spicion by leaving
without paying our bill. We were on foot, and might easily be pursued.
So we sat on our bed's edge, talking and shivering, while from across
the court the laughter rang merrily, and the company slowly dispersed
one by one, their lights flitting past the windows as they went upstairs
and settled each one to his rest.

We crept into our bed, holding each other tight, and listening to every
sound, as if we thought we were tracked, and might meet our death at any
moment. In the dead of night, just at the profound stillness preceding
the turn into another day, we heard a soft, cautious step crossing
the yard. The key into the stable was turned--some one came into the
stable--we felt rather than heard him there. A horse started a little,
and made a restless movement with his feet, then whinnied recognition.
He who had entered made two or three low sounds to the animal, and then
led him into the court. Amante sprang to the window with the noiseless
activity of a cat. She looked out, but dared not speak a word. We heard
the great door into the street open--a pause for mounting, and the
horse's footsteps were lost in distance.

Then Amante came back to me. "It was he! he is gone!" said she, and once
more we lay down, trembling and shaking.

This time we fell sound asleep. We slept long and late. We were wakened
by many hurrying feet, and many confused voices; all the world seemed
awake and astir. We rose and dressed ourselves, and coming down we
looked around among the crowd collected in the court-yard, in order to
assure ourselves _he_ was not there before we left the shelter of the
stable.

The instant we were seen, two or three people rushed to us.

"Have you heard?--Do you know?--That poor young lady--oh, come and see!"
and so we were hurried, almost in spite of ourselves, across the court,
and up the great open stairs of the main building of the inn, into a
bed-chamber, where lay the beautiful young German lady, so full of
graceful pride the night before, now white and still in death. By her
stood the French maid, crying and gesticulating.

"Oh, madame! if you had but suffered me to stay with you! Oh! the baron,
what will he say?" and so she went on. Her state had but just been
discovered; it had been supposed that she was fatigued, and was sleeping
late, until a few minutes before. The surgeon of the town had been sent
for, and the landlord of the inn was trying vainly to enforce order
until he ca