“I cannot say that his appearance particularly pleased me, but you know I only saw him eating his dinner; he seemed, however, to have an uncommonly good opinion of himself!” “At all events,” said Crescenz, “it was very obliging of him to take us in his carriage. I am sure if _you_ had travelled with him instead of me, you would think quite differently.” “Dear Crescenz! I have no doubt that he was agreeable, as you say so; and I agree with you in thinking him very civil, and all that sort of thing, but you cannot force me to think him handsome.” “I did not say that I thought him handsome,” cried Crescenz, deprecatingly. “No! Something very like it, then. Let me see, hum—a—most interesting person you ever saw; brilliant dark eyes, with long eyelashes; magnificent teeth, beautiful mouth, refined manners, and ever so much more! Now, I think him an effeminate-looking, supercilious boy, and——” “Oh, I might have foreseen,” cried Crescenz, interrupting her sister, “I might have foreseen that he would find no favour in your eyes, as he is not an officer with a long sword clattering at his side.” “Sword or no sword,” answered the other, laughing, “he would not look like anything but an overgrown schoolboy, perhaps a student, or—an embryo _attaché_ to an embassy.” Hamilton’s blush of annoyance was concealed by the darkness. “I intended,” began Crescenz, hesitatingly, “I intended to have told you something, but you seem to be so prejudiced against him that——” “Prejudiced! Not in the least. I do not think him particularly handsome, that’s all!” “Well, you know I told you we talked a great deal during our journey, and—and a—in short, just as we reached Seon he said something about meeting me in the corridor by moonlight.” “Just what I should have expected from him!” cried the other, angrily. “How presuming on so short an acquaintance?” “He is an Englishman,” said Crescenz, apologetically; “and certainly did not mean anything wrong, for his manner did not change in the least when he saw mamma, while I was so dreadfully afraid that she might observe—Oh! Hildegarde! What is that? Did you not hear something moving?” “I think I did; let us listen.” A pause ensued. “It’s only the thunder-storm, and”—taking a long breath—“the ticking of the great clock.” “How like someone breathing heavily,” exclaimed Crescenz, anxiously. “And how dark it is! We can hardly find our way out,” said Hildegarde.