ing has come in here which does not belong to us, but there
is no reason why we should surrender to it: we insist on our way, and
that ends it."

Wearily the count leaned back and shut his eyes; his sister looked at
him with alarm. "What ails you, Hamilcar?" she asked, "you are so
pale."

The count motioned impatiently with his hand. "I shall manage," he
said, "circulation and heart-beat simply won't listen to us, and the
only trouble is that they are forever meddling with our affairs. There
is an error here in the contract that we call our life. But for the
rest, it is old age, Betty, just that, and that is after all
comprehensible."

Countess Betty softly left the room, and outside she said to Madame
Bonnechose, much troubled, "_Chere amie_, my brother requires of us
that we have devotions; there is nothing to be done, so please call the
chamber-maids and the butler, _o ma chere, il est terriblement
philosophe._"

Life at Kadullen did not surrender; there were devotions, Count
Hamilcar appeared at breakfast, pale and weary, but his conversation
with the Professor did not falter. They spoke of the yellow race, and,
as if even that were not sufficiently remote, of the Bismarck
Archipelago. Embarrassed silence burdened the remaining company. Egon's
and Moritz's places were vacant, for at the news of Billy's
disappearance they had ridden away and were not back yet. Lisa rejected
all food, and looked out and away over the heads of the breakfasters
with her beautiful eyes. "Today Lisa is altogether in 'Marathon,'" Bob
whispered to Erika. Even Mr. Post and Miss Demme wore a serious, even
somewhat proudly repellent mien. Mr. Post had said to Miss Demme before
breakfast, "It is plain to see that this so-called aristocratic culture
cannot hold its ground: there is much that is rotten at the core after
all." Whereupon Miss Demme, shaking her short curls, had answered,
"There is simply a lack of inward freedom."

After breakfast the professorial family drove away, taking a hasty and
over-affectionate farewell. Countess Betty had tears in her eyes.

"I felt," she said later, "as if Billy had died and they had just paid
a visit of condolence."

Then came the afternoon hours with the steady brightness of
the mid-summer day, with the quiet flaming of the bright colors
in the garden-beds, the Sunday lack of happenings, the troubled
sitting-together-and-waiting.

"Oh dear, if you only know what you were waiting for," sighed