"What should I say?" he queried, making a little gesture, as if to scratch his head. "It's a nasty business. We know it." And muttering to himself, he repeated, "Nasty business, nasty business!"

"Is that all you have to say to me?" she cried.

"My dear friend," he replied, "I am small, my heart is small. It's not a suitable spot for harbouring great anguish of the soul."

"Pshaw, who's speaking of anguish of the soul? But what's to become of us, that's what I should like to know."

"As soon as I come into possession of an unenc.u.mbered manorial estate,"

he replied with a gesture of invitation, "a castle, stables, vehicles and other animate and inanimate things thereunto appertaining, I shall take the liberty of applying to your husband for your hand."

This completely robbed Lilly of her self-control.

"If you keep on making such jokes," she screamed, bursting into tears, "I'll ride to death, now, before your very eyes."

"A difficult thing to do with that well-behaved nag of yours."

Lilly was at her wits' end and simply let the tears course down her cheeks in silence.

At last he changed his tone.

"Well, well, child," he said, "be sensible for a change. All I want to do is tickle the superfluous tragedy out of your soul. And as soon as you make a glad face again I'll try to give the matter most serious consideration."

Lilly wiped her tears away with the flap of her riding gauntlet and smiled at him obediently.

"Fine," he praised her. "'Twas not idle in the poet to write '_O weine selten, weine schwer. Wer Tranen hat, hat auch Malheur._' I'll tell you something. We two pretty orphans were exactly meant for each other and we've been brought together here in this enchanted castle. But we should have _had_ to meet, no matter where, even if we hadn't been two hearts that beat as one long before. To be accurate, the colonel married us right at the beginning, and the only shame is that your marriage contract with him wasn't drawn up accordingly. But that's not to be altered, and we shall have to get around the matter in secret ways. See here, child, we both are headed in the same direction on the sea of life. We have the same to win and the same to lose. So cheer up! Go it!

We're ragtag and bobtail both of us, at any rate."

"I'm not ragtag and bobtail!" cried Lilly, flaring up. "I have pride and a sense of honour, and even if I have sinned a thousandfold, I know how to die for my sins."

"It's not so easy to die. Usually the opportunity is lacking, and when the opportunity once presents itself we show it a clean pair of heels."

Lilly felt a hot desire to protect him against the self-degradation in which he indulged.

"You don't believe what you say," she cried. "You are the boldest, the most daring of men. I know you are. Without a moment's hesitation you would face death for the sake of your honour. If you would only summon all your strength the whole world would lie at your feet. I will always keep reminding you of that. I will work over you until you get back belief in yourself, until you feel you are on the upward road. I will share all your hardships, all your temptations, and I will protect you from all evil. For what should I be here if not for you?"

She felt she was so completely his that she could have thrown herself at his horse's hoofs; and when she recalled the first moments of their meeting that day she could scarcely realise why he had seemed so repulsive and alien.

"You're a touching creature," he replied. "It's really lucky the creepers on your balcony are so thoroughly knit together."

She started.

"What do you mean by that?" she faltered, oppressed by a foreboding of ill.

"And lucky the ladder was left there. It can be leaned against the balcony and the vines can break all they want to, even Miss von Schwertfeger wouldn't notice anything amiss. Well?"

He blinked his silvery lids at her enticingly.

She did not know where to turn to hide her face from his gaze, she felt so ashamed.

"I'll never belong to you again," she cried. "I swear I won't by all the saints! I should be a thing of loathing to myself. As for you, I should utterly despise you. Pah!"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Pity to lose the opportunity," he observed, and turned the horses'

heads.

He appeared at dinner the next day, virtuous in his frock-coat and black necktie. He strutted and sc.r.a.ped and bowed, pursed his lips in extravagant respect, and scarcely dared to take the demita.s.se from her hand.

But Miss von Schwertfeger's eyes pa.s.sed between the two, watching and questioning.

Late that Sunday night the following occurred:

The colonel had gone off to town, Miss von Schwertfeger had retired to her room, and Lilly sat on the edge of the bed in her nightgown brushing her hair.

Suddenly she heard a gentle tapping at the window, as if the autumn wind were blowing a twig against the closed shutter. But the action of the wind is irregular, and this sound kept time--now a little louder, now a little softer--and recurred at even intervals.

It frightened her, and she wanted to run down to Miss von Schwertfeger; but she bethought herself in time. She hastily put on her dressing gown, cautiously raised the window, and opened the shutters the least bit.

At first she saw nothing.

There were no stars in the heavens and the whole of the lodge seemed buried in darkness. Then she thought she saw a staff waving up and down close to the shutter.

She opened the shutter an inch wider and recognised--the pea-shooter.

Now she knew what was up.

She jumped back and drew the bolt. Then threw herself back in bed, where she lay holding her fingers in her ears. But when she withdrew them she again heard that short, regular tapping, which now rose almost to a knocking.

The night.w.a.tch, who made the rounds of the court and park once an hour, need only find the ladder leaning against the balcony and all was lost.

Her fright deprived her of her senses.

Trembling in every limb, she ran into her dressing room, where there was no light, and opened the balcony door about half an inch. Through the crack she whispered into the darkness:

"Go away, and never try such a thing again."

Then she listened with her ear to the opening.

Nothing to be seen or heard.

But when she wanted to close the door it would not go shut. She groped along the crack in search of the obstacle, and came upon a round, hollow, wooden something, which an invisible hand had shoved there.

The wretched pea-shooter!

She moaned and covered her face with her hands, and the next moment was hanging in his arms in a half swoon.

After that evening he had her completely in his power--defenceless, without a will of her own, at the mercy of his wishes and whims.