r.

Wilhelmine from her powdering-closet could hear Forstner's deep voice,
but, though she much desired it, she could not distinguish the words.
Once she caught the name 'Ferrari,' and then again 'her Highness.' Could
it be the old story of Glaser and the white powder? she wondered.
Impatiently she tapped her foot on the ground. She called Maria and
inquired if Ferrari was in the castle. She was told he had left Urach
early on the preceding morning and had not been seen since. Wilhelmine
grew anxious at this. It struck her disagreeably that the absent Italian
should be the subject of Forstner's early visit. Ferrari had been
strangely gloomy and preoccupied of late, she had remarked. Indeed, he
had brooded in this fashion ever since the Glaser affair. True,
Wilhelmine had taunted him cruelly with his failure, and the man always
took her lightest word to heart. He had conceived an affection for her
which was a trifle inconvenient--a jealous, fierce affection made
grotesque by his ugly, undersized person.

Eberhard Ludwig entered the powdering closet. His face was deadly pale,
and his eyes held a look of horror and disgust which warned Wilhelmine of
some grave occurrence.

'I have news of serious import, Madame,' he said coldly; 'kindly dismiss
your serving-woman. I wish to speak to you in private.'

Maria left the room with a sniff; she was accustomed to better treatment.
In fact, she bade fair to become a tyrant to her lenient mistress.

'Mon Prince!' cried Wilhelmine as the woman disappeared, 'whatever the
news, you seem to show me an ugly frown. I, at least, cannot have
displeased my beloved master, for I have not left his side, and our
commune together cannot have given him offence.' She spoke lightly, but
she watched his Highness's stern face anxiously. It softened at her
words.

'Ah, Wilhelmine, beloved, a terrible thing has happened! And you are
gravely accused.' Then he poured forth the whole story of Ferrari's
attempt. Wilhelmine listened in silence; she knew that his accusation was
extremely serious, and the facts most difficult to explain away. To her
consternation she saw that his Highness himself half suspected her of
having a hand in the matter.

'Every criminal is allowed to answer his accuser,' she said, when
Eberhard Ludwig finished his narration. He started forward.

'Accuser! Wilhelmine, am I your accuser? Do you think I doubt you? but, O
God! the facts are black against you.'

'Your words do