Half an hour later Lilly, dressed in the garments Miss von Schwertfeger had brought, entered the dining room, where breakfast was being served by old Ferdinand, a dried-up, spindle-legged heirloom of a servant. That smooth, round-faced fellow with the mischievous smile, had been dismissed, thank goodness! The colonel came in from his early ride, his eyes sparkling with the pride of proprietorship. The little crisscross veins of his gaunt cheeks were filled with blood, and the grey brushes over his ears glistened with dew drops. The heavy jacket he wore was becoming to him, and the O-shaped legs were hidden under the table. He looked like a kingly old warrior, both evil and kind-hearted. Lilly flew into his arms, and he said with a sweep of his hand about the place: "Well, do you like--your home?" She kissed his hand for the "your home." The dining room was a long chamber, arched at each end and filled with carved pieces of furniture darkened by age. It was only moderately lighted by three large bow-windows giving upon the terrace, from which a flight of railed stone steps led down to the park. At breakfast they discussed the walk they had planned for showing the young mistress her new realm. The colonel would not hear of such a thing as having the people come to the castle and wait upon Lilly ceremoniously. They were wearing their Sunday-best that day at any rate and with no derogation to themselves could receive her in the spots where they lived and toiled. The upper employés, the inspectors and bookkeepers, would come to dinner Sundays, as had been the immemorial custom, and take that as the occasion for paying their respects. "The youngest of them used to be one of my men," remarked the colonel, "a Mr. von Prell--" He stopped short, looked Lilly over thoughtfully, then, as if reassured, continued: "But he left service some time before I did, and he's to learn farming on my estate." This was the very moment for Lilly's happy avowal. But the words died on her lips. She could not--for all her good intentions, she could not. As it was, those great colourless eyes, resting on her face, were putting her to the proof. However, one thing was certain--the colonel knew nothing. His silence had been due simply to the fact that he had not deemed the gay dog worthy of mention. "How's he behaving?" asked the colonel, turning to Miss von Schwertfeger. "Oh, Colonel," she said with a smile, regarding her long, bony fingers, on which her crescent-shaped nails shone like mother-of-pearl, "you know I never denounce unless I have to." "Such a good-for-nothing rascal," laughed the colonel. Lilly, instinctively taking her friend's part, thought the lady's words were in themselves sufficient denunciation. After breakfast they started out on their little expedition.