othing to do, for the moment, but yield. The Captain was
watching to see where my hand moved, and I know not how many armed men
were in the court-yard, besides the servants waiting at the other end of
the hall. So I obeyed the Count's gesture, merely saying:

"You will find I am not a person who will go unavenged in case of
indignity."

The Count laughed, in his dry, sharp manner, and walked by my side. The
Captain followed. As soon as I was in my room, the Count called a
servant, who went away and presently returned with a key. The Count and
his friend then left me, and locked the door on the outside. As I sat
down on my bed, I was glad I had offered no useless resistance, for, as
it was, I had not been deprived of my weapons.

To make a short matter here of what seemed a very long one at the time,
I was kept locked in my room all that day, with two armed men outside my
door, as I guessed first from hearing them, and certified afterwards by
seeing them when a servant brought my food. What made the confinement
and inaction the more trying was my knowledge that this was the day on
which the Countess was to plead her innocence. I kept wondering through
the tedious hours how matters were going with her, and I often strained
my ears in the poor hope of discovering by them what might be going on
in the chateau. But I never heard anything but the rough speech and
movements of the men outside my door, and now and then the voice of some
attendant on the terrace below my window. I could look diagonally across
the terrace to the window where I had seen Mathilde, but not once during
all that day did I behold a sign of life there. The night came without
bringing me any hint as to how the Countess had fared. I could not sleep
till late.

When I woke, early in the morning, I noticed that my door was slightly
ajar. Looking out, I found the corridor empty. I took this to mean that
I was not to remain a prisoner, and so it proved. Hastily dressing and
going downstairs, though many servants were about, I encountered no
hindrance. I passed out to the terrace. To my surprise, nobody was on
guard at the steps; so I went boldly down to the garden. My heart beat
with a vague hope of meeting the Countess, though it was scarce late
enough in the day to expect her to be out. I must confess it was not
alone her being an oppressed lady whom I had engaged myself to aid, that
made me look so eagerly down all the walks and peer so keenly into all