The departure of the troops removed one care from Count Ludwig’s mind:  the noise and turmoil would cease, and peace would again return to the silent neighborhood.

One morning when Frau Schmidt brought her basket, as usual, to the castle, there was a letter in it for the count.  He recognized the hand at once; it was from his fair neighbor at the manor.

“HERR COUNT:  As I have something of the utmost importance to communicate to you, I beg that you will receive a call from me this morning before you take your usual drive.  Answer when it will be convenient for you to see me.”

What did it mean?  Something of the utmost importance?  Why could she not have asked him to come to the manor?  The count was puzzled.  And how was he to answer this most singular request?  He could not write it himself; was it not said that he was unable to hold a pen?  He could not dictate the letter to Marie appointing a meeting with the baroness.  Henry was a very shrewd fellow, but he had never learned to write.

At last Count Vavel bethought him of an expedient.  He marked on the back of his card the Roman numerals XI, and trusted that the baroness would understand that she was expected at eleven o’clock.  When the appointed hour drew near, curiosity began to torture the count.  He could not wait indoors, but hurried into the park, where he paced restlessly to and fro amid the fallen leaves.

He listened anxiously to every sound, and consulted his watch every few minutes.  At last the gate bell rang.  He hastened to admit the visitor, and found that the baroness had understood his reply.  He recognized her figure, for the face was closely veiled.  She wore a pale-blue silk gown with wide sleeves—­Marie’s favorite costume.

“It is I, Herr Count,” she said in a low tone, looking anxiously about her.

“How did you come?  I did not hear the carriage,” said Count Vavel.

“I rowed across the cove—­alone, because no one must know that I came.  Can any one see us here?”

“No one.”

“We need not go into the house,” she continued; “I can tell you here why I came.”

Ludwig was more and more perplexed.  He had believed the baroness wished to enter the Nameless Castle out of curiosity.

“My visit,” pursued the lady, “has as little conventionality about it as had yours.  The magnitude of the danger which prompted yours must also excuse mine; I am come to repay the debt I owe you.”

“Danger?” repeated the count.

“Yes; danger threatens you—­and some one else!  Let us come farther into the park, that no one may by a possible chance overhear me.”

When they had reached a sheltered spot the lady again spoke: 

“Do you know anything about Colonel Barthelmy?”

“I received the cards he left here when he called,” indifferently replied Count Vavel.