ing her own bed;
there was no sign of change. Bertha opened the wardrobe,--the dresses
Madeleine usually wore were hanging within; she wandered about the room,
examining every nook and corner, hardly conscious of what she was
doing,--what she expected to find or to miss. All at once she remarked
that a few books, which were favorites of Madeleine and once belonged to
her father, had been removed from the table; but what of that?--they
had probably been placed somewhere else. Continuing her almost
purposeless search, Bertha now drew out the drawers of the bureau: they
usually held Madeleine's linen; they were empty! In violent agitation
the kneeling girl sprang to her feet; her undefined fear was taking
shape. She ran to the antechamber and looked for a little trunk which
had come to the chateau with Madeleine: it was no longer there!

Bertha darted down the stair and rushed into her aunt's presence,
sobbing out in agony of grief,--"She has gone! Madeleine has gone! I
know she has gone, and she will never, never return to us! Her dresses
are there; everything you have given her is there; she has only taken
with her what she had when she came to the chateau, and she has surely
gone!"

Count Tristan pretended to laugh at Bertha's fears, and maintained that
Madeleine would presently walk in, and feel very much flattered by the
sensation she had created, and by her cousin's lamentations over her
supposed flight; adding, jocosely, that it was not easy for a young lady
to disappear in that dramatic manner, except from the pages of a novel.

The countess, who began to be alarmed, desired her son to ring the bell.
Gustave appeared in answer, and, after being closely questioned, was
desired to summon the other domestics. Bettina and Elise promptly obeyed
the command. Their answers were precisely the same as those of Gustave:
they had not seen Madeleine; they could not imagine where she was.

"Baptiste,--where is he?" asked the countess.

Baptiste was in the garden.

"I am going out,--I will speak to him myself, and also institute further
inquiries to satisfy our dear little Bertha; but I warn her that her
dreams of a romantic adventure, and the flight of a young lady from an
ancient chateau and her natural protectors, will probably meet with a
sudden check by Madeleine's walking in from a long ramble."

Thus speaking, the count left Bertha to be consoled by his mother, and
went forth in search of Baptiste. Count Tristan we