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Winterbourne found her in a little crimson drawing room on a third floor; the room was filled with southern sunshine. He had not been there ten minutes when the servant came in, announcing "Madame Mila!" This announcement was presently followed by the entrance of little Randolph Miller, who stopped in the middle of the room and stood staring at Winterbourne.
"My niece, Princess Mila Georgovics, Mr. Shannon." Gerald acknowledged the introduction with his deepest bow. He was dazzled. He had come to this dreary place to talk politics. But now this was out of the question. And he began explaining to the Princess; Mila he had fancied was some slattern waiting on the old fanatic of a prince.
Several other similar sets were formed at the same time; one of which, composed of the younger people, was led by little Mila; nor was it the least lively or joyous of them all.
Now are you satisfied?" he added, as his questioner turned red and then paled as if the news were too startling for his nerves. "Come in, come in!" he cried. "Mila, Mila, here is a guest. Fetch tea to the laboratory." He literally dragged Shannon within doors and led him across a stone corridor to a large room, but not before he had bolted and barred the entrance to his mysterious fortress.
The young Italian stood by, anxiously listening to these observations, for her heart beat eagerly for the return of him who commanded the vessel of which they spoke, and dark were the forebodings of disaster which oppressed her at his long absence. "Then you think she is the Sea Hawk?" exclaimed Mila. "I pray she may be, for the sweet lady's sake."
In 1456 Calixtus III bestowed the purple upon two members of the Mila family: the Bishop Juan of Zamora, who died in 1467, in Rome, where his tomb may still be seen in S. Maria di Monserrato, and on the youthful Juan Luis. Rodrigo Borgia also received the purple in the same year.
Keep your own counsel as before; and no one will suspect you." Mila nodded, took up the keys, and slipped noiselessly back to the house tenanted by her grandfather. Fleetwood tried to follow the example of his friends, but it was not till daylight broke that he closed his eyes in a deep slumber. "Humph," muttered old Vlacco, as he came into the room in the morning rubbing his eyes.
Her Maltese attendant had accompanied young Mila to a short distance from the castle but she was not alone. A figure knelt at her feet in the attitude of the deepest devotion; his head was bowed down to the ground, and sobs burst from his bosom: it was the young Italian, whom we have known under the name of Paolo.
Mila, do you know if your chief left the harbour since I came here?" The latter sentence she spoke in her broken Romaic, and in a tone which showed her agitation. "Yes, lady," answered the Greek girl, "He went on board one of the misticos as soon as he reached the harbour, and immediately set sail."
They waited accordingly for some time, during which some person was heard moving slowly about outside, when little Mila again exclaimed, as loud as she could call, "Vlacco, Vlacco! let me out, I say, grandfather; you have bolted the door, as if a storm was blowing to burst it open."
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