And then she felt herself suddenly begin to sink; the red border went up to the skies ... all round was the buzzing of bees ... and then nothing more. When she came to herself, there was something wet and cold on her breast, and a woman's print skirt, with a smoky smell, brushed her face. It was still green twilight. A breastplate hung opposite her, reminding her of a scoured and brightly polished kettle. She felt so comfortable, she didn't want to stir. A rough, bony hand stroked her forehead and a kindly voice murmured over and over again: "Poor young thing! poor child!" Lilly, thinking it was time to give a sign of returning consciousness, moved, and the strong hand slid under the back of her neck and propped her up, and the kindly voice asked what she would like to do. "I want to go home," said Lilly. "That can't be done this minute," said the voice, "because he gave orders that he must speak to you again before he goes. But take my advice: just say 'Thank you' and 'Good-bye,' and be off as fast as you can. This is no place for a young girl like you." Lilly sat up and arranged her collar. It was the cook bending over her, with her rugged, weather-beaten, thick-lipped face full of compassion. She asked Lilly, as she patted her shoulder, what she should bring her as a pick-me-up--egg and wine, or a liqueur. "Nothing, thank you," Lilly answered. "Let me go home." "You shall, my dearie, but I must call him in first." She shuffled to the door, and Lilly reached for her hat, on which she must have beep lying, for it was more out of shape than ever. "I shall have to get a new one now," and she tried to calculate how much she could afford to give out of her narrow means. The door opened and he came in, followed by the old cook. Lilly was no longer frightened.... Everything seemed far, far off--he too. Nothing seemed to matter. "Now she's ready to be put into a cab," suggested the cook. "Your presence here is not required any more!" he thundered at her. The cook ventured to mumble an objection. "Go!" he roared. And she scuffled out. Lilly's sensations were now only those of languid fear. "I wonder what he means to do with me?" she thought. Her own fate scarcely interested her at all. He paced up and down, the silver spurs on his heels clanking. "We must have some light," he said. "Clearness is essential to the matter in hand." He rang for the man-servant who had smiled in that sly, mocking way. The man lighted the jets of the chandelier and retired, with a sidelong inquisitive glance at Lilly--but no smile this time. She was still sitting on the couch where she had been when she regained consciousness. Her mind seemed a blank as she twirled her old felt hat round and round. In the brilliant light cast from the ceiling she saw the colonel in all his resplendence, still silently brooding, as he paced up and down.