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 *pathy with the President's remarks. His language is far from diplomatic. He did not expect it to be repeated."

"I demand to know," shouted Volkonsky, furiously.

"He said, he knew you were an infernal scoundrel the instant he put his eyes on you."

Volkonsky fell back in his chair almost stunned. Pembroke, whose sense of humor was struggling with his anger and disgust, almost felt sorry for him. After a pause, Volkonsky raised himself up and looked fixedly at Pembroke.

"Why do you not enter the diplomatic service?" he said. "You have great talents in that direction."

"Because," answered Pembroke, smiling in a way that made Volkonsky feel like strangling him, "the diplomatic service is no career for a man—"

"In America, yes. But in Europe?"

"Nor in Europe, either. Before the railroad and the telegraph, Ministers had powers and responsibilities. Now, they are merely agents and messengers. However, we will not discuss that. Our affairs are finished. I only have to warn you not to abuse the reasonable indulgence of this government. You are to take yourself off—and if not, you will be driven out."

After Volkonsky left him, Pembroke dined alone at the club. He felt singularly depressed. As long as he had Volkonsky before him, he enjoyed the pleasure of beating his enemy according to the savage instincts which yet dwell in the