Sophia frowned. A slight blush mounted to her cheeks. Taking a match, she lit it, and set fire to the paper Milona had handed to her. Thoughtfully, she watched the ashes fly away in the wind. Then she asked— “How is he coming here?” “In a cab. Listen, you may hear the horse’s hoofs already.” The cab stopped in front of the door, and Cesare descended. The cabman waited. Sophia slowly descended the staircase, and found herself in the hall, to receive the handsome Italian. He advanced with shining eyes and eager gait. Carelessly, and with an air of indifference, she held out her hand. “Well, well! my dear,” said he. “Is this the way you receive me after a fortnight’s absence?” “Silence!” she said firmly; “this is no time for nonsense. Hans at this very moment is doubtless risking his life to obtain possession of the powders.” “Have you then succeeded with our young victim?” “You may see for yourself. There will be more to learn later on.” “Diavolo!” Rushing from the room, he exclaimed— “Milo, tell the cabman to wait.” He returned— “Who knows if we shall not need him shortly? As I passed by I saw the town was in the greatest commotion imaginable, and that the works were on fire. Is this accident an invention of yours?” “I believe Hans arranged the whole affair.” “Gay disposition, Hans! He is fond of an attractive _mise en scene_. But I should be glad to have a little lunch; I left Paris quite hurriedly.” “Milona will serve you.” They passed into the dining-room. The table was set, and Cesare took a seat. “Come and talk to me, my beautiful Sophia. Time has weighed heavy on my hands since last I saw you. I have vainly sought for distractions.” “What have you been doing?” “Ah! Trying to win a little money at cards. A kind of fatality seems to pursue me, my bad luck never leaves me, and I cannot touch a card without losing.” “You have lost much?” “Too much! I so easily get excited, you know.” “Well, how much?” asked Sophia, impatiently. The handsome Italian replied with a smile— “Nothing at all, cara; I had the money!” “Who gave it you?” “Lichtenbach. I was obliged to accustom him to my little fancies. When he becomes my father-in-law I shall appeal to him rather often.” “Take care. He may tire.” “He will not be allowed to do so.” “His resources are not inexhaustible.” “You are jesting. I am well acquainted with the source of his wealth.” “Indeed! Who has been informing you?” “A relation of mine, the Very Reverend Monsignor Boldi, whom I saw in Paris a few days ago. Lichtenbach, in addition to his wealth, is a church trustee. I no longer wonder at the influence he wields. He has the disposal of immense sums, and of almost limitless power. But he is not a man of action. He is always hesitating and trembling. Had you seen how terrified he was when I alluded to his position as a kind of ecclesiastical banker, you would have laughed outright. Ah! cara, his brow was covered with perspiration. Whatever can he be afraid of?”