"My dear, I do not know myself. I had gone to bed early; my husband said he would be working into the morning, as is often his custom. I was in a deep sleep when he woke me suddenly. He told me that you and your maid were being brought in, that you were drugged, that he had sent for a doctor to bring you round. I have been here with the doctor till you came back to consciousness. Would you like to see the Count?" "Indeed I would," cried Nada, whose faculties were quickly coming back to her. "I cannot calm myself until I know what happened between my leaving the Palace and arriving here. And, as well as thanking you, dear Countess, for all your kindness to me, I would like to thank your husband also. It is not a time of night to receive uninvited, or unexpected guests." Madame Golitzine went down to her husband's room and found him closeted with Corsini, who had given him a full account of the proceedings at the Villa Quéro, of his driving back with Zouroff to the Palace, of his stratagem in jumping on the box and driving off, to the surprise of the Prince and his two burly ruffians. The Count had chuckled at the end of the narrative. Things were shaping well for him, to-morrow he would hear his Emperor's hearty cry of--"Well done, Golitzine. I knew you would beat them in the end." "Corsini, my dear fellow, you are wasted on music. Give it up, and I will get you a big post in the Secret Police." But the Italian shook his head. "Many thanks, Excellency, but I do not really love this excitement. Music was my first love, it will be my last." The Countess came in. She knew Corsini well, but did not recognise him in the rough clothes of Stepan, with his face and hands stained. "Nada is quite conscious and her faculties are coming back rapidly," she told her husband; "but she is terribly anxious to know all that has happened since she was drugged. She wishes to see you. Of course, I can tell her nothing, as I have not had time to hear anything from you." "She is not too excited?" questioned the Count. "Only from anxiety to know. She will grow very excited if she is kept much longer in suspense." The Count beckoned to Corsini. "Let us go to her. You can explain better than I." But Corsini shrank back and a hot blush showed through the dark stain that had been rubbed on his face in the mean lodging of Ivan the outlaw. "I cannot present myself in these miserable clothes, disguised as I am, to the Princess," he stammered. The Count smiled his quiet rather cynical smile. "I will wager she will penetrate with the first glance through the disguise and the shabby clothes." He turned to his wife. "My dear, permit me to re-introduce to you Signor Corsini, the Director of the Italian Opera. He doesn't cut quite such a brilliant figure as usual, but his excuse is that he has been doing some very good work for the Emperor."