She remembered Hans’ sarcastic remarks, “Take care you are not caught in your own net, and fall in love with this young man.” Had he then read her inmost thoughts, this dread accomplice of hers, who trampled humanity under foot, and who had no more respect for joy and happiness than the hail has for the harvest? Suppose it were so? Had she not the right to do as she wished? Was she a slave, linked to obscure and threatening adventurers engaged in some formidable though tremendous task? Or was there equality for both them and herself, in danger, success, and pleasure alike? Who could compel her to do what was displeasing to her—above all, who would dare to attempt it? She knew she was as dangerous as any of them, and they, too, were well aware how powerful and audacious she was. If it were necessary to try conclusions with them, they would see who would come out the winner. She smiled, and her face shone with the light of a glorious graciousness. In that young woman, with those delicate, refined features, who would have discovered the bold, sarcastic Sophia Grodsko? What would Lichtenbach have said, had he seen her, and what would all those have thought who had known her, so faithless and vice-stained, fatal to all who had loved her, and whom she had led on to ruin, dishonour, or death? A young man, the least remarkable of all she had hitherto met, in all probability, had obtained the triumph of making her uneasy and anxious at the thought of what might become of him. Following him in imagination, on his way back to the town, she wondered if it would not have been better to have kept him by her side, instead of allowing him to rush off to the burning works, and especially towards the spot where Hans was watching—Hans, more to be dreaded than all the other scourges combined. She rose, and, already repenting of having shown such a lack of decision, she was deliberating whether or not she ought, herself, to go to Ars, and find out what was taking place there. Prudence checked the impulse. All the same, she mounted to the second floor of the villa, on to a balcony from which a view of the valley could be obtained beyond the trees. There she quickly saw that the danger, if there had been any, had lessened. The smoke was disappearing, not a single flame was to be seen, and the hubbub from the town had calmed down, whilst even the church bell had ceased ringing. She was about to descend, when she saw Milona open the garden gate. The servant was coming along the alley with rapid and uneasy steps. Sophia had a presentiment that she was the bearer of bad news, and gave a sharp, low whistle. Milo mounted the steps all out of breath, and came straight to her mistress— “I have performed your commission,” she said. “I found Hans. He read your note, and placed it back in my hands. Here it is.” “Good. That is not all. What is the matter?” “Agostini is close behind me. He has just landed at Ars.”