Next day, the chasseur Jacob Baumwalder Feckelwitz deposed in full company at Sonnenberg, that, obeying Count Serabiglione’s instructions, he had gone down to the city, and had there seen Lieutenant Pierson with the ladies in front of the hotel; he had followed the English carriage, which took up a man who was standing ready on crutches at the corner of the Laubengasse, and drove rapidly out of the North-western gate, leading to Schlanders and Mals and the Engadine.  He had witnessed the transfer of the crippled man from one carriage to another, and had raised shouts and given hue and cry, but the intervention of the storm had stopped his pursuit.

He was proceeding to say what his suppositions were.  Count Lenkenstein lifted his finger for Wilfrid to follow him out of the room.  Count Serabiglione went at their heels.  Then Count Lenkenstein sent for his wife, whom Anna and Lena accompanied.

“How many persons are you going to ruin in the course of your crusade, my dear?” the duchess said to Laura.

“Dearest, I am penitent when I succeed,” said Laura.

“If that young man has been assisting you, he is irretrievably ruined.”

“I am truly sorry for him.”

“As for me, the lectures I shall get in Vienna are terrible to think of.  This is the consequence of being the friend of both parties, and a peace-maker.”

Count Serabiglione returned alone from the scene at the examination, rubbing his hands and nodding affably to his daughter.  He maliciously declined to gratify the monster of feminine curiosity in the lump, and doled out the scene piecemeal.  He might state, he observed, that it was he who had lured Beppo to listen at the door during the examination of the prisoners; and who had then planted a spy on him—­following the dictation of precepts exceedingly old.  “We are generally beaten, duchess; I admit it; and yet we generally contrive to show the brain.  As I say, wed brains to brute force!—­but my Laura prefers to bring about a contest instead of an union, so that somebody is certain to be struck, and”—­the count spread out his arms and bowed his head—­“deserves the blow.”  He informed them that Count Lenkenstein had ordered Lieutenant Pierson down to Meran, and that the lieutenant might expect to be cashiered within five days.  “What does it matter?” he addressed Vittoria.  “It is but a shuffling of victims; Lieutenant Pierson in the place of Guidascarpi!  I do not object.”

Count Lenkenstein withdrew his wife and sisters from Sonnenberg instantly.  He sent an angry message of adieu to the duchess, informing her that he alone was responsible for the behaviour of the ladies of his family.  The poor duchess wept.  “This means that I shall be summoned to Vienna for a scolding, and have to meet my husband,” she said to Laura, who permitted herself to be fondled, and barely veiled her exultation in her apology for the mischief she had done.  An hour after the departure of the Lenkensteins, the castle was again officially visited by Colonel Zofel.  Vittoria and Laura received an order to quit the district of Meran before sunset.  The two firebrands dropped no tears.  “I really am sorry for others when I succeed,” said Laura, trying to look sad upon her friend.