er servant and carriage,
as if she had now acquitted her debt. Wilfrid bowed himself forth. A
resolution of the best kind, quite unconnected with his interests or his
love, urged him on straight to the house of the Lenkensteins, where he
sent up his name to Countess Lena. After a delay of many minutes, Count
Lenkenstein accompanied by General Pierson came down, both evidently
affecting not to see him. The General barely acknowledged his salute.

"Hey! Kinsky!" the count turned in the doorway to address him by
the title of his regiment; "here; show me the house inhabited by the
Countess d'Isorella during the revolt."

Wilfrid followed them to the end of the street, pointing his finger to
the house, and saluted.

"An Englishman did me the favour--from pure eccentricity, of course--to
save my life on that exact spot, General," said the count. "Your
countrymen usually take the other side; therefore I mention it."

As Wilfrid was directing his steps to barracks (the little stir to
his pride superinduced by these remarks having demoralized him), Count
Lenkenstein shouted: "Are you off duty?" Wilfrid had nearly replied that
he was, but just mastered himself in time. "No, indeed!" said the count,
"when you have sent up your name to a lady." This time General Pierson
put two fingers formally to his cap, and smiled grimly at the private's
rigid figure of attention. If Wilfrid's form of pride had consented
to let him take delight in the fact, he would have seen at once that
prosperity was ready to shine on him. He nursed the vexations much too
tenderly to give prosperity a welcome; and even when along with Lena,
and convinced of her attachment, and glad of it, he persisted in driving
at the subject which had brought him to her house; so that the veil
of opening commonplaces, pleasant to a couple in their position, was
plucked aside. His business was to ask her why she was the enemy of
Countess Alessandra Ammiani, and to entreat her that she should not seek
to harm that lady. He put it in a set speech. Lena felt that it ought to
have come last, not in advance of their reconciliation. "I will answer
you," she said. "I am not the Countess Alessandra Ammiani's enemy."

He asked her: "Could you be her friend?"

"Does a woman who has a husband want a friend?"

"I could reply, countess, in the case of a man who has a bride."

By dint of a sweet suggestion here and there, love-making crossed the
topic. It appeared that General Pie