After this revelation, Nadia kept her eyes open, and arrived before long at the conclusion that very few people came to the village, with the exception, of course, of the emissaries of M. Drakovics, who were not charged with messages of one kind or another for her parents. It seldom happened that a letter arrived by post, or was openly delivered; but pedlars and travelling showmen, artisans wandering in search of work, and roaming gipsies, each and all seemed to have a secret understanding with the O’Malachy and his wife. Sometimes a sign, scarcely perceptible save to the initiated, would convey the needed information--sometimes, Nadia felt sure, letters were brought; but she never saw one change hands, nor came upon any trace of it afterwards. It was evident that any documents which might prove compromising were immediately and punctiliously burnt, and this precaution it was that baffled the men employed by M. Drakovics, who had no means of distinguishing the remains of burnt paper among the ashes raked out from the great stove. Another curious fact which Nadia discovered about this time was the secret of the means by which her parents held their necessary consultations without attracting the attention of the spies by prolonged conferences, or wasting a portion of their working hours at night. Coming upon them one day in the sunny spot where they usually sat, she found her mother, as she thought, reading aloud in French; but the first words that reached her ear scarcely sounded as though they were drawn from the novel on Madame O’Malachy’s knee. “You see what Louis says: ‘Our friend X. has come over at last. His Majesty’s promises were too attractive. He engages to bring all his employés with him when the word is given.’ This despatch must be sent on immediately. It will show that there are others upon whom we can depend beside the city guard. ‘“_Adorable Erminie_!” _s’écria Léonide, en se précipitant_----’ What do you want, my daughter?”