"Hare-like fright," said Arabella, raising her shoulders. "I wonder at you, Carlo, when you look upon what we are, and reflect upon what we have been. Everybody in Vienna admires and envies us. The highest nobles of the land are our willing guests, and the emperor himself (dit-on) has fallen in love with the Countess Baillou. Oh, Carlo! Is it not enough to make all the gods of Olympus laugh?"
"You are right," replied Podstadsky, encouraged. "The emperor's visit here to-night will silence the clamor of my creditors."
"Creditors! What of them? Was there ever a nobleman without creditors! They are one of the appendages of rank. And, then, Carlo—if your creditors annoy you, what prevents you from paying them?"
Podstadsky shuddered. "Do you mean—"
"What is the matter with the man?" asked Arabella, as he paused, and she saw how ghastly he looked. "Of course, I mean you to pay as you have paid before. Pay, and pay promptly. Then when every thing—furniture, plate, jewels, horses, and equipages are ours, we sell out, and realize our fortune in GOLD—(no bank-notes, Carlo)—and, then, we take up our abode in the city of cities—Paris! Gold—gold! There is—"
A light knock was heard at the door. The countess disappeared, and the count put out his head. It was his steward, who announced that a lady, closely veiled, wished to speak with Count Podstadsky on urgent business.
"Show her into the anteroom. The Countess Baillou will do me the favor to receive her."
"My lord," said the steward, "the lady wishes to see you alone."
"Indeed? Then show her in here."
The steward retired, and the count stepped into one of the lighted rooms. The countess came forward, smiling.