Her eyes opened and she gazed sleepily into the twilight of mauve curtains, and dreaded her maid's knock. "It must be nearly eight," she thought, and she strove to pick up the thread of her lost thoughts. But a sharp rap at her door awakened her, and a tall, spare figure crossed the room. As the maid was about to draw the curtains, Evelyn cried to her-- "Oh, wait a moment, Herat.... I'm so tired. I didn't get to bed till two o'clock." "Mademoiselle forgets that she told me to awaken her very early. Mademoiselle said she wanted to go for a long drive to the other end of London before she went to rehearsal." Merat's logic seemed a little severe for eight o'clock in the morning, and Evelyn believed that her conception of Isolde had suffered from the interruption. "Then I am not to draw the curtains? Mademoiselle will sleep a little longer. I will return when it is time for mademoiselle to go to rehearsal." "Did you say it was half-past eight, Merat?" "Yes, mademoiselle. The coachman is not quite sure of the way, and will have to ask it. This will delay him." "Oh, yes, I know.... But I must sleep a little longer." "Then mademoiselle will not get up. I will take mademoiselle's chocolate away." "No, I'll have my chocolate," Evelyn said, rousing herself. "Merat, you are very insistent." "What is one to do? Mademoiselle specially ordered me to wake her.... Mademoiselle said that--" "I know what I said. I'll see how I feel when I have had my chocolate. The coachman had better get a map and look out the way upon it."