that you met at Paris was my daughter.’—‘I am afraid, my Lord Count,’ said Marino, ‘to contradict you in direct terms; but absolutely the features I then beheld were those of Libussa, nor, since that meeting in the gallery have they been even for a moment absent from my remembrance.’
“Globoda shook his head significantly, but the Duke resumed; ‘Still another proof,—yet forgive me if I now deem it necessary to mention a circumstance which would otherwise, certainly, never have escaped my lips. When I stood behind the lady at the Louvre, it happened that her handkerchief had been drawn a little aside, and on her neck, that was otherwise white as alabaster, I observed an extraordinary red mark.’ ‘What in God’s name means this?’ cried the Count; ‘you seem determined that I should be forced into the belief of things utterly incomprensible.’ But only let one question be answered, ‘Can this mark be found on Libussa’s neck?’ ‘No,’ replied the Count, staring in the utmost astonishment at his intended son-in-law. ‘Is it possible?’ said Marino, in a voice faltering with affright. ‘I have told you the truth,’ said the Count; ‘but it is no less certain that Libussa’s
