Princess Maritza | Page 8

it would have been unjust to call
him a drunkard.
The Altstrasse was of the old town, a narrow thoroughfare of gaunt
houses which now sheltered a dozen families in rooms where the
wealthy had once lived, and in which Ministers and Ambassadors had
entertained the wit, beauty, and bravery of nations. These glories had
departed to the palatial buildings which had grown up round the citadel,
leaving the Altstrasse as misfortune may leave a gentleman, the marks
of breeding evident though he be clad in rusty garments. Over the
doorways, through which tatterdemalions, men, women, and children,
flocked in and out, were handsome carvings, deep-cut crests and
coats-of-arms; ragged garments were hung to dry over handsome
balustrades and wrought-iron railings; while in the rough and broken
roadway garbage, cast there days since, lay rotting where it had fallen.
Poverty had seized upon the place, flaunting poverty, seeking no
concealment. Ellerey had passed through the Altstrasse before to-night,
but the surroundings had had no particular interest for him then. Now
they arrested his attention. What plots might not have birth and grow to
dangerous maturity in such surroundings, among such people as these?
The rabble had overrun these deserted mansions; might it not one day
hammer at the doors of the palaces by the citadel yonder with demands
not to be gainsaid? What manner of man was this De Froilette, what
ends had he in view, that he should live in such a place?

Number 12 looked as faded as its neighbors, showed even fewer lights
in its windows, and, except that no small crowd hung about the closed
door, was no whit more attractive than ever. Ellerey's summons was
answered immediately, however, and he entered a large bare stone hall,
the dim light which hung in the centre disclosing many fast-closed
doors on either side.
"Monsieur is expected," said the man deferentially, leading the way
down a stone passage and up a flight of stairs to a landing
corresponding with the hall below. But how different! Here was luxury.
A deep carpet deadened the footfall, rich curtains hung over windows
and doorways, and ancient arms were upon the walls. Ellerey had little
time to appreciate more than the general effect, for the man, drawing
back a heavy curtain, opened a door, and without making any
announcement stood aside for him to enter.
"Welcome, mon ami, welcome," said De Froilette, coming forward to
meet him. "Confidences are easier here than on the highway."
The room was perfect, the abode of a man of taste with the means to
gratify it to the full. It was costly and unique, a collector's room,
discriminately arranged, and the owner, motioning his guest to a chair,
was worthy of his surroundings. In the afternoon he had been muffled
in a cloak, and Ellerey had noticed little of his appearance beyond the
fact that his eyes were dark and restless. Now he saw a man courtly and
distinguished in a manner, with a clever, earnest face, at once attractive
and inviting confidence. His hair, cut short, and his beard trimmed to a
fine point, were black with a few streaks of white in them, but his face
was young looking, the lines few and faint. His fifty years sat lightly
upon him. One would have judged him a student, or a traveller, rather
than a politician, or a man fighting life strenuously.
"My surroundings surprise you?" he said, with a smile.
"Such things are hardly looked for in the Altstrasse," Ellerey answered.
"They are a part of myself, Captain Ellerey, but I wish to remain in
privacy. Your elect of the city do not naturally visit in the Altstrasse,

and I have rooms below bare enough to impress uninteresting people
with the fact that I am a poor sort of fellow, and likely to be an
unprofitable acquaintance. For my friends--well, you see, I have other
apartments."
"I thank you for the preference shown me," said Ellerey, with a bow.
"And since we parted have been speculating on the reason, is it not so?"
"Naturally."
"I think I can help you; I believe you can assist me. There is the
position in a nutshell. I am honest. I make no pretence of liking
unprofitable friends myself. But we will talk afterward, monsieur," he
added, as a servant announced supper, and De Froilette led the way into
an adjoining room. The meal was faultlessly served at a round table
lighted by candles in quaint silver candlesticks. Although not exactly
an epicure, De Froilette understood a supper of this description as
perhaps only a Frenchman can, and his taste in wines was excellent. He
led the conversation into general topics, talked of Paris and London
with equal ease and knowledge, and of Berlin, Vienna, and St.
Petersburg only a