ne day she and
Madame returned from a walk in the forest, the one with high color and
brilliant eyes, the other impassive as ice. Now, all these things
did not escape Maurice, but he could not piece them together with any
result.

On the morning of the tenth day the two prisoners came down to
breakfast, wondering how much longer this house party was going to last.

"George! I wish I had a pipe," said Maurice.

"So do I," Fitzgerald echoed glumly. "I am tired of cigars and weary
of those eternal cigarettes. How the deuce are we going to get out of
this?"

"What's your hurry? We're having a good time."

"That's the trouble. Hang the duchess!"

"Hang her and welcome. But why do you complain to me and not to Madame?
Are you afraid of her? Does she possess, then, what is called tamer's
magnetism? O, my lion, if only you would roar a bit more at her and less
at me!"

"I don't know what she possesses; but I do know that I'd give a deal to
be out of this."

"Is the chambermaid idea bothering you?"

"No, Maurice, it is not the chambermaid. I feel oppressed by something
which I can not define."

"Maybe you are not used to tokay forty years old?"

"Wine has nothing to do with it."

He was so serious that Maurice dropped his jesting tone. "By the way,"
he said, "do you sleep soundly?"

"No. Every night I am awakened by the noise of a horse entering the
court-yard."

"So am I. Moreover, Madame seems to be troubled with the same
sleeplessness.

"Madame?"

"Yes. She is so troubled with sleeplessness that nothing will quiet her
but the sight of the man who rides the horse: all of which is to say
that a courier arrives each night with dispatches from Bleiberg. Now, to
tell the truth, the courier does not keep me awake half so much as
the thought of who is eating three meals a day at the end of the east
corridor on the third floor. But there are Madame and the countess; we
have kept them waiting."

"Good morning," said Madame, smiling as they came up. "And how have you
slept?"

"Nothing wakes me but the roll of the drum or thunder," answered
Fitzgerald diffidently.

"I dream of horses," said Maurice carelessly.

"Bon jour, M. le Capitaine!" cried the countess. Then she added with
a light laugh: "Come, let me try you. Portons armes! Presentons
armes!--How beautifully you do it!--Par le flanc gauche! En
avant--marche!"

Maurice swung, clicked his heels and, with a covert glance at Madame,
led the way into th