knowledge of his distinguished
presence. Several troopers were lounging about. At the sight of the
baron they rose.

"Messieurs," he said, "this is Monsieur Carewe, who was expected."

"Glad to see you!" they sang out in chorus. They bowed ironically.

Maurice gazed toward the door. As he did so four pairs of arms enveloped
him, and before he could offer the slightest resistance, he was bound
hand and foot, a scarf was tied over his mouth, and he was pushed most
disrespectfully into a chair. The baron's mouth was twisted out of
shape, and the troopers were smiling.

"My faith! but this is the drollest affair I ever was in;" and the baron
sat on the edge of the table and held his sides. "Monsieur Carewe! Ha!
ha! You are a little too stiff to dance, eh? Shall I tender your excuses
to the ladies? Ass! did you dream for a moment that such canaille as
you, might show your countenance to any save the scullery maids? Too
stiff to dance! Ye gods, but that was rich! And you had the audacity
to return here! I must go; the thing is killing me." He slipped off the
table, red in the face and choking. "The telegraph has its uses; it came
ahead of you. We trembled for fear you would not come! Men, guard him
as your lives, while I report to Madame, I dare say she will make it
droller in the telling."

He stepped to the door, turned, looking into the prisoner's glaring
eyes; he doubled up again. "We are quits; I forgive you the broken
arm; this laugh will repay me. How Madame the countess will laugh! And
Duckwitz--the General will die of apoplexy! O, but you are a sorry ass;
and how neatly we have clipped your ears!" And into the corridor he
went, still laughing, heartily and joyously, as if what had taken place
was one of the finest jests in the world.

Maurice, white and furious, was positive that he never would laugh
again. And the most painful thought was that his honesty had brought him
to this pass--or, was it his curiosity?

* * * * *

Fitzgerald stood alone in the library. The music of a Strauss waltz came
indistinctly to him. He was troubled, and the speech of it lay in his
eyes. From time to time he drummed on the window sill, and followed with
his gaze the shadowy forms on the lawns. He was not a part of this fairy
scene. He was out of place. So many young and beautiful women eyeing him
curiously confused him. In every glance he innocently read his disgrace.

At Madame's request he had dressed himself in the uniform