her garments. He sprang up the stairs and met her on the first landing. “Not here!” she said nervously. “Sarolta is in bed, and Piroska has a toothache; but who knows?” “Has it ever occurred to you that the Countess Piroska is a spy?” he asked as they crossed the hall to the room Zrinyi called his study, although it had not a book in it. “Possibly,” said Ranata indifferently. “We are accustomed to spies. That is usually one of the duties of the Obersthofmeisterin. But as Sarolta is too wealthy to be bought, and is of a proved fondness for me, I suppose Count von Königsegg thought it wise to have one in my household he could count on. I doubt if she has made any report of consequence so far, for she has bided her time, hoping that the worst would happen; but she will, for she wants to marry you. But it will matter little now! Our time is almost up!” She spoke in a tone of profound dejection. The serenity she had maintained in Sarolta’s presence had dropped from her like a mask. In a moment she withdrew from his embrace and leaned against the window-frame and stared down into the ravine where so many Turks had mouldered to dust. “It is time for the comedy to end,” she said sharply. “Sarolta knows, and before long will interfere. Königsegg is sure to interrogate Piroska before long, if he has not done so already, and there must be many comments in Budapest and Vienna on your long stay here and your constant presence in the palace. Moreover, it is impossible you should remain away from America much longer. The two months you set yourself have nearly passed. Let us talk plainly. My capacity for self-deception is at an end--indeed, for days past it has slipped from me again and again--and I am worried about many other things--” “What things?” asked Fessenden gently. He gathered his faculties and stood looking at her, from the other side of the narrow window, with his piercing and concentrated glance; but he took her hand and held it tenderly. “At least, if we are soon to part, let there be as little to regret as possible. You owe me your confidence--nor is there any one else to whom you would give it.” “Oh!” she exclaimed. “That is true enough! To no other have I ever been as--been frank at all. No one else has ever known me, nor ever can. It has given me the most intellectual and voluptuous delight fully to reveal myself for once in my life--I suppose I do not yet realize how much. After all, why should I complain? I have had what most women never find. And I have that sense of the indestructible bond. I shall have it as long as I live. How many that flutter over this earth, do you suppose, have that sense of an everlasting indissoluble embrace? You feel it now. Will you? Will it content you--that sense of spiritual completeness--can you be faithful to that?” “I should be very grateful for it if I could not find anything better, and I am as capable of complete fidelity as you are. But tell me what other things have worried you.”