y steward to be sent for at once."

"By what messenger?"

And then for the first time the countess remembered there was not a
living soul in the house.

She grew very grave.

"It is truly a problem," continued the priest, "to know how we are to
get out of the castle."

"What do you mean?" asked Theudelinde, who was so weak-minded that she
always required to have everything explained to her.

"We two are quite alone in this house," returned the abbe. "If I go
away to get the necessary assistance for packing up your things and
making the arrangements for departure I must leave you alone here."

"I would not for all the world remain alone here."

"Then you have the alternative of accompanying me on foot to the
nearest post-house in the adjacent village."

As he spoke the snow-storm was heard outside beating against the
window. Theudelinde shivered.

"Why cannot we drive? My horses are in the stable."

"But I can neither harness them nor drive them."

"Oh, I should never think of such a thing!"

Nevertheless, the countess had now to consider whether she should
remain alone in the castle or take the alternative of accompanying the
priest in a heavy fall of snow.

"Somebody is knocking at the door," said the abbe.

"It must be my steward," returned Theudelinde. "He has heard what has
happened, and has come to our assistance."

"But there is no one to open the door. Your portress was one of the
ghosts."

"She was the old witch who danced on the table."

"Have you by chance a second key?"

"It hangs there on that large bunch to the right."

"Then I will take it with me, in case there is none in the lock."

"But the dogs, father, they will tear you in pieces. They are fierce
to strangers."

"I will call them by their names, if you will tell me what they are."

"I don't know their names," returned the countess, who never troubled
herself about such a common thing as a watch-dog's name.

"Then I must shoot them."

"But, father, as gently as you can." By this Theudelinde did not mean
to appeal to his compassion for the dogs, but to remind him to spare
her sensitive nerves.

The abbe took his revolver and went on his mission; he carried no
lantern with him, for daylight had come.

Both the watch-dogs lay one on each side of the doorway. They were
chained loosely, so that they could keep well clear of one another,
but it was impossible to pass between them to the door, if you escaped
being bitten b