The man
on the left of the official was young, handsome, slender, and pulled the
corners of his mustache with a slow lazy touch of his graceful hand. His
eyes were fixed on Jennie with a steady gaze. The Minister from
Sardinia, of the Court of Victor Emmanuel, sat on the right, bowing and
gesticulating with an enthusiasm out of all proportion to the importance
of the conversation.
Behind this group sat a fourth man who leaned forward occasionally and
whispered to the official. His face was in shadow and the only thing
Dick could see was the thick dark brown beard which covered his regular
features and a pair of piercing black eyes.
"For heaven's sake, Jennie," the boy cried at last, "who is that villain
in the Diplomatic gallery?"
"Where?"
"In the corner there on the right."
"Oh, that's the Sardinian Minister--King Victor Emmanuel's new drummer
of trade for Genoa. He's getting ahead of the French, too."
"No--no, I don't mean that little rat. I mean the big fellow with the
heavy jaw and a face like a rattlesnake. He's trying to charm you too."
Jennie laughed.
"Silly! That's the new Secretary of War, Joseph Holt."
"A scoundrel, if God ever made one--"
"Because he looks at me?"
"No--that shows his good taste.
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