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Lucien told me his brother's address, 7, Rue du Helder, and gave me a letter which I undertook to deliver personally. We parted with great cordiality, and a week later I was back in Paris. III. The Fate of Louis I was startled by the extraordinary resemblance of M. Louis de Franchi, whom I had at once called upon, to his brother.
Presently she became aware of another bowed figure near hers a stately female figure and almost without looking knew it for Helena de' Franchi. "I, too, loved him, Signora de' Franchi," she said simply. "Art thou Miriam? He hath spoken of thee." Helena's silvery voice was low and trembling. "Ay, Signora." Helena's tears flowed unrestrainedly. "Alas! Alas! the Dreamer!
She went on rapidly, "It is rumored in the Ghetto thou art to be a friar of St. Dominic. Shloumi the Droll brought the news." "It is so, Miriam. I am to take the vows at once." "But how canst thou become a priest? Thou lovest a woman." He stopped in his walk, startled. "What sayest thou, Miriam?" "Nay, this is no time for denials. I know her. I know thy love for her. It is Helena de' Franchi."
All she contributed to it was, between bites, a cheerful nod now and then at Henry to show that she agreed with him. "Yours," said Dr. Franchi, "is not, perhaps, the most natural view of life. It is more natural to see people in large groups, with definite characteristic markings, according to period, age, nationality, sex, or what not.
"Count Nobili," called out Franchi, from the other end of the portico, making a languid bow, "after all that I have heard, I congratulate you on your marriage most sincerely." Nobili did not hear him. All were gone. He was alone with Ruspoli. His head had dropped upon his breast. There was the shadow of a tear in Prince Ruspoli's steely eye.
Nicholas, "within sight of the snow-capped peaks of the Apennines, in an old palace, the Villa de Franchi, immediately overlooking the Mediterranean, with olive-clad hills at the back; on the left, the great promontory of Porto Fino; on the right, the Bay of Genoa, some twelve miles away, and the long line of the Apennines sloping down into the sea.
"More news!" cried Malatesta. "Gracious heavens! Wave after wave it comes! a mighty sea. I hear the distant roar it dashes high! It breaks! Speak, oh, speak, Adonis!" "The Marchesa Guinigi has left Lucca suddenly." "Who cares? Do you, Pietrino?" asked Franchi of Orsetti, with a contemptuous glance at Baldassare. "Let him speak," cried Malatesta; "Baldassare is an oracle."
A cheerful girl, thought Henry. "Viva the League of Nations!" she cried, and drank brightly of her marsala. Dr. Franchi, with an indulgent smile for youthful exuberance, drank too. "The hope for the world," he said. "You don't drink this toast, Mr. Beechtree?" "My paper," said Henry, "believes that such hope for the world as there may be lies elsewhere." "Ah, your paper. And you yourself?"
He would be there when the detective, the police, the committee, and the press arrived at the château, and the party would be conducted there at once, to surprise the host and his guests at meat. The delegate from Costa Rica had asked the detective if they should all bring weapons, but Signor Cristofero had said no. "Quite unnecessary. Franchi does not go armed.
The rest I knew, and I could only assent mournfully that things must go on, and that the proposals of Château-Renard's seconds could not be declined. But M. Louis de Franchi had never touched sword or pistol in his life! However, there was nothing for it but to return M. de Châteaugrand's call. Martelli and I found that Château-Renard's two supporters were both polite men of the world.
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