gone, uttering curses the most plebeian, gnashing his teeth, and foaming
at the mouth, nothing seemed left of the brilliant Lothario but the
coarse fury of the fierce natural man.

Then still preserving that air and tone of exquisite imperturbable irony,
which the highest comedian might have sought to imitate in vain, Harley
bowed low to the storming count.

"Adieu, Monsieur le Comte, adieu! The vessel which you have honoured me
by entering is bound to Norway. The Italians who accompany you were sent
by yourself into exile, and, in return, they now kindly promise to
enliven you with their society, whenever you feel somewhat tired of your
own. Conduct the count to his cabin. Gently there, gently. Adieu,
Monsieur le Comte, adieu! et bon voyage."

Harley turned lightly on his heel, as Peschiera, in spite of his
struggles, was now fairly carried down to the cabin.

"A trick for the trickster," said L'Estrange to the Austrian prince.
"The revenge of a farce on the would-be tragedian."

"More than that,-he is ruined."

"And ridiculous," quoth Harley. "I should like to see his look when they
land him in Norway." Harley then passed towards the centre of the
vessel, by which, hitherto partially concealed by the sailors, who were
now busily occupied, stood Beatrice,--Frank Hazeldean, who had first
received her on entering the vessel, standing by her side; and Leonard, a
little apart from the two, in quiet observation of all that had passed
around him. Beatrice appeared but little to heed Frank; her dark eyes