"Certainly."
"My dear don Adolfo," the count continued, "as you are aware, I am a nobleman; in France the king is only the first gentleman of his kingdom, the primus inter pares, and I suppose that it is much the same everywhere now; any attack upon one of the members of the nobility affects the sovereign as seriously as all the other nobles of the empire. When the Regent of France condemned Count de Horn to be broken alive on the wheel upon the Place de Grève, for robbing and murdering a Jew in the Rue Quincampoix, he replied to a nobleman of the court, who interceded with him on behalf of the culprit, and represented to him that the Count de Horn, allied to reigning families, was his relative: 'When I have any bad blood, I have it taken from me;' and turned his back on the petitioner. But this did not prevent the nobility from sending their carriages to the execution of Count de Horn. Now, the fact you are talking about is nearly similar, with this exception, that the Emperor of Austria, less brave than the Regent of France, while allowing that justice ought to be dealt upon the culprit, recoiled from a publicity, which, according to his views, would brand a stigma of infamy upon the entire nobility of his country; hence, like all weak men, he satisfied himself with half measures, that is to say, he probably gave the count a blank signature, by means of which the latter, on the first plausible pretext, might put down his noble relative, kill him, or even have him assassinated, without other form of trial, and in this way, obtain by the destruction of his enemy the justice he claimed; since, the Prince once dead, it would be easy to restore to his sister-in-law or her son, in the event of his being recovered, the titles and fortune which his uncle had so criminally appropriated. This, in my opinion, is what was arranged between the Emperor and the count at the long audience granted at Schönbrunn."
"Matters turned out so in reality, Count, with the exception that the Emperor insisted that hostilities should not commence between the count and the Prince until the latter was beyond the frontiers of the empire, and the count requested the Emperor to place at his disposal all the means of action he possessed, in order to try and find his nephew again, if he still lived, and to this the Emperor consented."
"The count returned then to his castle, provided with a blank signature of his Majesty, which gave him the most extensive powers to carry out his vengeance, and in addition, with an order entirely in his Majesty's handwriting, empowering him to obtain the aid of all the imperial agents, both at home and abroad, at the first requisition. The count, as you of course understand, was but moderately satisfied with the conditions which the Emperor had imposed on him; but recognizing the impossibility of obtaining more, he was obliged to give way. For himself, he would have certainly preferred, whatever might have been the consequence, a public trial, to the paltry and disgraceful vengeance that was permitted him; but it was better, in the interests of his sister and nephew, to have obtained these semi-concessions, than to meet with a formal refusal. He immediately set to work in search of his nephew, for this search the papers which Red Arm had handed him, contained precious information. Without saying anything to his sister, through fear of giving her false hopes, he immediately went about his task. What more shall I tell you, my friends? His search was long, and is still going on; still the situation is beginning to grow clearer, and has been so fortunate as to find his nephew again: since this discovery, he has never let the young man out of sight, although the latter is ignorant to this day of the sacred bonds which attach him to the man who has brought him up, and whom he loves like a father, the count has kept this secret even from his sister, not wishing to reveal it to her till he can announce at the same time that justice has at length been done, and that the husband she has deplored for so many years is avenged. Very frequently, since that period, the two enemies have met, many opportunities have been offered the count to kill his foe, but he has never let himself be led astray by his hatred, or, to speak more truly, his hatred has given him the strength to wait; the count wishes to kill his enemy, but he desires first that the latter should dishonour himself and fall, not conquered in an honourable contest, but justly struck, like a criminal, who at last receives the chastisement of his misdeeds."
After uttering the last words the adventurer stopped. There was a lengthened silence; night was coming to an end, white gleams were beginning to filter through the half-open window; the light of the candles was growing pale; indistinct noises announced that the city was awaking, and the distant bells of monasteries and churches were summoning the faithful to early mass. The adventurer left his chair and began walking up and down the room, every now and then casting searching glances at his two companions. Dominique, thrown back in his butaca, with his eyes half closed, was mechanically smoking his Indian pipe. Count de la Saulay was playing the devil's tattoo on the table, while watching the adventurer's movements.
"Don Adolfo," he suddenly said to him, as he raised his head and looked him full in the face, "your story has ended then?"
"Yes," the adventurer answered, laconically.
"You have nothing more to add?"
"No."
"Well, excuse me, my friend, but I fancy you are mistaken."