point her object and destination? The memory
of his cleverness and initiative in their night ride to Konopisht gave
her new hope. Why should he not come to Sarajevo? Between the lines of
the note she had written him he must have read the tenderness that had
always been in her heart. He was no coward, and the idea of fleeing to
England when danger threatened her would, of course, be the last that
would come into his mind. It was curious that she had not thought of
this before. He would come to Sarajevo if he could--perhaps he was here
now----

A heavy figure stood in the doorway regarding her. She could not at
first decide whether it was a man or a woman for the wide, baggy
trousers resembled a skirt, and the short, sleeveless jacket was similar
to that worn by the male Moslems she had seen in the Carsija. But in a
moment, a voice of rather low pitch spoke kindly, in atrocious German.

"The Fraeulein is at last awake. Does she feel better?"

"Ah, thanks, yes," said Marishka, at last deciding that it was a woman.
"I have slept long."

"Seven hours at least, and like the dead. But you must be hungry. I will
prepare something at once."

"Thank you. And if I could wash my face and hands."

"It shall be as you wish. If you will but come with me----"

Marishka rose, and as she did so, the door with the black grille opened
from within, and a girl came into the room. Like the older woman she
wore baggy trousers and slippers, but above the waist, typifying the
meeting of East and West, a somewhat soiled satin blouse which might
have been made either in Paris or Vienna. The face was very pretty,
regular of feature and oval in contour, but the effect of its beauty was
marred by the hair above it, which was dyed with henna a saffron red.
But she wore a flower at her breast, and in spite of her artificialities
exhaled the gayety of youth. She smiled very prettily and came forward
with a confiding air, giving Marishka her hand.

"I have been waiting for you to wake up," she said in a soft voice. "I
have never known anyone to sleep so soundly."

She laughed like a child who is very much pleased with a new toy, and
holding Marishka's hand, looked at her curiously from head to foot.
There was something very genuine in her interest and kindliness, and
Marishka found herself smiling.

"I must have been very tired," she said.

"I am sorry. You are feeling better now?"

"Yes, but very dirty----"

"Come with me. Zubeydeh will