"I am singularly fortunate, madame," said Rodolph, approaching Clemence, "to find you at home to-night; and I am still more delighted with my good fortune, since it procures me the pleasure of meeting you, also, my dear Albert," continued he, turning to the marquis, and shaking him cordially by the hand. "It is, indeed, some time since I have had the honour of paying my respects to your royal highness." "If the truth must be spoken, my dear Albert," said the prince, smilingly, "you are somewhat platonic in your friendships, and, relying on the certain attachment of your friends, care very little about either giving or receiving any outward proof of affection." By a breach of etiquette, which somewhat annoyed Madame d'Harville, a servant here entered the room with a letter for the marquis. It was the anonymous epistle of Sarah, accusing Rodolph of being the lover of Madame d'Harville. The marquis, out of deference for the prince, put away with his hand the small silver salver presented to him by the servant, saying, in an undertone: "Another time,--another time." "My dear Albert," said Rodolph, in a voice of the most genuine affection, "why all this ceremony with me?" "My lord!" "With Madame d'Harville's permission, let me beg of you to read your letter without delay." "I assure you, my lord, it is not of the slightest consequence." "Again I say, Albert, read your letter all the same for my being here." "But, my lord, indeed--" "Nay, I ask you to do so; or, if you will have it, I desire you to read it immediately." "If your highness commands it, my duty is obedience," said the marquis, taking the letter from the salver. "Yes, I positively command you to treat me as one old friend ought to treat another." Then turning towards Madame d'Harville, while the marquis was breaking the seal of the fatal letter, the contents of which were, of course, unknown to Rodolph, he said, smilingly, to Madame d'Harville: "What a triumph for you, madame, to bend this untractable spirit, and make it bow to your very caprice!" M. d'Harville having opened Sarah's infamous letter, approached the wax-lights burning on the mantelpiece, the better to read it. His features bore no visible mark of agitation as he perused the vile scrawl. A slight trembling of the hand alone was visible, as, after a short hesitation, he refolded the paper and placed it in the pocket of his waistcoat. "At the risk of passing for a perfect Goth," said he, with a smile, to Rodolph, "I will ask you to excuse me, my lord, while I retire to reply to this letter, which is more important than it at first appeared." "Shall I not see you again this evening?" "I am fearful I shall not have that honour, my lord; and I trust your royal highness will condescend to excuse me." "What a slippery person you are!" cried Rodolph, gaily. "Will you not, madame, endeavour to prevent his quitting us?" "Nay, I dare not attempt that your highness has failed to accomplish."