.

OF HOW I LEFT CANAPLES.
Whilst a man might tell a dozen did those two remain motionless, the one eyeing the other.

But their bearing was as widely different as their figures; Eugene's stalwart frame stood firm and erect, insolence in every line of it, reflected perchance from the smile that lurked about the corners of his thin-lipped mouth.
The hat, which he had not had the grace to doff, set jauntily upon his straight black hair, the jerkin of leather which he wore, and the stout sword which hung from the plainest of belts, all served to give him the air of a ruffler, or tavern knight.
The Chevalier, on the other hand, stood as if turned to stone.

From his enervated fingers the letter fluttered to the ground, and on his pale, thin face was to be read a displeasure mixed with fear.
At length, with an oath, the old man broke the silence.
"What seek you at Canaples ?" he asked in a quivering voice, as he advanced into the room.

"Are you so dead to shame that you dare present yourself with such effrontery?
Off with your hat, sir!" he blazed, stamping his foot, and going from pale to crimson.