“What are you doing here?” “Ah, that is a long story, my good Creespeen,” replied Caliphronas coolly, “and one I do not choose to tell.” “You have some design in your head.” “Assuredly,” said the Count mockingly; “I would not come to this cold island for pleasure.” “Ah, I see you are as great a scoundrel as ever!” Caliphronas laughed, and seemed in no wise offended at the scornful tone of the other. For such an epithet an Englishman would have struck its utterer, but Caliphronas did not even frown. The only notice he took of Crispin’s rudeness was to raise his eyebrows in mocking surprise. “You have still a bad opinion of me, I see.” “The very worst!” “What a truly good young man you are!” said the Count sardonically. “I regret that you should be forced to keep company with such a scamp as I am; but I am afraid you will have to make up your mind to that or—go away.” “I shall certainly not do the latter until I find out the reason of your presence in this place.” “Then, my dear friend, you will have to stay here forever.” “Are you going to stay here forever?” “I! no. I am down here on business.” “With the Rector?—with Roylands? with whom?” The Count looked at him with a provoking smile, and flung himself on the grass at the foot of the oak against which Crispin was leaning. “Perhaps with both; perhaps with neither.” “Now you listen to me, Caliphronas,—as that is the name you choose to go by; both Mr. Carriston and Mr. Roylands are friends of mine, and if you have come down here with any bad design in your head against either of them, I will make it my business to thwart you.” “Do so by all means, if you can.” “I can do so by a very simple means, though you seem to doubt it,” said Crispin quietly. “You brought an excellent letter of introduction to Mr. Carriston, though how you came by it I do not know. You have made friends with Roylands, who is a simple fellow, by consenting to be his model for Endymion”— “And a very good model too,” interrupted Caliphronas, looking at himself complacently. “I don’t deny your outward goodliness;—it is a pity your mind is not in keeping. But to come back to what I was saying. You have made friends with both the gentlemen I speak of, and perhaps such friendship is necessary to your plans; if so. I will end it.” “How will you manage that?” said the Count coolly, but with a nasty glitter in his eyes. “Simply by telling them who you are and what you are.” “You will not do that!” “I will, if your designs are bad.” “How do you know my designs are bad?” “Because to a man of your nature goodness is impossible.” “I would not go so far as to say it is impossible,” said Caliphronas, with a sneer, “but I agree with you that it is improbable. To my mind, goodness is a weakness.” “One you don’t possess, I’m afraid.”