Miss Chutney was awake long before daylight, anxious to learn the contents of the note, and growing more and more timid as the time for her departure drew near. Even before there was sufficient light whereby to decipher the characters in the letter, she was standing by the window with the note in her hand, poring over each word in the dusk, and so making out the wishes of the Count, as it were, piecemeal. In this manner she found out that, before Miss Wewitz was stirring, she was to descend to the Frenchmen’s apartment in the disguise of the Sister of Charity, when she would be apprised of all the arrangements that had been made for her safety. It was impossible now to retract—with her guardian coming in a few hours. It would be a nice story for Miss Wewitz to tell him—and a very pretty tale she would be sure to make out of it. So, come what might, she had made up her mind to throw herself on the Count’s protection. Accordingly, she proceeded to dress herself in the disguise the Count had provided for her, her hand trembling the while so violently, that she could scarcely fasten the clothes; and though she strove to make as little noise as possible, there was not a brush nor a glass she touched without knocking it against some neighbouring thing, and then was nearly ready to faint at the noise. At last, however, her toilet was completed, and she opened the door as gently as possible on her way to the Count. As the handle still remained in her hand, she heard, to her great horror, the voice of Miss Wewitz calling to her from her bed-room—for the schoolmistress, knowing that it was the day for the Frenchmen’s departure, and expecting that there would be a scene of some kind or other before she got them clear out of the house, had herself been awake since daylight; and having caught repeated sounds of glasses jingling, and other noises, proceeding from Miss Chutney’s room, had felt satisfied that all was not right, and had been sitting up in her bed for some little time, listening attentively to what was going on, when she was convinced she heard the door of that young lady’s bed-room opened. Miss Chutney no sooner heard the voice, than she felt it was no time for her to hesitate; so, descending the stairs as rapidly as she could, she hurried to the Count, begging of him to hide her, for Miss Wewitz was following her. The Count did not take long to tell the terrified girl how well he had arranged matters in the linen-room, and that she need be under no fear of detection if she would but do as he requested her; and then he explained that he intended her to take the place of the lay figure of his talented friend, Adolphe, and to have her removed immediately from the house in that character. All she had to do was, to keep every limb perfectly rigid, and not to move a muscle of her body on any account.