Finally we spied the _schloss._ It had been a convent in some former century, and still had iron bars on the windows. We drove through a muddy lane, passing a sort of barn with grated loopholes, and stopped before a courtyard filled with chickens and geese; on the left was a pigsty, smelling not at all like Westphalian hams, and on the other side a cow- stable. In front was the _schloss_ and the lady of the manor, the honorable Countess herself, on the steps, quite by chance, so it seemed. She led us proudly into the salon. A large bunch of keys hung at her girdle. I wondered why she needed so many! After the coal-bin, wine-vault, and sugar-bowl, and linen-closet had been locked up, what more did she need to lock up? There was no mention that the telegram had been received. Strange! Count B---- was not there, "but would be coming soon." I felt that I could wait. The salon was of the kind that one often sees in houses where the mistress, having no children and plenty of time, embroiders things. Every possible object had a coat of arms and huge crowns embroidered on it, so that you could never forget that you were in the house of ancient nobility, which had the right to impose its crowns on you. All the chairs, tables, sideboards, and things on the walls were made out of the horns of stags and other animals the Count had shot. Sometimes the chairs were covered with the skin of the same, minus the hair, which was missing and moth-eaten in spots. I was taken up-stairs to my bedroom, and I was thankful to see that the horns and crowns had nearly given out before they finished furnishing the first story, and that I had an ordinary middle-class chair to sit on. There were many pictures of Madonnas and saints, from which I inferred that our hosts were Catholics, and a _prie-dieu_, which, strange to say, was made of horns; and the mat in front of my bed was a blaze of the united coats of arms and _two_ crowns! So she was a Countess born, which accounted for the doubleness. We were obliged to make _le tour du propriétaire_, and, of course, as there was no other place to take us to, we went to the stables. There we admired the two cows (Stella and Bella) with horns. They had their names painted in blue and white over their respective heads, but they had no crowns. Then the Count appeared in very nice clothes. I fancy, while we had been admiring Stella and Bella, he had been changing his boots. Owing to these fresh boots we were spared the pigsties. On our return to the house Countess B---- said, "You know, we don't dress for dinner." I thought with dismay of my trunk laden with all its superfluous contents, and what a bore the bringing of it had been, and the opinion my maid would pass on our noble hosts, who "don't dress for dinner," when she unpacked the undisturbed finery which she had thought indispensable.