e old woman, drawing me aside into a window-recess,
and lowering her voice, "do you see at the far end of yonder court an old
dungeon of much narrower dimensions than the others? In that dungeon
lies the good Comtesse de Bleink-Elmeink; she has languished there for
five years."

Then this woman informed me that her master, formerly page of honour to
the Empress Eleanor, had wedded, on account of her great wealth, a young
Hungarian noblewoman, by whom he had two children, both of whom were
living. Such was his dislike of their mother, on account of a slight
deformity, that for four or five years he shamefully maltreated her, and
at last shut her up in this dungeon-keep, allowing her daily the most
meagre diet possible.

"When, some few days since, the royal stewards appeared in front of the
moat, and claimed admittance, the Count was much alarmed," added the
peasant woman. "He thought that all was discovered, and that he was
going to suffer for it. It was not until the King and Queen came that he
was reassured, and he has not been able to hide his embarrassment from
any of us."

"Where are the two children of his marriage?" I asked the old woman,
before deciding to act.

"The young Baron," she answered, "is at Vienna or Ohnutz, at an academy
there. His sister, a graceful, pretty girl, has been in a convent from
her childhood; the nuns have promised to keep her there, and as soon as
she is fourteen, she will take the veil."

My first impulse was to acquaint the Queen with these astounding
revelations, but it soon struck me that, to tackle a man of such
importance as the Count, we could not do without the King. I at once
sent my secretary with a note, imploring his Majesty to return, but
giving no reason for my request. He came back immediately, post-haste,
when the housekeeper repeated to him, word for word, all that I have set
down here. The King could hardly believe his ears.

When coming to a decision, his Majesty never does so precipitately. He
paced up and down the room twice or thrice, and then said to me, "The
matter is of a rather singular nature; I am unacquainted with law, and
what I propose to do may one day serve as an example. It is my duty to
rescue our unfortunate hostess, and requite her nobly for her
hospitality."

So saying, he sent for the Count, and assuming a careless, almost jocular
air, thus addressed him:

"You were formerly page to the Empress Eleanor, I believe, M. le
Bleink-