"Bring him here," answered old Saracinesca, aloud. "There is a gendarme outside," he added, addressing his guests, "he will tell us all the news. Shall we have him here?"
Every one assented enthusiastically to the proposition, for most of those present were anxious about their houses, not knowing what had taken place during the last two hours. The man was ushered in, and stood at a distance holding his three-cornered hat in his hand, and looking rather sheepish and uncomfortable.
"Well?" asked the prince. "What is the matter? We all wish to hear the news."
"Excellency," began the soldier, "I must ask many pardons for appearing thus—-" Indeed his uniform was more or less disarranged and he looked pale and fatigued.
"Never mind your appearance. Speak up," answered old Saracinesca in encouraging tones.
"Excellency," said the man, "I must apologise, but there is a gentleman who calls himself Don Giovanni, of your revered name—-"
"I know there is. He is my son. What about him?"
"He is not the Senior Principe di Sant' Ilario, Excellency—he calls himself by another name—Marchese di—di—here is his card, Excellency."
"My cousin, San Giacinto, then. What about him, I say?"
"Your Excellency has a cousin—-" stammered the gendarme.