roopers' swords.

'Y etes-vous vraiment, Mademoiselle?' he called, but the Graevenitz from
the gallery's higher level could see that the mob was not yet entirely
driven from the garden, and she dared not reply.

Zollern guessed that were she in truth hidden in the grotto, she would
prefer to postpone her exit until she could appear without being seen by
the soldiers, who were returning from chasing the intruders. When the
captain of the guard rode up to Zollern he requested him to withdraw his
men, adding that it was unprecedented insolence for the rabble to have
dared to break into his Highness's Lustgarten. It struck the old courtier
that the captain's answer was but half-hearted. Was even the guard
infected with hostility against the Graevenitz?

'The insolence to dare seek a witch here!' said Zollern, scrutinising the
captain's face closely.

'Witchcraft should be punished wherever it hides, Monseigneur,' returned
the captain gravely.

'Yes, indeed, if it _exists_, M. le Capitaine,' replied Zollern; 'but I
beg you draw off your men; I will remain here and rest.'

At this moment Zollern realised that the Graevenitz must be conveyed out
of the country immediately; the guard itself was not trustworthy where
she was concerned. He watched the soldiers till they passed out of sight,
and then he reapproached the grotto.

'Answer me now if you are indeed there, Mademoiselle; I am alone,' he
called, and he heard Wilhelmine's voice from within, but owing to the
rushing waters her words were indistinguishable.

Meanwhile Wilhelmine was struggling to draw back the lever, for she could
not leave the grotto before the water subsided. It was no easy matter to
turn the heavy bar, though the resistance was not so great as when she
had turned on the defending streams, still it lasted several minutes ere
she accomplished her task and heard the splashing and gurgling of the
water subside. Thus Zollern concluded he had been mistaken when he had
fancied he heard her voice within, and when Wilhelmine reached the
doorway of the grotto he was preparing to depart.

She called him softly: 'Oh, my friend, help me home,' and there was a
tone of appeal in her voice. Zollern came to her quickly, and raising her
torn and bleeding hands to his lips, kissed them tenderly. 'Guard me,
protect me, Monseigneur. I am very lonely,' she said.

'Until death takes me I will be your friend,' he replied, and Madame de
Ruth would have suffered a jeal