Whether it was that the suddenness of my appearance unmanned him, or that something in my manner showed there was no time for further deception, he arose to receive me, and handed me a chair.
“I have come, sir,” said I, calmly but resolutely, “to ask if, in the matter which I intrusted to your hands, any progress has been made, or if I am still to be the patient recipient of notes which tell me nothing?”
“What if there be nothing to tell, sir?” said the young diplomatist, now recovering his self-possession, and standing with his back to the fire, in the very easiest of attitudes.
“I will beg of you to be more explicit,” said I.
“You shall not have to complain of me on that score, sir,” said he, with a most affected air of courtesy; “and, as brevity is the very essence of clearness, I may as well state that on representing the case of El Condé de Cregano to the Minister of Spain, he very gravely assured me that I was inventing a personage, for that no such name existed among the nobility of his land. The dignity may be recognized in Mexico,” added he, “but the Mexician Minister is equally perverse, and disclaims having so much as heard of you. I spoke of your wealth and great treasures, and they actually were rude enough to laugh,—not at you, sir, don't be angry,—but at me. The Spanish Ambassador, indeed, said that nothing was more common than for Carlist agents of inferior station to assume styles and titles which might entitle them to greater consideration if taken prisoner, and that in this wise you might have succeeded to your countship; but that to real rank, he persisted in asserting you had no claim whatever. This you must allow, sir, is awkward.”
“For you, certainly, it will prove so,” said I, haughtily. “You may rely upon it, sir, that your career as a diplomatist will end where it begun. You have dared to insult one whose slightest word could crush you, did he not feel that such an exercise of influence would be ludicrously disproportioned to the object it was directed against. There, sir, there is a written statement of my claim; there a full and explicit demand for reparation; and there, the signature of your master the King, at the foot of it. You cannot be ignorant of the hand, nor can you dare to pretend it is a forgery.”
If my insulting language had brought the flush of anger to his cheek, this “damning proof” completely overcame all his presence of mind, and left him in a state of confusion and perplexity that any one, save myself, must have pitied.
“The writing is certainly in the King's hand,” said he, “and therefore I am obliged to concede the fact that your claim possesses features I was not previously aware of; with your leave, then, I will lay this document before the Spanish Minister—”
“You shall do no such thing, sir,” said I, haughtily; “my asserted right is just what it was before I showed you that paper; nor shall I stoop to any corroborative testimony of my claim, even from the hand of royalty;” and with this impertinent speech I advanced towards the grate and thrust the paper into the fire, pressing it down into the blaze with my foot, and watching till I saw it consumed.
The diplomatist watched me narrowly throughout this brief proceeding, and I half feared that he had seen through my stratagem, as he said, “Well, Count, as not a shadow of doubt can exist now as to the authentic character of your demand, the best course will be to have a personal interview with the Spanish Ambassador. He 'receives' this evening at his palace, and, with your leave, we will wait upon him together. Of course the time and place will not admit of any discussion of this claim, but you can be presented,—a necessary preliminary to the intercourse that will follow.”