He could scarcely be called gay; yet few persons more tended to animate the general spirits of a convivial circle.  He seemed, by a kind of intuition, to elicit from each companion the qualities in which he most excelled; and if occasionally a certain tone of latent mockery characterised his remarks upon the topics on which the conversation fell, it appeared to men who took nothing in earnest to be the language both of wit and wisdom.  To the Frenchmen, in particular, there was something startling in his intimate knowledge of the minutest events in their own capital and country, and his profound penetration (evinced but in epigrams and sarcasms) into the eminent characters who were then playing a part upon the great stage of continental intrigue.

It was while this conversation grew animated, and the feast was at its height, that Glyndon arrived at the palace.  The porter, perceiving by his dress that he was not one of the invited guests, told him that his Excellency was engaged, and on no account could be disturbed; and Glyndon then, for the first time, became aware how strange and embarrassing was the duty he had taken on himself.  To force an entrance into the banquet-hall of a great and powerful noble, surrounded by the rank of Naples, and to arraign him for what to his boon-companions would appear but an act of gallantry, was an exploit that could not fail to be at once ludicrous and impotent.  He mused a moment, and, slipping a piece of gold into the porter’s hand, said that he was commissioned to seek the Signor Zanoni upon an errand of life and death, and easily won his way across the court, and into the interior building.  He passed up the broad staircase, and the voices and merriment of the revellers smote his ear at a distance.  At the entrance of the reception-rooms he found a page, whom he despatched with a message to Zanoni.  The page did the errand; and Zanoni, on hearing the whispered name of Glyndon, turned to his host.

“Pardon me, my lord; an English friend of mine, the Signor Glyndon (not unknown by name to your Excellency) waits without,—­the business must indeed be urgent on which he has sought me in such an hour.  You will forgive my momentary absence.”

“Nay, signor,” answered the prince, courteously, but with a sinister smile on his countenance, “would it not be better for your friend to join us?  An Englishman is welcome everywhere; and even were he a Dutchman, your friendship would invest his presence with attraction.  Pray his attendance; we would not spare you even for a moment.”

Zanoni bowed; the page was despatched with all flattering messages to Glyndon,—­a seat next to Zanoni was placed for him, and the young Englishman entered.

“You are most welcome, sir.  I trust your business to our illustrious guest is of good omen and pleasant import.  If you bring evil news, defer it, I pray you.”

Glyndon’s brow was sullen; and he was about to startle the guests by his reply, when Zanoni, touching his arm significantly, whispered in English, “I know why you have sought me.  Be silent, and witness what ensues.”