Yes, it was he. The page flung open the door, and announced:

"Baron von Eskoles Flies."

The baron entered the room. He had grown old since Rachel's flight.

Scarcely a year had elapsed since then; but in that year her father's raven locks had become white as snow, and the stalwart man of fifty had grown old and feeble.

The emperor came forward, and extended his hand.

"Look at me, Eskeles," said he, in his quick, eager way; "do not bow so ceremoniously, we have no time to waste on formalities. Look at me, and let me see whether you are an honest man scorning falsehood, even though it might shield a fellow-creature from harm."

The banker looked the emperor full in the face, and bore the scrutiny of his searching eyes without wincing.

"I see that you can look me in the face," said Joseph. "You will speak the truth."

"The Jew is forbidden by his religious code to lie," was the reply.

Joseph crossed the room quickly, and taking a letter from his escritoire, gave it to the banker.

"Is this your writing?"

Eskeles lifted his eyes slowly to the paper, and seemed surprised.

"Yes, that is my writing. I posted this letter yesterday. How, then, do I find it here? Its detention is a serious inconvenience to me."

He said this with the demeanor of a merchant whose mind is upon his business, and who has no idea that it can concern any other person.

"The letter was sent to me by the secret police," said the emperor. The banker looked up in astonishment. "Ah!" exclaimed he. "then the tales which are told of the opening of all our letters by detectives, are not fables!"

"No--they are not fables, and I am justified in the scrutiny. Men are so corrupt that our only defence against treachery is espionage. It is a pity that it should be so; but as long as the people are base, their sovereigns must stop short of no means to foil them."

"But I have never sinned against your majesty. Why, then, is my letter open to suspicion?"

"Every man is suspected by the secret police," replied Joseph, with a shrug. "For that reason they had orders to stop every letter addressed to Holland. The precaution had been made imperative by our misunderstandings with that country. And you see yourself that your letter betrays a secret of state."

"Betrays!" repeated the banker. "We betray that which we are expected to bury within the recesses of our own heart. But this news was to go out into the world, and was a subject for percentage. I should have made at least half a million had my letter not been unluckily detained by your majesty."

"I shall not prevent you from earning your percentage," replied Joseph, scornfully. "Your letter shall go to-day, and my dispatches shall be detained until to-morrow. In that way you can still make your half million."

The banker bowed. "I thank your majesty for your exceeding condescension," said he.

"I will do you this favor, but you must do me a service in return."

"It is not necessary for your majesty to concede me the right to earn half a million, to buy my services," said Eskeles, with a slight shade of reproach. "I hope that I have always been ready to serve your majesty, even when no percentage was to be gained thereby."

"And I have recognized it, BARON Eskeles Flies. But I do not speak of pecuniary services to-day. I ask a favor of another nature. Tell me, then, without reserve, who is the man that receives a thousand ducats for revealing a secret of state to you."

The banker started as if he had received a shot, and glanced inquiringly at the emperor. "Was that in the letter?" asked he.

Joseph gave it into his hands. Eskeles perused it eagerly, and then, murmured in a voice of exceeding contrition, "Ay, it is there. I was indiscreet." Then, as if overcome by his fault, his head sank upon his breast.

"I await your answer," said the emperor. "Who betrayed me to you for a thousand ducats?"

The banker raised his head as if making a difficult resolve. "Your majesty, that was an idle boast of mine to enhance the value of my news."

"Mere evasion, baron!" replied Joseph, angrily. "Even if you had not written the words in that letter, I should still ask of you, who it is that betrays my secrets?"

"No one, sire," replied Eskeles, uneasily. "I guessed it. Yes, yes,"--continued he, as though a happy idea had just struck him--"that is it--I guessed. Every one knows of your majesty's difficulty with Holland, and I might well guess that you would be glad to end this strife by accepting the ten millions, and so save your subjects from the horrors of war."

"You are not the truthful man I had supposed. There is no logic in your lies, Baron Eskeles. You might guess that I would accept the ten millions, but as you are not omniscient, you could not say positively that I had written my dispatches yesterday, and would sign them to-day.

Your inventions are clumsy, baron, and I must say that they do you honor; for they prove that you have little experience in the art of lying. But the truth I must have, and as your lord and emperor, I command you to speak. For the third time, who betrayed my secrets to you?"

"Oh, sire, I swore not to betray him," said Eskeles, in a faltering voice.

"I absolve you from the oath."

"But the God of Israel cannot absolve me. I cannot speak the name of the man, but--your majesty can guess it."

He was silent for a few moments, then raising his head, the emperor saw that his face had become deadly pale. In a low, unsteady voice he continued: "Your majesty knows that I once had a daughter."

"HAD? You have a daughter, baron."

"She is dead to me," murmured Eskeles so inaudibly that the emperor scarcely heard him. "She left me a year ago for a man whom she loved better than her father."

"But she left because you would have married her to a man whom she hated. Gunther told me so."

"Yes, sire. I had no idea that my unhappy child would go to such extremity. Had she entreated me as she should have done, I would have yielded; but her lover had hardened her heart against me, and she abandoned me--not to become the honorable wife of any man, but to lead a life of shame and reproach. Rachel is not married, she is the mistress of that man."

"This, too, is your fault, baron. You made her swear never to become a Christian, and by our laws she could not marry him. But he considers her as his wife. You see that I know all. Gunther, to justify himself, confided to me the whole history of his love."

"He did not tell the truth, sire. My daughter herself is unwilling to become a Christian."

"Then she is a conscientious Jewess?"

"No, sire, she does not attend the synagogue."

"What is she, then?" asked the emperor, astonished.

"She is a Deist; and precisely because I required of her to profess either Judaism or Christianity, she fled to that man whom she cannot be made to believe is the suitor of her wealth and not of herself."

"Do you think, then, that Gunther is interested?"

"I know it, sire. He offered for a hundred thousand florins to renounce Rachel and deliver her up to me--Here is his letter; your majesty can see it."

The emperor took the letter, and read it. "It is his writing," murmured he, sorrowfully; "it is too true."

"I refused," continued Eskeles. "I would not buy my daughter back. I therefore waited to see what would follow."

"What followed?"