Varhely read the lines over twice, to convince himself that he was not mistaken, and that it was Prince Zilah who was designated with the skilfully veiled innuendo of an expert journalist. There was no chance for doubt; the indistinct nationality of the great lord spoken of thinly veiled the Magyar characteristics of Andras, and the paragraph which preceded the “Little Parisian Romance” was very skilfully arranged to let the public guess the name of the hero of the adventure, while giving to the anecdote related the piquancy of the anonymous, that velvet mask of scandal-mongers.
“Andras must not know of this article. He scarcely ever reads the journals; but some one may have sent this paper to him.”
And the old misanthrope hurried to the Prince’s hotel, thinking this: that there always exist people ready to forward paragraphs of this kind.
When he perceived ‘L’Actualite’ upon the Prince’s table, he saw that his surmise was only too correct, and he was furious with himself for arriving too late.
“Where are you going?” he asked Andras, who was putting on his gloves.
The Prince took up the marked paper, folded it slowly, and replied:
“You know that that sheet is never read, it has no circulation whatever, it lives from its advertisements. There is no use in taking any notice of it.”
“If there were question only of myself, I should not take any notice of it. But they have mixed up in this scandal the name of the woman to whom I have given my name. I wish to know who did it, and why he did it.”
“Oh! for nothing, for fun! Because this Monsieur--how does he sign himself?--Puck had nothing else to write about.”
“It is certainly absurd,” remarked Zilah, “to imagine that a man can live in the ideal. At every step the reality splashes you with mud.”
“Where are you going?” asked Varhely again.
“Do not commit such an imprudence. The article, which has made no stir as yet, will be read and talked of by all Paris if you take any notice of it, and it will be immediately commented upon by the correspondents of the Austrian and Hungarian journals.”
“That matters little to me!” said the Prince, resolutely. “Those people will only do what their trade obliges them to. But, before everything, I am resolved to do my duty. That is my part in this matter.”