Countess
Betty.

But upstairs behind the locked door lay the poor puzzle, and before the
door stood Marion, her head leaning against it, her eyes too large for
the small yellow face.

Once the quiet was disturbed by the hurrying hoof-beats of a horse; a
rider galloped into the courtyard, dismounted and carried a letter in
to Count Hamilcar, then rode away again, and once more Sunday stillness
rested on the house.

"Now what is this new thing," wailed Countess Betty, "Hamilcar doesn't
say anything either; every one sits like a sphinx, guarding his own
secret."

And Lisa in her reclining chair said, lost in thought, "Even when they
go and leave us they have something that pleads for help, as if they
were trying to tell us: help me against myself."

"_Qui? monsieur Boris?_" asked Madame Bonnechose.

"No," replied Lisa, "Katakasianopulos."

"_Ah, ma chere, maintenant il ne s'agit pas de monsieur de
Katakasianopulos_," said Madame Bonnechose with vexation.

At last after dinner, when the sun was already shining red above the
rim of the forest, the news spread, "Marion is in Billy's room."

Billy had slept very soundly. Now she was lying on her bed, her
hands clasped behind her neck, her cheeks reddened, her eyes
wonderfully bright. She looked searchingly up at Marion, who stood
before her and gazed anxiously at her.

"First of all," said Billy, "don't look at me as if I had died. You
have eyes that can look at a person as if he were a spider."

--"Oh Billy, that is only because you are so wonderfully beautiful this
minute."

Billy smiled a little: "Oh well, that may be so; sit down and tell your
story.--So you found the slip?"

"Yes."

"Of course you took it to Auntie and your mother?"

"Yes."

"What did they say?"

"Mama said, '_la pauvre petite, elle est perdue._'"

"Ah, she said _perdue_. Do go on." Marion was ready to cry. "Why, I
don't know; Auntie went in to see your father. Your cousins rode away
to look for you, and Moritz said, 'If I only had that Pole in reach of
my pistol.' I made camomile tea for Auntie and Mama."

"Marion, Marion," Billy interrupted, "you're not much on
story-telling."

"No," said Marion, "you know you are to do the telling."

Billy grew serious: "Oh, I see, that is what they sent you here for;
very well. Pull down the shades and sit down by the window and don't
look at me." She shut her eyes and her face took on a tortured
expression. "I went away in the night, you