arrived with news that his master was bringing you on."

Vittoria heard that Laura and her sister and the duchess had gone down
to Meran. Countess Lena von Lenkenstein was riding to see her betrothed
shoot on a neighbouring estate. Countess Anna had disappeared early,
none knew where. Both these ladies, and their sister-in-law, were in
mourning for the terrible death of their brother, Count Paul Aennchen
repeated what she knew of the tale concerning him.

The desire to see Laura first, and be embraced and counselled by her,
and lie awhile in her arms to get a breath of home, made Vittoria refuse
to go up to her chamber, and notwithstanding Aennchen's persuasions, she
left the castle, and went out and sat in the shaded cart-track. On the
winding ascent she saw a lady in a black riding habit, leading her horse
and talking to a soldier, who seemed to be receiving orders from her,
and presently saluted and turned his steps downward. The lady came on,
and passed her without a glance. After entering the courtyard, where
she left her horse, she reappeared, and stood hesitating, but came up to
Vittoria and said bluntly, in Italian:

"Are you the signorina Campa, or Belloni, who is expected here?"

The Austrian character and colouring of her features told Vittoria that
this must be the Countess Anna or her sister.

"I think I have been expected," she replied.

"You come alone?"

"I am alone."

"I am Countess Anna von Lenkenstein; one of the guests of the castle."

"My message is to the Countess Anna."

"You have a message?"

Vittoria lifted the embroidered cigar-case. Countess Anna snatched it
from her hand.

"What does this mean? Is it insolence? Have the kindness, if you please,
not to address me in enigmas. Do you"--Anna was deadly pale as she
turned the cigarcase from side to side--"do you imagine that I smoke,
'par hasard?'" She tried to laugh off her intemperate manner of speech;
the laugh broke at sight of a blood-mark on one corner of the case; she
started and said earnestly, "I beg you to let me hear what the meaning
of this may be?"

"He lies in the Ultenthal, wounded; and his wish was that I should
deliver it to you." Vittoria spoke as gently as the harsh tidings would
allow.

"Wounded? My God! my God!" Anna cried in her own language. "Wounded?-in
the breast, then! He carried it in his breast. Wounded by what? by
what?"

"I can tell you no more."

"Wounded by whom?"

"It was an honourable duel.