My lord gratefully accepted the invitation; he entered my room as the clock struck twelve.  As yet he could not tell the cause of the disaster, and in a calm, patriarchal manner observed, “I am a man marked out for great misfortune.  God forbid, madame, that the mischance which dogs my footsteps touch you also!”

“I cannot bear to see a fire,” said I, in reply to the English nobleman, “for some dreadful accident always results therefrom.  Yet, on the whole, they are of good augury, and I am sure, my lord, that your health or your affairs will benefit by this accident.”

Hearing me talk thus, my lord smiled.  He only took some slight refreshment,—­a little soup,—­and heard me give orders for all my available servants to be sent to the scene of disaster, in order to save all his furniture, and protect it as well.

After repeated expressions of his gratitude, he desired to withdraw, and retired to rest.  Next day we learnt that the fire had been got under about one o’clock in the morning; one wing only of the chateau had been destroyed, and the library, together with all the linen and plate, was well-nigh intact.  Lord Hyde was very glad to hear the news.  They told him that all the labourers living near had gladly come to the help of his servants and mine.  As his private cashbox had been saved, owing to their vigilance and honesty, he promised to distribute its contents among them when he returned.

Hardly had he got the words out, when they came to tell me that, on the highroad, just in front of my gates, a carriage, bound for Paris, had the traces broken, and the travellers persons of distinction begged the favour of my hospitality for a short while.  I consented with pleasure, and they went back to take the travellers my answer.

“You see, madame,” said the Chancellor, “my bad luck is contagious; no sooner have I set foot in this enchanting abode than its atmosphere deteriorates.  A travelling-carriage passes rapidly by in front of the gates, when lo! some invisible hand breaks it to pieces, and stops it from proceeding any further.”

Then I replied, “But how do you know, monsieur, that this mishap may not prove a most agreeable adventure for the travellers to whom we are about to give shelter?  To begin with, they will have the honour of making your acquaintance, and to meet with an illustrious person is no common or frivolous event.”

The servants announced the Princes Comnenus, who immediately entered the salon.  Though dressed in travelling-costume, with embroidered gaiters, in the Greek fashion, it was easy to see what they were.  The son, a lad of fourteen, was presented to me by his father, and when both were seated, I introduced them to the Chancellor.

“The name is well known,” observed the Prince, “even in Greece.  My lord married his daughter to the heir-presumptive to the English throne, and England, being by nature ungrateful, has distressed this worthy parent, while robbing him of all his possessions.”