I questioned her eagerly, and was soon assured that the dwarf was none other than the eavesdropper Homyak, and my heart sank as I divined the probable destination of the czarevna’s packet, and pictured her anger and consternation; for of course it would reach the hands of the Czarina Natalia. While Zénaïde talked to me about the dwarf, Mademoiselle Eudoxie hovered at the door of the apartment like a frightened mother bird trying to guard the young ones from the marauder; and as soon as there was a pause, she recurred to her first exclamation. “We must get him out, Zénaïde!” she said, wringing her hands; “we must get him out at once!” “Is there any reason to prevent me from going directly down the stairs and out, the way I did the other evening?” I asked. “Many reasons,” Zénaïde answered quietly. “You are unarmed, and you would never reach the gate of the courtyard.” I began to share mademoiselle’s evident anxiety. We all three gazed at each other in perplexity, only Zénaïde’s face expressed a keen thoughtfulness that reassured me. I felt that she had all a woman’s delicate intuition and a lively intelligence. “There is only one way,” she said at last, glancing with a smile from Mademoiselle Eudoxie’s tall, angular form to mine; “it is fortunate that mademoiselle is so tall.” I began to divine her project, and my cheek burned. I knew how keen was a girl’s sense of the ridiculous, and it was my last wish to appear absurd before Zénaïde Feodorovna. “Mademoiselle Eudoxie,” she said, speaking with the assured tone of one whose resolution is formed, “take M. de Brousson down to your apartments, and give him your long mantle and hood and veil, and I will order the carriage for you. You understand, you are ill, and require a consultation with the doctor, and old Konrat can drive the coach.” “Capital! capital!” exclaimed mademoiselle, clapping her hands with the glee of a child. “You are a witch, Zénaïde! Follow me, Monsieur Philippe; we have no time to lose.” I protested. I grew hot at the thought of figuring before Zénaïde in petticoats and cloak, like an old woman; but they would not listen to my objections, and finally I reflected that liberty was sweet, even at the cost of a little laughter at my expense, and it was sweeter still to owe it to Zénaïde. So I was smuggled down the stairs into a little anteroom, off Mademoiselle Eudoxie’s quarters, and there left to array myself in a petticoat and hooded mantle. I took much time to do it, being utterly confounded by the multitude of strings and buttons, and feeling myself a fool for my pains. Having finally completed my toilet, to my great confusion, and tapped on mademoiselle’s door, she opened it and bade me enter her boudoir. Zénaïde was there also, and both women viewed me for a moment in silence, and then Zénaïde gave way to mirth. Her laughter, although musical enough, struck a discord on my ear at that moment.