"Ah! that you must learn from her own lips. Simply Mademoiselle Vseslavitch she must be to you until she wills it otherwise." She laughed as she read the sud[196]den disappointment written on Paul's face.

[196]

"You remember the old tale of the knight whose kiss transformed the beggar-maid into a king's daughter? Some such method I would suggest, perhaps."

"But I've tried that already!" Paul almost said. But he caught himself in the nick of time.

"How can I ever thank you enough?" he said as he rose to go. "You saw Mademoiselle yourself before she went?" he asked.

"No. She left hurriedly this morning, very early, before my return. My maid told me that she had gone back to her home."

With grateful words Paul made his adieu and hurried away. The door had scarcely closed behind him when a footman entered the morning-room. In his[197] hand he carried a small tray—and on it there lay a letter.

[197]

"A note which Mademoiselle Vseslavitch directed me to give you, Madame," he said.

The Countess opened it.

"Dear Lady:

Dear Lady

"I am going home. Forgive my seeming rudeness. You know my moods too well, I think, not to understand that I have suddenly felt the call of the steppe. And I charge you, my old friend, as you love me, tell no one of my whereabouts. Ever your devoted

"Natalie."

Natalie

That was all.

"This note, François—why was it not given me before?" she asked the footman sharply.

"Ah, pardon Madame—they did not[198] tell me you had returned until just now. And Mademoiselle charged me to deliver it to you with my own hands."

[198]

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