"But how, pray, could she have made her way through the investing lines?" asked the sister, in astonishment. "By a daring stroke that seems hardly credible. Fritz told me all about it. This delicate widow of the late Baron Baradlay procured from an old market-woman in Schwechat, the costume and basket of a vegetable-vender, and then proceeded with this woman, on foot, her basket of onions and potatoes on her back, through the lines of the investing army, selling her wares on the way, until she reached the city. She is now here in Vienna, at number 17 Singer Street, in the shop of her attendant market-woman." "And what is her object in all this?" "To take her sons home with her. She wishes to persuade them to return to Hungary and enter the government service there." "Has she spoken with them yet?" asked the nun. "Not yet, fortunately. She only arrived this afternoon. Goldner has spoken with her, and she is to have an interview with her son Richard, the cavalry officer, to-morrow morning. She is allowed to go to him unmolested, and as surely as she speaks with him, he will yield to her. The general will then be informed of the affair through his secret agents, and before the hussars can carry out their plan, the whole squadron is to be surrounded. Who is the commanding officer in your section now?" "The cuirassier major, Otto Palvicz." "Ah, he is the right man for the business. The hussars will be decimated, and Captain Baradlay shot." To all this Edith was forced to listen, but she suffered no look of hers to betray how keenly it affected her. On hearing her lover's probable fate, she nearly choked over a piece of ham, and had to resort to a dose of vinegar to conquer a sudden faintness. Alfonsine could not refrain from venting her spite on her cousin. "Your appetite," said she, "does not seem to suffer greatly at the prospect of losing your lover." Edith helped herself composedly to another slice of ham. "Better to be executed than buried alive," she rejoined. Holding out her glass, she begged her cousin to pour her some chartreuse. "I must get used to it if I am to be a nun," she remarked playfully. Alfonsine handed her the bottle and bade her help herself, and Edith's hand never once trembled as she filled her cognac glass to the brim with the green liquor; then she poured out a glassful for Sister Remigia. "Drink with me, Sister Remigia," she cried, with a roguish smile; "we must take something to keep up our spirits." The nun made a show of reluctance, but was finally obliged to yield to the seductions of her favourite beverage. Meanwhile the hostess proceeded with her instructions.