"Yes," said Frederick, "for no one else uses that entrance."
Von Apsberg then approached the library and touched a spring which threw open a panel on which the books were arranged. With a key the doctor then opened another door, through which a man entered. The day was advanced, and the shades of night enwrapped almost all the room. The scene we describe took place in the most remote and consequently in the darkest portion of the vast studio. The appearance of the man assumed a terrible and fantastic air.
"Ah! what is there so urgent that you trouble thus, my dear Pignana?" said the Count to the new comer.
Signor Pignana, our old Neapolitan acquaintance, the pretended tailor and owner of the Etruscan House, the mysterious guide of the Count among the ruins of San Paolo, bowed to the earth as he always did before the Count, and was evidently about to speak, when he stopped short and pointed to the peasant and my lord, the profiles of whom he could see distinctly in a moonbeam which came through one of the windows.
"They are brethren," said Matheus, "you may speak."
"Well then," said Pignana, piqued by the brusque manner of the Count, "I thought the case _urgent_, (he accented the last word,) and therefore came to warn your excellency of danger."
"What danger?" asked the Count, with his usual _sang-froid_.
"And since his excellency," said Pignana, "forbade me to come to his house, I was obliged to come here, though I believe my appearance is respectable enough to pass scrutiny anywhere."
"Signor Pignana, I must now, once for all, tell you the motives of my conduct. I would not do so in any case were I not satisfied how devoted you are to me."
"Your appearance," said the Count, "is certainly very honest and respectable. The _fund_ of honesty is, however, perhaps not so good; for as a smuggler, a skimmer of the seas----, but I stop here, lest I should displease you, for you may, after all, have something on your conscience. There is, you know, a certain Neapolitan Ambassador at Paris who was once a minister of police in our beautiful country. Now, Signor Pignana, people never have to do with the police without some very unpleasant consequences. I have an idea also that the Duke of Palma, at whose house I was a fortnight ago, did not fail to inform the Prefect of the Police of the city, of my being in Paris. This is a delicate attention from one police to another. The Duke, also, probably pointed out many of my old acquaintances, among whom you have the honor to be; you will understand, by aid of your knowledge of _doubtful affairs_, that if it be known that I receive you here, people will not think you come to teach me to play _the mandoline_, on which instrument you are, I learn, a great performer. Consequently, and not to rob myself of your invaluable services, and the care over my household which you exercise, we have made a means of entrance for you here, and through him you can communicate with me--how Signor Pignana, an intelligent man like you, should understand this, without its being necessary for me to give all these details."