But though Meta seemed inclined to be always indulging in recollections, she had no idea of doing so in reality, and her supposition that Elsa did not care a bit about the Count had been confirmed every time she saw the two together; but when she spoke of all that had happened at Golmberg, of the evening meal and the morning walk, it was quite natural, quite unavoidable that amongst others a name should be mentioned which Elsa never voluntarily allowed to pass her lips, and which Meta was convinced sounded day and night in Elsa's heart. Just because it never passed her lips. "There must be a reason for that," said Meta to herself; "and also for his never appearing here where he has been invited and, as I hear from Aunt Sidonie, was so kindly and even warmly received; and the reason must be one and the same, and can only be a sorrowful one, and that must be why Elsa is so sad." But any remaining doubt of the justice of this conclusion vanished when one day, quite accidentally--she had not been looking for it, really not, but her clothes had the most obstinate disposition to get mixed up with Elsa's--she felt a hard substance in the pocket of the blue tarletane dress that Elsa had worn the evening before at the Sattelstädts', which she took at first for a purse, and as she did not quite trust the lady's-maid she thought it best to take it out; and when she had taken it out she found to her great surprise that it was a pocket-compass in a pretty little ivory box. And in the inside of the box was engraved in very small, but quite legible, golden letters, a certain name which Elsa seemed quite to have forgotten. Meta had thought that as wisdom and discretion were now a point of honour with her, she could not do better than keep silence as to her discovery; had closed the box again--not without a most indiscreet smile--slipped it back into the pocket, and sat down in the window to write to her mamma, and was so deeply absorbed in her writing that she never looked up once when Elsa, who had only gone to look after her household affairs, returned and walked up and down the room two or three times without saying a word, each time coming a little nearer to the tarletane dress, which was hanging carelessly over the back of a chair; and at last--Meta had again got into trouble with her writing and could not of course look up--took the dress from the chair and hung it up in the wardrobe. And in doing so the case must have fallen out, though Meta heard nothing drop; at any rate, there was nothing now in the pocket, as Meta assured herself when Elsa again went out--not by accident this time. "I must know how matters stand," said Meta, "for her sake!"