed off a bumper. “It does me good even to witness the pleasure it yields,” said Upton, blandly. “By Jove! then, I 'll be worth a whole course of tonics to you, for I most thoroughly appreciate all the good things you have given me. By the way, how are you off for dinner company here,--any pleasant people?” “I have no health for pleasant people, my dear Harcourt; like horse exercise, they only agree with you when you are strong enough not to require them.” “Then what have you got?” asked the Colonel, somewhat abashed. “Princes, generals, envoys, and heads of departments.” “Good heavens! legions of honor and golden fleeces!” “Just so,” said Upton, smiling at the dismay in the other's countenance; “I have had such a party as you describe to-day. Are they gone yet, Franchetti?” “They're at coffee, your Excellency, but the Prince has ordered his carriage.” “And you did not go near them?” asked Harcourt, in amazement. “No; I was poorly, as you see me,” said Upton, smiling. “Pipo tells me, however, that the dinner was a good one, and I am sure they pardon my absence.” “Foreign ease, I've no doubt; though I can't say I like it,” muttered Harcourt. “At all events, it is not for _me_ to complain, since the accident has given me the pleasure of your society.” “You are about the only man I could have admitted,” said Upton, with a certain graciousness of look and manner that, perhaps, detracted a little from its sincerity.