"Why this exaggerated timidity, pray?" said the marquis, fixing his eyes upon Michel's with an expression of penetrating intelligence, in which a touch of severity was mingled with kindliness; "can it be that Michel is afraid that you or I would make him blush because he is not yet as respectable as his father? You are young, my boy, and no one can expect to find in you the virtues for which the noble-hearted Pier-Angelo is admired and loved; but your intelligence and your excellent sentiments are enough to justify you in going anywhere with confidence, without being compelled to efface yourself in your father's shadow. However, have no fear; your father has already promised to come to dine with me the day after to-morrow. Will it be convenient for you to accompany him on that day?" Michel having accepted, struggling the while to conceal his confusion and surprise beneath an affected ease of manner, the marquis added: "Now allow me to tell you that we shall dine together on the sly: your father was accused of conspiracy long ago; I am an object of suspicion to the government; we still have enemies who may accuse us again of conspiring." "Well, good-night, Michelangelo, we shall meet again soon," said the princess, observing Michel's bewilderment; "be charitable enough to believe that we know how to appreciate real merit, and that we did not wait for yours to be revealed before discovering your father's. Your father has been our friend for many years, and if he does not eat at my table every day, it is because I fear to expose him to persecution by his enemies by making him conspicuous." Michel was perturbed and out of countenance, although he would not for anything in the world have given the impression that he was dazzled by the sudden favors of fortune; but at heart he felt humiliated rather than overjoyed by the affectionate lesson he had received. "For it was a lesson," he said to himself, when the princess and the marquis, being accosted by other guests, had walked away, after bidding him good-night with a friendly nod; "these wise and philosophical grandees gave me to understand clearly enough that their affability is a mark of homage bestowed upon my father rather than myself. I am invited on his account, not he on mine; so that it is not my merit which procures me these marks of distinction, but my father's virtuous qualities. O God! forgive me for the proud thoughts that led me to desire to enter upon my career apart from him! I was mad, I was wicked; I have received a most useful lesson from these great nobles, upon whom I sought to impose respect for my origin, and who have, or pretend to have, a more heartfelt respect for it than I have myself."