He threw down his paper, and raising his glasses, gazed with astonishment at Mascarin, who, with his hat in his hand and his heart in his mouth, slowly crossed the room, muttering a few unintelligible apologies.

He could make nothing, however, of his visitor, and said, "Whom do you wish to see, sir ?" "The Count de Mussidan," stuttered Mascarin; "and I hope that you will forgive this intrusion." The Count cut his excuse short with a haughty wave of his hand.

"Wait," said he imperiously.

He then with evident pain rose from his seat, and crossing the room, rang the bell violently, and then reseated himself.
Mascarin, who still remained in the centre of the room, inwardly wondered if after all he was to be turned out of the house.

In another second the door opened, and the figure of the faithful Florestan appeared.
"Florestan," said the Count, angrily, "this is the first time that you have permitted any one to enter this room without my permission; if this occurs again, you leave my service." "I assure your lordship," began the man.
"Enough! I have spoken; you know what to expect." During this brief colloquy, Mascarin studied the Count with the deepest attention.
The Count Octave de Mussidan in no way resembled the man sketched by Florestan.