the arbours; I must confess it was largely the impression her beauty and
tenderness had left upon me. But I was disappointed: I explored the
whole garden in vain.

Anything to be near her, I thought. So I went and hung about the door
between the garden and her apartments. But it remained closed and
enigmatic. I had another idea, and, returning into the house, took my
way unchecked to the gallery of pictures, wondering at the freedom of
passage now allowed me, and at the same time resolved to make the most
of it. I could scarce believe my eyes when I saw the door ajar which led
to Madame's suite. I went and tapped lightly on it, but got no answer.
It opened to a large drawing-room, well furnished but without any
inhabitant. I crossed this room to the other side, which had two doors,
both open. One gave entrance to a sleeping-chamber, in a corner of which
was a prie-dieu, and which showed in a hundred details to be the bedroom
of a lady. But the bed was made up, and a smaller bed, in a recess,
which might be that of the maid, also had the appearance of not having
been used the previous night. I looked through the other doorway from
the drawing-room, and saw a stairway leading down to the garden door.
Had the Countess and Mathilde, then, gone into the garden at the time I
was in the act of coming to the gallery? No; for the garden door was
bolted on the inside. I went to one of the drawing-room windows looking
on the terrace, and made sure it was the window from which Mathilde had
first answered my call. And then it dawned upon me what the desertion of
these rooms meant, and why I was allowed to go where I would in the
house and garden. The Countess and her maid were no longer there. What
had become of them?

CHAPTER VIII.

MATHILDE

Well, there was no indication to be found in the Countess's apartments
as to where she had removed to, and I thought it best not to risk being
seen there. So I went down to the hall again. As I glanced through the
court-yard to the outer gates, I thought of trying to leave the chateau,
to see if my new liberty went so far as to permit that. But I reflected
that if I were once let out I might not be let in again, and my chance
of learning what had become of the Countess lay, I supposed, inside the
chateau. So I resolved to stay there and await the turn that matters
might take. And certainly never was any man a guest in stranger
circumstances of guestship. I hated and feared my host