One of us.

Chapter I

It was between 1860-70, and in Rome. Society had split up into the monde noir and the monde blanc, and had not yet assumed the slightest appearance of reuniting in a monde gris.

The Holy Father had intrenched himself in the Vatican, behind his prestige of martyrdom. The King had begun to hold his court at the Quirinal.

Among the most distinguished Austrian families wintering in Rome were the Otto Ilsenberghs. Count Otto Ilsenbergh, one of the chiefs of Austrian feudalism, was residing in Rome ostensibly for his health, but, in reality, to be at the fountain-head of the Vatican for the purpose of compiling a certain “ History of Miracles,” which has recently been published under a certain curious pseudonym. He had taken up his abode with the countess and a whole regiment of big and little auburn-haired

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Ilsenberghs on the Corso in Palazzo — an immense historical mansion with cold stone staircases and spacious suites of apartments, seeming', by reason of their vastness, far more suited to gatherings of conspirators than to harmless routes and dances.

The countess received every evening, when nothing more amusing was on the tapis. She was by birth a Princess Anerstein, of' the line of Anerstein-Zolling, whose women are noted for their white eyebrows and their rigid notions of morality.

The Ilsenbergh soirees were very popular; there was an atmosphere of ease about them. Smoking was allowed in the drawing-room — the countess herself smoked, sometimes even regalias.

It was the beginning of December. The heavy rain came dashing audibly against the windows. In a spacious apartment, far too large for comfort, the walls of which were decorated with frescoes, sat Count Ilsenbergh at a dainty davenport, evidently only intended for the fabrication of love letters, writing busily at an article for Our Times , a journal of strong feudal proclivities, patronized by the count and supported by the Austrian nobility, but read by no one, save hy the Liberal press when on the hunt after reactionary extravagances.

Count Ilsenbergh was in low spirits. Austrian statecraft had just crowned its ever-brilliant achievements by proclaiming for the fourth time within the last three years a “ New Era,” and, throwing all established convictions to the

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winds, had gathered together an ultra-Liberal Ministry, who not only made the largest of promises, but would inevitably swell the ranks of the Ring Strasse salons by the addition of some half-dozen new-made peers. Count Ilsenbergh prophesied the end of the world.

The countess, reclining in an easy-chair by the fireplace, a piece of marvelously exquisite Renaissance workmanship, was reading. The choicest editions of Mommsen and Ampere lay scattered about upon the tables, but the book in her hand was a well-worn novel from the circulating library.

A tall, fresh-colored, sandy-haired woman of somewhat large proportions and insignificant features, but with small, well-shaped hands and feet, Countess Ilsenbergh spoke French and German with a strong Viennese accent. Her style of dress was old-fashioned and her movements heavy ; yet withal, to the initiated eye, she was unmistakably the lady and aristocrat. An imposing feature at all court festivities, she never stumbled over her train, and bore the weight of the family diamonds with high-born indifference. The portiere was drawn back, and General von Klinger announced.

General von Klinger was an old Austrian cavalryman who, having had the good fortune to distinguish himself and his regiment at Sadowa, had, in disgust at the subsequent “national disgrace,” sent in his resignation ; and had since devoted himself and his title of general, conferred upon him on his resignation, to the study of painting.

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As an army man he had been looked upon as an artistic genius, and was famed for the skill with which, with his gold pencil, he would * sketch on the back of an old letter or visiting card a race-horse in full gallop, the jocke} 7 bending low, the rapidity with which these works of art were accomplished being one of their great sources of admiration. Since then he had <<r studied art ” in Paris, had had his pictures refused three times by the Salon hanging committee, and had finally decided to take this expression of opinion as a special distinction, thus following the example of Rousseau, Delacroix and others, like sufferers with himself. As a genius incompris he had left Paris for Rome, where, in the Piazza Navona, he had installed himself as artist in a charming studio, thrown open daily from three to five o’clock, and a favorite resort of society in Rome.

People smiled at the old soldier’s art, without finding him in any way an object of derision ; he was universally respected as a man of honor and a gentleman.

Like many old bachelors whose celibacy has dated from an unhappy love affair, his cynical bitterness had a background of sentiment ; in other words, he was a pessimistic idealist. A handsome, military-looking old man with stiff shirt collar and splendid eyes, wherein lurked a world of romance, he was a special favorite with all the great ladies in Rome.

“ How nice of you to have looked in upon us, general,” was the countess’s greeting. “ Hor-

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rid weather, is it not ? Come to the fire and try to get warm.”

The count, looking up from his writing, said : “ How d’ye do, general ? ” then bent again over his article, with an apologetic “ Such an old friend as you will forgive my just finishing these few lines — three words and I have done. These are serious times ; in which it behooves every man to stand firm to his colors,” and this ardent defender of feudalism mournfully dipped his pen again in the ink.

The general begged him not to disturb himself on his account. The countess had just begun to speak about a musical soiree at which they had been the night before when her husband, dashing a line under his completed article, exclaimed triumphantly :

“ There, that will give them something to solve ! ” and joined his wife and the general by the fire.

A carriage passing below drew up.

That must be Truyn ; he was to arrive last night,” said the countess. And at that moment Count Truyn was announced.

Erich Truyn was at that time a handsome man of about thirty, with hair already turning gray, and cold, distant expression. He went by the name of Truyn frappe because he always gave the impression of having been frozen to a crystalline icicle. His frigid exterior obtained him the reputation of excessive haughtiness, which was a calumny. He had, in reality, the sweetest of dispositions, what was set down as haughtiness in him being merely the shyness

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of an oversensitive nature, which, having once brought him into ridicule by its extreme idealism, now sought jealously to conceal itself from the scorn of the world by a cold exterior.

“ Ah, Truyn, at last ! ” exclaimed the countess, with her gracious cordiality. “ How are you ? ”

“ Much as usual,” was the reply.

“ How is your wife ? ” asked Ilsenbergh.

“ I do not know.”

“ Still at Nice ? ”

“I do not know.” As he spoke his face assumed a more than ever cold and icy look.

“Are you making a long stay in Rome?” the countess now asked, anxious to turn the conversation to a less painful theme.

“ As long as it agrees with my little comrade, and she can be happy here,” replied Count Truyn. He always called his little twelve-year-old daughter and only child his comrade.

“You must bring Gabrielle very soon to see us,” observed the countess. “Mimi and Lintschi are about her age.”

“ I hope to bring her the very next time I come, countess, but she is, unfortunately, so very shy that she does not get on with strangers ; though she has struck up quite a warm friendship with the general, and for our cousin Sempaly.”

“ Nicki ! ” exclaimed the countess, amazed. “ Has he the patience to amuse children ? ”

“ He has quite a special talent that way. He was dining with us to-day.”

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“ He is unaccountable,” lamented the countess. “He hardly ever comes near us.”

A light step was heard in the anteroom, and Count Sempaly was announced.

“ Inpus in fdbula ,” observed Ilsenbergh.

The new arrival, a young man about eight or nine-and-twenty, was of middle height, of slight but muscular build, unusually handsome, with dark, regular features, an insinuating smile, and a pair of speaking deep-blue eyes under long, dark lashes. With that insinuating smile of his, he would say the most audacious things, nor could any one determine whether the light in those blue eyes meant a flash of anger or a ray of sunshine.

With easy gallantry kissing the tips of the countess’s fingers, he saluted the gentlemen|with his wonted air of brusk cordiality, and subsided on to a tabouret by the side of the lady of the house.

“ It is quite a treat to see you at last, Nicki,” said the countess, with an air of affectionate reproach. “You never come near us; and one hardly ever meets you anywhere now. How is it that you shut yourself out of society in this manner ? ”

“ Because he finds more congenial amusement elsewhere,” tittered Ilsenbergh, half aloud.

A severe look from his wife here admonished the speaker to assume a more dignified demeanor.

“ I find I cannot manage it,” replied Sempaly.. apologetically and with a half-smile. “ I really have too much to do.”

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“ Too much to do ? ’’ asked Truynj with quiet irony. “ What, in the political world ? Anything- new ? ”

“ The latest thing out is a striking leading article in the lemps, upon the f Ewer and Basin Question/ ” replied Sempaly, with affected gravity.

“The Ewer and Basin Question? ” they all repeated, in astonishment.

“Yes,” continued Sempaly, sweetly; “the facts of the case are these : The young Duke

of B n, recently entering upon his year’s

military service in Paris, was most unpleasantly surprised to find that he was not only expected to keep in barracks with the other privates, but that he had to perform his daily ablutions at the pump. This so incensed his ducal mamma that she presented herself at the War Office to request that a separate washing apparatus be arranged for her son. After lengthened deliberation, the War Office has decided to reject her application, on the grounds that this separate toilet arrangement would militate against the undying principles of ’89.”

“ Hardly possible ! ” commented Truyn. Ilsenbergh shrugged his shoulders, and the countess inquired, naivety :

“What are the undying principles of ’89?”

“Certain idealistic pacific conventions between the canaille and the aristocracy,” said Sempaly, calmly. “ Or, if you prefer it, a first surrender of prejudice to the claims of higher humanity,” he added, humorously.

The countess remained as wise as she was

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before. Sempaly, with a satirical smile, fanned himself with a Japanese hand screen and Ilsenbergh remarked :

“ Aha ! you have turned Democrat, Sempaly ! ”

44 From a bird’s-eye point of view,” observed Truyn, dryly. His cousin’s Liberal proclivities inspired him with but little confidence.

4 4 1 am always a Democrat, after having read the 4 Middle Ages,’ ” said Sempaly. The 44 Middle Ages ” was the title he gave to his cousin’s reactionary paper. 44 Moreover, jesting aside, I am a Liberal by conviction ; but, none the less, I cannot see the growing power of the Radicals without some apprehension. Tims ! I had forgotten to give you some news that will interest you, Fritzi ! The Reds are victorious throughout Paris and the King has been shot at in Madrid ! ”

44 Horrible ! ” shuddered the countess. 44 We shall see another Commune ! ”

44 Ninety-three,” remarked Truyn, quietly.

44 We positively need to draw a cordon round the Austrian monarchy to protect it from the encroachments of the plague of democracy,” observed Sempaly, gravely. 44 Ilsenbergh, you had better bring forward a motion to that effect in the Lords’.”

44 Your bad jests are out of place,” said the countess. 44 Things really are growing serious.”

44 Not with us, so far,” said Truyn. 44 Our people are much too long-suffering.”

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“They are sound at heart,” put in Ilsenbergh, pathetically.

“They have not much notion of freedom as yet,” returned Sempaty, smiling’, “and equality is akin to metaphysics with them — caviare to the multitude.” To which responded Ilsenbergh : “ Our Austrian people are good and loyally-minded. They know — ”

“ Oh,” interrupted Sempaly, laughing ; “ to your good fortune, they know very little. If once the eyes of their understanding become opened, your lives will not be worth many days’ purchase. If I had been apprentice to a bricklayer, I should have been a Social Democrat, too ! ”

At which brilliant climax Sempaly, crossing his arms, looked round defiantly at the company.

“ A Social Democrat ! ” cried Ilsenbergh, aghast. “You! No, Nicki, that you never could have become. One thing alone would have preserved you from such an enormity — religion ! ”

“ ’Hm ! ” muttered Sempaly, meditatively; and Truyn observed, with a scornful curl of his lips :

“Perhaps, as a bricklayer’s apprentice, Sempaly would not have been overburdened with religion. It might have seemed a little difficult to him to acknowledge as divine the Being who had dealt so hardly by him.”

“ Be quiet, Truyn,” cried Sempaly, somewhat nervously. “You know I object to having matters of faith brought in question.”

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“ All ! true. You go about wearing Roman Catholic eyeblinkers, and are in holy fear about the articles of your faith. It would be deuced uncomfortable for you not to be able to flatter yourself that your easy-going, little life was to be prolonged indefinitely,” said Truyn, without a trace of pleasantry and with a kind of weary iron}^.

It was well known that Sempaly held no religious opinions; but, like many other favored children of fortune, clung tenaciously to a belief in immortality. Thus he gladly hoodwinked himself, and for all the world would not have looked into any book of heterodox opinions, such as “ David Strauss,” for instance.

“ The sword is hanging over our verj^ heads,” sighed the countess, still absorbed in her dark forebodings. “This new Ministry!” and she shook her head.

“ Is not of much account, save to give occasion for a few prosy leading articles in the daily papers, and to frame a whole sheaf of laws of which the monarchy will take no notice,” remarked Sempaly.

“ The Austrian canaille is already sharpening its teeth,” groaned the anxious lady.

“ Rah ! the Austrian canaille is sound enough at heart. It will only bite when you refuse to let it lick your hands,” said her cousin, reassuringly.

“ I should consider the one as unpleasant as the other,” returned the countess, looking down affectionately at her delicate white hands.

“ Tell me, Nicki,” broke in the count, “ has

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not this new Ministry affected your prospects of advancement ? ”

Count Sempaly was a rising* member of the Austrian political party in Rome.

“ Yes, by jove ! it has,” returned Sempaly. “ I was hoping to be sent to London as secretary to the legation there. Now, one of the secretaries here is chosen for the post and our friends the Democrats are sending us one of their proteges to take his place. I heard it todaj' from my chief.”

“Who is the new secretary?” asked the countess, anxiously. “ If he is a protege of those people, he must be detestable.”

“ A man of the name of Sterzl ; has good recommendations. Comes from Teheran, where he seems to have made his mark,” said Sempaly.

“ Sterzl ! ” exclaimed Ilsenbergh, ironically.

“ Sterzl ! ” cried his wife, in dismay. “ It is to be hoped that the man is not married — that would be the crowning blow ! ”

“ Thereupon I can reassure you, countess,” said the general, “Sterzl is not a married man.”

“ Is he— a friend of yours ? ” she asked, in some embarrassment.

“He is the son of one of my dearest chums,” replied the general, “and if he only fulfill the promise of his youth, as fine a fellow in mind and heart as one could desire to meet ; a man of character and ability.”

“That is always a good point,” lisped Ilsenbergh, condescend ingly .

“Yes, I really believe it is,” assented Sem-

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paly, stroking 1 his mustache. “ Heaven knows we can do with a worker here.”

“ I had been promised the post for my nephew,” murmured the countess, dejectedly. “ How very annoying ! ”

“ Very,” returned Sempaly, satirically. “That sort of unknown element is so confoundedly perplexing, isn’t it? We so greatly prefer that it should be confined to *' one of us.’ ” Here the tea equipage making its appearance upon a Japanese etagere, the low-born secretary was consigned to oblivion for the time being.

Chapter II

Count Sempaly did not affect Democratic views merely to scandalize his cousin ; he really believed himself to be a Liberal because he cut bad jokes at the Conservatives, and chose to stigmatize the peerage as a venerable institution about as up to date as the Pyramids, but considerably less lasting. Yet, despite his respect for the masses, in theory, and his would-be witty contempt for the reactionary party, Sempaly was at heart a far stronger adherent to the classes than was his medkevally-disposed cousin, Ilsenbergh. With all his feudal mysticism, Count Ilsenbergh’s aristocratic prejudices were but those of birth — Sempaly ’s those of instinct. Ilsenbergh’s notion of what was due to

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his rank proceeded from pride of race and party feeling* ; with Sempaly it was a matter of nerves.

A few days after the above related discussion in Countess Ilsenbergh’s drawing-room, Sempaly, happening to meet the general, informed | him of the arrival of the new secretary, adding,

I with a laugh : “ I don’t think he will go down.”

“ Why ? ” asked the general.

“ Because he talks execrable French, and knows nothing of old China,” replied Sempaly, with great gravity. Then — “ I introduced him to Countess Gaudry yesterday. He had hardly turned his back when she asked me — h’m ! she is a glovemaker’s daughter from Lille — * Is he a noble ? ’ and, would you believe it, I could not tell her. When it comes to knowing which plebeian may have been created baron or what Jew turned Christian, I simply give it up!” Then, with a sly smile : “ His name is Cecil Maria ! — Cecil Maria Sterzl ; a nice thing in names, is it not ? ”

Cecil Maria ! The name was ridiculous, and suited him ill. His father had been an officer in the dragoons, who, retiring early in life from the army, had afterward devoted himself to his favorite pursuit of agriculture. His mother

was a Fraulein von past her first youth at

the time of her marriage, who, not content with having her coronet upon every article of her trousseau and emblazoned upon all her possessions, ever after must have a flag with the colors of her coat of arms flying from the small tower of the modest castle where she resided.

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and receive from all her friends and acquaintances the title of “ baroness,” which, to tell the truth, she was in no wise entitled to assume.

When, in the first year of her marriage, a fine boy was born to her, the question of what name should be given him was naturally under eager discussion.

“ Cecil Maria,” whispered the mother.

" What nonsense ! The boy shall be called Antony, after his grandfather!” exclaimed the sensible father.

Whereupon the mother burst into tears. What chance has a reasonable paterfamilias when the mother of his first born dissolves into tears ?

The little fellow was accordingly christened Cecil.

When scarce forty years old his father, who had devoted himself to nursing his little girl through scarlet fever, caught the infection and died.

Cecil was then a handsome, sturdy little chap with a strong contempt for the French language, which his sister’s governess was desirous of instilling into him, and a decided leaning toward the society of coachmen and village lads. The baroness’s one sorrow was that he was lazy and would not take sufficient care of his hands. The guardianship of the children had been confided to General Sterzl, an elder brother of their late father. He interested himself for their welfare, looked after their property carefully and guided their education conscientiously. After a short acquaintance with

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the gifted boy, allowed thus to run wild, and of the affected mother and intimidated tutor, he shrugged his shoulders at the “ whole concern ” and placed Cecil in the Theresianum, the school so highly prized b} r all Austrian military men — when they do not happen to have been educated there themselves.

During the first half-year Cecil was utterly miserable in his new surroundings; he, who hitherto in the course of his short life had been always accustomed to feel himself the first in every one’s estimation, now found himself relegated to the background.

Though far above the average of his schoolfellows in natural ability, thanks to his neglected education, he was considerably behind them in his work. Moreover, besides one boy from the town of Graz, who was given to boast of a left-handed graft of nobility, he was the only one among them who had no handle to his name. His schoolfellows twitted him about his Moravian accent, his clumsiness, his name. We have all had to suffer like tortures at school. It was a long time before he got reconciled to the state of things, and never ceased during the first half besieging his mother and guardian with letters entreating release from his durance vile. But both mother and guardian remained deaf to his entreaties. The results, brought home by Cecil at the beginning of the midsummer holidays, were depressed spirits and well-cared-for nails.

He began the following half by administering a sound thrashing to the tedious boaster from

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Graz, who had made himself obnoxious to the whole school by his vauntings of his illegitimate descent and other pretensions. This at once insured him popularity. He began to study diligently ; his professors praised his assiduity, and his complaints ceased.

Had that subtle, poisonous vanity which pervades the Theresianum begun to work in his veins, too? Was he also beginning to find a charm in hearing mass read on Sundays and saints’ days by a bishop — of being waited upon by orderlies in uniforms — of taking his dancing lessons from the court dancing master — of finding himself on familiar terms with the most distinguished scions of Austrian nobility ? It were difficult to decide. Outwardly he took it all with the greatest indifference, and remained free from all appearance of affectation. His pride was too intense to allow of outward manifestations. Later he went into the Oriental Academy, passed the examinations with brilliant success, and, still under his uncle’s auspices, entered upon a diplomatic career. He was sent first to an Asiatic capital, decimated by cholera and a prey to revolutionary outbreak. There he distinguished himself and received the order of the Iron Crown.

Society in Rome was quickly agreed on one point — the new secretary was not a man to be gauged by any light-minded sneer. There was nothing little or commonplace about him. In person, he was tall, broad-shouldered and erect, with a bearing which gave him the appearance of a military man in mufti, his brown hair

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short cut, his features strongly defined. He was heav3 r in manner, but a thorough gentleman, simple and unexacting.

Chapter III

The opinion expressed by the embassador concerning the new secretary was very different from that of Sempaly.

“ My best worker,” said His Excellency. “ A remarkable worker. Clear head — good ability — but might be more tractable — might be more tractable.”

Nor was the good opinion so quickly gained by him confined to his chief ; between himself and his younger colleagues there soon reigned the best of relations. He possessed one quality rarely found among men who take life so seriously — he never caviled at others. The embassy in Rome was thronged at that time with handsome young loungers, who, as Sempaly with ready wit expressed it, gave the Piazza di Yenegia the appearance of a boarding-school for mustachioed young countesses. Sterzl looked upon their harmless frittering away of time with the greatest composure and indulgence. It was useless to expect any work from such idlers. As well endeavor to train butterflies to be ants ! He was ever read}^ to make good their small omissions ; to give them

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every freedom to pursue their life of pleasure. He wanted to work — to be doing- something — that was his way ; they wanted to lounge and enjoy life — that was their way. Thus each got on excellently.

But though Sterzl at once fitted in so capitally with his colleagues, between himself and Roman society there was a certain coldness.

His predecessor had not made the remotest claim to any exceptional merit in his diplomatic services, but then he had waltzed well, and, moreover, had not scorned the accomplishment ; therefore he had been a favorite with the ladies. They mourned his loss, and were eager to know how his successor would replace him. Sterzl was the last man to do this ; he was utterly deficient in that light-hearted courtesy and amiable superficiality necessary to make a man popular in society. His heavy conscientiousness and pedantic exactitude rendered him altogether unsuited to the frivolous tone of small talk.

He usually moved silently observant through the throng. If he spoke at all, it was to say exactly what he thought ; and he expected the same sincerity from every one else. He did not understand that the customary pretty speeches and evasions of society were, after all, but another lower form of love to one’s neighbor ; that the universal candor he exacted must result in universal war ; that the limits between candor and impertinence, between hypocrisy and true courtesy are not yet clearly enough defined ; that one could as well speak out the whole

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truth in a lady’s drawing-room as appear there in his shirt-sleeves ; and that in the faulty condition of our souls it is fortunate for us that etiquette forbids us, whether corporeally or mentally, to appear before others unless fittingly clad. Good Heavens ! what figure should we cut without that precaution ! The world cannot exist without lying. A man accustomed to society exacts the lie from it as a right, a courtesy to which he has a claim. As soon as a man is not worth a lie he is played out, like the Countess Orsina, and can take his departure.

Sterzl was not a ladies’ man ; he had no chance with them. They nicknamed him le paysan du Danube . The men esteemed him ; they regretted his exaggerated views, more particularly his excessive sensitiveness in matters of honor. Still, that is an error which men are never seriously down upon.

Sterzl was absolutely indifferent as to what people in general had to say about him. Ever ready to go through fire and water for a friend, he was so indifferent to mere acquaintances that he often forgot even to bow to them in the street when, pondering some great scheme, he would stride along his way. He was certainly intended to do some great work in life, perhaps even to attain to eminence ; but —

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Chapter IV

The Princess Yulpini, in no wise proof against the latest fashionable disorder, morbus Schlie - maniensis , had just made a most wonderful find at a rococo dealer’s in the Via d’ Araccoli. She had bought of him two rare escutcheons, alleged to be from designs of Benvenuto Cellini, and a piece of tapestry stated to be from a design of Raphael, and had now invited a few intimate friends — Trujm, Sempaly, General von Klinger and one of the Austrian attaches. Count Siegburg — to pronounce upon the genuine nature of her find.

The princess, a younger sister of Count Truyn’s, had met Prince Yulpini at Yichi, whither she had accompanied her invalid father. Their marriage quickly followed, and she had now lived some ten or twelve years in Rome, which she greatly liked, although never ceasing to deplore certain discomforts nor to laud her native Yienna, always making a point of having everything sent her from “ home ” — being firmly convinced that there was absolutely nothing obtainable in Rome save photographs, antiquities and wax matches.

Dinner was over. The conversation, which had been of a very animated nature, had consisted of one long tirade against the new Italian Government. Arrived at the stage of coffee and cigarettes, the guests were devoting them-

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