Alina, however, did not stir from the place, but remained, staring at the stranger, with her "How!--what!--what's this?--what does this mean?" Hereupon Peregrine began to tell of a countess, perhaps a princess, whom he had met at the bookbinder's, who had fainted in the streets, whom he had been forced to carry home; and, as Alina still remained immoveable, he cried out, stamping with his feet, "Fire, I tell you, in the devil's name!--tea!--salts!" At this, the old woman's eyes glared like a cat's, and her nose was lit up with a brighter phosphorus. She pulled out her huge black snuff-box, opened it with a tap that sounded again, and took a mighty pinch. Then, planting an arm in either side, she said with a scoffing tone, "Oh yes, to be sure, a countess!--a princess! who is found at a poor bookseller's, who faints in the street! Ho! ho! I know well where such tricked-out madams are fetched from in the night-time. Here are fine tricks! here's pretty behaviour! to bring a loose girl into an honest house; and, that the measure of sin may be quite full, to invoke the devil on a Christmas night!--and I, too, in my old days am to be abetting! No, Mr. Tyss--you are mistaken in your person; I am not of that sort: to-morrow I leave your service." With this she left the room, and banged the door after her with a violence that made all clatter again. Peregrine wrung his hands in despair. No sign of life showed itself in the stranger; but at the moment when, in his dreadful distress, he had found a bottle of Cologne water, and was about to rub her temples with it, she jumped up from the sofa quite fresh and sound, exclaiming, "At last we are alone! At last I may explain why I followed you to the bookbinder's--why I could not leave you to-night! Peregrine! give up to me the prisoner whom you have confined in this room. I know that you are not at all bound to do so; I know that it only depends upon your goodness; but I know, too, your kind affectionate heart; therefore, my good, dear Peregrine, give him up--give up the prisoner!" "What prisoner?" asked Peregrine, in the greatest surprise. "Who do you suppose is a prisoner with me?" "Yes," continued the stranger, seizing Peregrine's hand, and pressing it tenderly to her breast--"yes, I must confess that only a noble mind can abandon the advantages which a lucky chance puts into his hands, and it is true that you resign many things which it would be easy for you to obtain if you did not give up the prisoner; but--think, that Alina's destiny, her life, depends upon the possession of this prisoner, that----" "Angelic creature!" interrupted Peregrine, "if you don't wish that I should take it all for a delirious dream, or perhaps become delirious on the spot myself, tell me at once of whom you are speaking,--who is this prisoner?" "How!" replied the maiden--"I do not understand you; would you deny that he is in your custody? Was I not present when you bought the hunting-set?"