And sometimes it occurred to Lilly that she herself was no better than the poor maid Katie, whom they had chased from the castle. CHAPTER XXII It was shortly before midnight one evening late in November. Miss von Schwertfeger had said good-night, and _he_ was sitting at Lilly's pillow wet and frozen through. He had been standing in the chilly drizzle a long time before the signal agreed upon--two rattles of the shutter bolt--had summoned him to her room. Now, everything was serene. The entire house was asleep; the watchman had made his rounds, and the ladder, which Von Prell drew up after him for greater security, reposed peacefully on the balcony. The blue-shaded chandelier bathed the warm, perfumed room in the light of a summer evening. Drops of rain splashed softly against the shutters, and the November wind whined like a beggar. Lilly lay comfortably under her blue silk quilt, holding his hand and dreaming up into his face, which, even in moments of self-abandon, retained its expression of abashed roguery. She saw the freckled bridge of his nose, the white-lashed, blinking eyes, the peaked chin covered with stubble and almost hidden by the green collar of his working jacket. He could no longer smarten himself for her sake. His housemates might notice the change. They did not say much to each other. If only he was with her, he who belonged to her in life and death, who like herself had been cast astray in this strange world. She drew his head down and stroked his forehead smooth from lack of a man's cares, and wiped away a few drops still clinging to his temples. The clock on the wall struck twelve softly, the hanging lamp swung back and forth, casting long sliding shadows on the ceiling, like the shadow of a rocking cradle, or like great raven's wings flitting to and fro inaudibly. Suddenly from the court came the rumble of carriage wheels, whether in arrival or departure they could not determine. Both started up and listened and looked at the clock. Twelve--impossible! The horses were never harnessed before quarter to two. They would have to wait entirely too long at the station. Perhaps it was the milkman who had been delayed at the railroad in getting his cans. They calmed down. A long, precious hour was still ahead of them, rich in care-free pleasures and oblivion. To express his triumph Von Prell sucked in his cheeks and rounded his eyes. With a luxurious smile Lilly put out her arms and drew herself up to him. At that instant three short, sharp raps sounded on the door opening into the corridor, and Miss von Schwertfeger called: "Open the door, Lilly! At once!" Walter jumped to his feet. When Lilly looked around he had already left the room. She felt a ringing in her ears, a dull desire to let herself sink down; but renewed raps at the door tore her out of bed and insisted upon her turning the key.