Randal arrived at the ambassador's before the Count, and contrived to mix with the young noblemen attached to the embassy, and to whom he was known. Standing among these was a young Austrian, on his travels, of very high birth, and with an air of noble grace that suited the ideal of the old German chivalry. Randal was presented to him, and, after some talk on general topics, observed, "By the way, Prince, there is now in London a countryman of yours, with whom you are doubtless familiarly acquainted—the Count di Peschiera."
"He is no countryman of mine. He is an Italian. I know him but by sight and by name," said the Prince, stiffly.
"He is of very ancient birth, I believe."
"Unquestionably. His ancestors were gentlemen."
"And very rich."
"Indeed! I have understood the contrary. He enjoys, it is true, a large revenue."
A young attaché, less discreet than the Prince, here observed, "Oh, Peschiera!—Poor fellow, he is too fond of play to be rich."
"And there is some chance that the kinsman whose revenue he holds, may obtain his pardon, and re-enter into possession of his fortunes—so I hear, at least," said Randal, artfully.
"I shall be glad if it be true," said the Prince with decision; "and I speak the common sentiment at Vienna. That kinsman had a noble spirit, and was, I believe, equally duped and betrayed. Pardon me, sir; but we Austrians are not so bad as we are painted. Have you ever met in England the kinsman you speak of?"
"Never, though he is supposed to reside here; and the Count tells me that he has a daughter."