She was in this state when Tetchen crept up to her room, on that evening on which Peter had been with Herr Molk. "Fraulein," said Tetchen, "you are very unkind to me." "Never mind," said Linda, not looking up into the woman's face. "I have done everything in my power for you, as though you had been my own." "I am not your own. I don't want you to do anything for me." "I love you dearly, and I love him,--Ludovic. Have I not done everything in my power to save you from the man you hate?" "You made me go off with him in the night, like a--like a--! Oh, Tetchen, was that treating me as though I had been your own? Would you have done that for your own child?" "Why not,--if you are to be his wife?" "Tetchen, you have made me hate you, and you have made me hate myself. If I had not done that, I should not be such a coward. Go away. I do not want to speak to you." Then the old woman came close up to Linda, and stood for a moment leaning over her. Linda took no notice of her, but continued by a certain tremulous shaking of her knee to show how strongly she was moved. "My darling," said Tetchen, "why should you send away from you those who love you?" "Nobody loves me," said Linda. "I love you,--and Ludovic loves you." "That is of no use,--of none at all. I do not wish to hear his name again. It was not his fault, but he has disgraced me. It was my own fault,--and yours." "Linda, he is in the house now." "Who--Ludovic?" "Yes; Ludovic Valcarm." "In the house? How did he escape?" "They could do nothing to him. They let him go. They were obliged to let him go."