For one moment the Grand Duchess stood motionless. The rigid lines in her face almost terrified me. Not a tremor shook her at the contemplation of the dead girl's glassy eye. "Let's go back," she said at length, "we must let them know about this fresh calamity." From my trembling fingers she took the light, engraved gun which had been Melusine's, and laid it down beside the corpse. She signed to me to stay behind, and went off quickly. Left alone with the corpse, at first I couldn't bring myself to look at it. My God! where was now that lovely smooth skin, that perfect oval face, those melting eyes. Loathsome, bloody pulp of flesh, earth and hair. Disgusting green insects were already buzzing round the horrid mass. I cut a leafy hazel branch and kept brushing them off, much as the old muffin men at home brush the flies off their trays with paper fans. The Grand Duchess was soon back. Madame von Wendel, two or three waiting-women and Melusine's maid came with her, weeping copiously. With her usual self-possession she gave the necessary orders. Melusine's body was placed on a stretcher and carried to the palace. Just as we reached it we saw the Grand Duke coming to meet the sad procession. He was on his way to visit the casualties of the night, when he was informed of the new blow that had fallen upon the Court of Lautenburg. He rushed up visibly moved. "Oh, madame," he said, pressing Aurora's hand, "what a dreadful misfortune." "Fate brings these catastrophes, sir," replied the Grand Duchess, with wonderful self-possession. "However did it happen?" "How should I know, sir?" replied Aurora. "Truth to tell I know no more about it than you yourself know of the origin of tonight's fire." The blow went home, but the Grand Duke did not lower his head. "You are right, what does it matter how it happened since the dreadful results are only too self-evident? Let me associate myself with you in mourning the terrible loss you have suffered in Fräulein von Graffenfried's death." "Terrible it is, sir," replied Aurora, "and that is why I hasten to express my gratitude to you, since I have you to thank for the fact that it is not utterly irreparable. Perhaps you had some forebodings of what was to come when you decided to give me a second confidante in the person of Monsieur Vignerte?" Frederick-Augustus bit his lips. But his reply was terrible. "I know, Madame, that you value M. Vignerte's services highly, and I am delighted. And if Fräulein von Graffenfried's dreadful end moves me so much, in its effect on yourself, it is because I know that there are some things for which a woman is irreplaceable."