He was tired, and the cold water began to chill him, but urged by an impulse which he could not translate he struggled on, ignoring the possibility of surrendering himself to the water and the waiting arms of Death. Elizabeth must live--that much he knew; and so he kept going, kept on until his body was once again racked with pain. He had done so much that night, what more could he do? Why should he do more? If he gave up now he could sleep so easily, so peacefully! His mind worked sluggishly. One, two, three! One, two three! His strong arm, though weakened by strain, continued to strike out regularly. His limbs moved like an automaton, but he still progressed. The rush of the water grew louder, and Wenzel's head began to sing. Much more and it would be the end. Much more... much more... The words twisted themselves into a refrain, and the music was in time to his strokes. Much more... Something scraped the toe of his boot, again and yet again, and he knew he had touched bottom. A few more strokes and he discovered that he could stand. Somehow he stumbled through the water till it dropped from his chin to his hips, from his waist to his ankles, and then--there was no more water. * * * * * * When Elizabeth came to she was in a peasant's hut, lying in a crude bed. Across the room, bending over a log fire, a woman was cooking something, the appetizing odour of which pervaded the room. Elizabeth gazed around wonderingly, unable to collect her thoughts together. But presently she remembered. One after another the vivid details returned to her, concluding with the last terrible jump into an inky nothingness.... Where was her unknown rescuer? She looked around, but except for the peasant woman she could see no one. Then, on a chair she saw a note. It was so brief that it brought the tears to her eyes; just: MADEMOISELLE, You are safe with this woman. _Adieu._ "_Adieu!_" Good-bye! She gazed away. He had almost written _Au revoir_, for as he himself had laid her on the rough blanket, and gazed upon her beauty, his lips had trembled. It was not that she was really like the Zita he remembered, yet... _CHAPTER VII_ The hour was past nine o'clock before the Council meeting broke up, and Eugene Hamburger, Commissary for Agriculture, together with his assistant, Apor, were free to leave. For a while they walked together discussing the work of the day.