Here, the guests having been arranged on seats at one end of the apartment, and cautioned not to stir on penalty of being sent away, Hannah was escorted to the cabinet by Karl, who could not help whispering as he affected to be arranging her comfortably in her chair, “You are marvellous--you have astonished me--I never knew what a handsome woman you were, before!” To which compliments she answered by half closing her eyes, as she ejaculated, “You may be very clever, my friend, but you do not know everything that there is in this world yet,” and immediately shutting her lids, she fell into a profound sleep. “How unlike Hannah!” thought the Baron, as he mingled once more with his company--“not even like her voice. The accent too--I could have sworn that it was foreign--it is too marvellous--it is past finding out!” His friends were full of curiosity. “What a fine woman!” “We never expected anything of this sort!” “Has she gone to sleep already?” “How soon will they appear?” “What a remarkable power to possess!” These were among the remarks that poured in upon Von Steinberg, almost in a breath, from his various friends. “Ladies! Ladies! I can tell you nothing more than I hope you will see for yourselves before long! Have patience, and I think you will be rewarded! Yes! the Marchesa is a very fine young woman, Derrick, as you say. Her age?--between eighteen and nineteen! Where was she educated? I really cannot say. Somewhere in the country, I believe! She is quite new to London, and has been kept in such close attendance on her husband, since her marriage, that she has had no time, nor opportunity, to go into Society. “But stay--hush!--I think I saw the curtain move. Yes! I am right! There is her principal control, who calls herself, ‘Leonora!’ Mrs. Atkinson, cannot you see the form from where you sit? Draw your chair nearer mine! That is better! You can see the whole figure now!” “But,” argued the lady, with her glass raised to her eye, “isn’t that the Marchesa? Surely, she is very like! Should you have known them apart, Mrs. Derrick?” “Why! where are your eyes?” demanded her husband; “the Marchesa struck me as a stoutly built young lady, with light brown hair! This figure is extremely slim--I should say, thin--and her hair is jet black! I cannot discern any resemblance between the two!” “O! she is certainly thinner,” acquiesced the lady, “and the hair is darker--I admit that--yet the expression, and something about the features, strikes me as resembling the medium. I wonder what sort of feet she has!” At this hint, Leonora thrust her little bare foot beyond the curtain, for the satisfaction of the sitters. It was a lovely foot--white as marble, slim and smooth, and excited the universal admiration of all the gentlemen present. “There can be no mistake about _that_, I think!” exclaimed the Baron eagerly. “But we did not see the Marchesa’s feet!” grumbled the incredulous lady.