ust into his pocket. "With these two companions
I am going to meet the gentleman who is so determined to see the face of
the veiled lady. I shall show him a lady whose face is not a subject of
gossip."

The baroness uttered a cry of terror, and seized Count Vavel's hand.

"No, no; you shall not go alone. Listen. I was prepared for just such a
decision on your part, so I wrote this letter. If you persist in going
alone to meet the colonel, I shall hurry back to the manor, send my
groom on the swiftest horse I own with this letter to Colonel Barthelmy.
Read it."

She unfolded the letter she had taken from her pocket, and held it so
that Count Vavel might read, without taking it in his hands:

"HERR COLONEL: You need not seek Mme. Ange Barthelmy at the
Nameless Castle. The veiled lady seen in company with Count Vavel
is

"B. KATHARINA LANDSKNECHTSSCHILD."

In speechless amazement Count Vavel looked down at the baroness, who
calmly folded the letter and returned it to her pocket.

"Now you may go if you like," she said coolly, "and I, too, shall do as
_I_ like! The colonel will then have written proof to justify him in
dragging my name in the dust!"

The count gazed long and earnestly into the lovely face turned
defiantly toward him. What was said by those glowing eyes, what was
expressed by those lips trembling with excitement, could not be mere
sport. There is only one name for the emotion which urges a woman to
risk so much for a man; and if Count Vavel guessed the name, then there
was nothing for him to do but offer his arm to the lady and say:

"Come, baroness, we will go together."

When the count assisted his veiled companion into the carriage, and took
his seat by her side, not even Henry could have told that it was not his
young mistress from the castle who was going to drive, as usual, with
her guardian.

It was with a singular feeling that Count Vavel looked at the woman
beside him, to whom he was bound for one hour by the strongest, most
dangerous of ties. Only for one hour! For this one hour the woman
belonged to him as wholly, as entirely as the soul belongs to the living
human being. And afterward? Afterward she would be no more to him than
is the vanished soul to the dead human being.

The carriage had arrived at the boundary of the neighboring village,
where the usual turn was made for the homeward drive, and they had not
yet seen any one. Had Colonel Barthelmy's words bee