“Not exactly. This Caliphronas is a splendid-looking fellow, and I asked him to sit to me for my statue of Endymion.” “Oh! is he worthy to be a model?” “My dear Crispin, he has the most perfect figure for a man I ever saw in my life; wonderfully handsome, and with a wild, untamed air about him that is quite unique.” Crispin listened to this speech without moving a muscle, but a strange look came into his eyes. “Have you ever read ‘A Strange Story,’ by Lytton?” he asked abruptly. “Yes, several times,” replied Maurice, somewhat astonished at the irrelevancy of the question. “Then does this man resemble Margrave, the hero of the book?” “In what way?” “In every way except the mysticism. Is he an ardent lover of Nature? Does he talk a lot about classical times? Is he impulsive and utterly selfish?” “As to the last quality, I have not yet had an opportunity of judging, but for the rest, you have described him exactly.” “Caliphronas!” murmured Crispin in a pondering manner. “Do you know him?” Crispin did not answer at once, and seemed to be making up his mind as to what he would say. At last he turned to Maurice with an enigmatic smile on his face, and shrugged his shoulders. “Not as far as I can recollect. That description I have given as applied to Margrave would suit a good many Greeks. They are mostly handsome, and, especially among the islands, from living so much in the open air, imbibe a great love for Nature. Naturally, as they have no modern glories to talk about, they boast of ancient times and ancient heroism. They are all impulsive, so you see I simply described the Greek at large, not this one in particular.” “But you have described him exactly.” “I tell you the description suits any Greek, as I have explained.” “Then you don’t know this man?” “No; I know no one of the name of Caliphronas,” replied Crispin, with a slight emphasis on the last word. Maurice did not notice the quibble, and with cheerful good-humor dismissed the subject from his mind, as, after all, this mystery, with which he enveloped the Count, might turn out to be but an unworthy suspicion. Plenty of Greeks come to England, and one more or less did not matter. He would trouble his head no more about this man who had dropped from the clouds into this dull little village, but make use of him as a model, and then say good-by to him with the best grace in the world. Once he left the Grange, it was unlikely he would ever cross his path again, as Maurice had not the slightest intention of going to Greece, and looked forward to a humdrum life at Roylands for the next few years. How little did he know what was in store for him, and that from this appearance of Count Caliphronas dated a new era in his life. Meanwhile, Crispin, who in reality knew a good deal more than he chose to tell, was watching him keenly. “You must not relapse into your gloomy fits again,” he said, laying his hand lightly on his friend’s arm.