Felix gazed after him with a feeling of painful sympathy. He would much rather have undertaken this difficult mission in his friend's stead. But he knew him too well to dare even to propose such a thing. So he led the two horses by the bridles, pushed open the gate, and entered the court. The hostlers, who were busied about the traveling-carriage, rose up and stared in amazement when they heard the sound of horses' hoofs, and saw this young stranger coolly approaching them. "Good-evening!" he said. "I suppose you still have room in your stable and a few dry blankets. These beasts are as wet as if they had just been drawn out of the water." No answer. The coachman turned the lantern full in the face of the new-comer, and shrugged his shoulders. "You'll be no losers for taking good care of my animals," continued Felix. "In the mean time, I think I can find the stable-door for myself." Without further parley he took the lantern from the coachman's hand--who, in his confusion, was at a loss how to bear himself toward this distinguished-looking gentleman--and proceeded to light his horses to the manger. At this moment he heard a voice calling across the court, urging the people who were unpacking the carriage to make haste. The owner of this voice stepped out of the back-door; and, seeing the people standing there idle, he marched quickly up to the spot with the intention of giving them a sound rating. Before he could utter a word, however, he started back in confusion--for Felix had also stood still, and raised his lantern so that his figure could be distinctly seen. Stephanopulos, bare-headed and wrapped in a shawl, stood before him, presenting an appearance that was anything but imposing. However, observing the sarcastic mien of the young baron, he soon succeeded in recovering--outwardly, at least--his usual presence of mind. "You here!" he cried. "What an unexpected meeting! Really, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes--" "_Bon soir, mon cher!_ Can I get quarters here, too?" interrupted Felix. "Yes, you are right; it is I in person. And, for that matter, though you are surprised to see me here in weather like this, which can hardly be said to offer any great inducements for making country excursions, it is really no more surprising than that I should find _you_. We Northerners are accustomed to winter campaigns. But for one who grew up at the foot of the Parthenon--" "Are you--alone, or--is some one else--" stammered the unfortunate man.