"A countryman—what! are you a Scotchman?'
"Born and bred, sir," said he, laying aside his Italian, and with an effort recalling the strong northern dialect of his boyhood. "I was called Duncan Catanach, and in happier days dwelt near Lochaber, in old Caledonia; which I would fain behold once more before I die."
The eyes of the old man glistened, and we shook hands with all the brotherly warmth of heart with which Scot greets Scot in a foreign land.
"I rejoice to meet in this place a subject of old George III."
"I am no subject of his! the petty princes—"
"Ha! some follower of Watt, who was beheaded for treason—eh?"
"No!" he replied, proudly and sternly; "I follow no traitor—nor do I participate in treason!" At that moment his master's bell rang loudly, and he hurriedly withdrew.
CHAPTER XX.
THE CARDINAL.
In a few minutes he led me back to the presence of my host. A slight repast had been hastily laid for me in a snug little library, the walls of which were adorned with a few trophies of arms and portraits, some of them veiled by crimson curtains; but I was too much interested in the cold fowls, the sparkling wine, and other viands displayed on the snowy table-cloth, to bestow a thought upon anything else. On entering, I bowed profoundly to his eminence, who occupied a large gilt chair, cushioned with crimson velvet. Catanio seated himself at the table to help me.