I started. Could nothing be kept secret in Russia? How many were in my confidence? I regarded the fellow with a feeling of anger. It seemed to me that my affairs might as well be placarded on my back. Whether he interpreted my expression or not I could not tell; but he drew back, and saluting me respectfully, departed in the direction of the Cathedral of Basil the Beatified. I walked on, crossing the Red Place without meeting any one but an equerry of Prince Galitsyn, who passed me with a courteous salutation; and proceeding at a rapid gait, I went out at the Gate of the Redeemer, and made directly for Dr. von Gaden’s house. I was extremely anxious and disturbed. In some mysterious way, my connection with Zénaïde’s flight was an open secret; the whole court, from the czarina and Prince Galitsyn to the humblest gentleman-in-waiting, were acquainted with the circumstance. I could scarcely hope, therefore, that her retreat would remain undiscovered, in which case Von Gaden’s house would be but an insecure asylum for her. I reflected anxiously upon the situation, and could see only one course open; but nothing could be done without her consent, and I felt that Sophia might not be strong enough to protect Zénaïde at this juncture. If I had dared to ask her to marry me at that time, I should have proposed flight to France, difficult and hazardous as that would have been. I believed that it could be accomplished, but I dared not approach her so abruptly; for although I hoped much, I was not yet assured of her regard, and she was hedged in by the training and usage that made a romantic courtship almost impossible. Beset with these reflections, I made rapid progress, looking neither to the right nor the left until I found myself at Von Gaden’s door. As soon as I obtained admittance, I sent a message to Madame von Gaden, requesting to speak with her guest, Mademoiselle Ramodanofsky, or with Mademoiselle Eudoxie. In a few moments the physician’s wife came down alone. Before I had time to repeat my request, she addressed me with an unusually perturbed manner. “I went myself with your message, M. le Vicomte,” she said anxiously, “but I cannot obtain admittance. Your friends have bolted the only door that communicates with the hall from their rooms, and they do not reply to my repeated summons.” Knowing that Mademoiselle Eudoxie was the last person in the world to ignore her hostess, or treat her with discourtesy, I took alarm at once. “Can anything have happened to them?” I exclaimed hastily. “Impossible!” madame replied. “No one has disturbed us, or even inquired for them, and they were well and composed when their breakfast was served. There are three rooms, and they may have fallen asleep in the one farthest from the hall. In no other way can I explain their failure to respond to my calls.” “If you will permit me, madame,” I said at once, “I will go with you to the door. Mayhap I can make more noise, and rouse these fair sleepers.”