"Nevertheless," I said to myself, "the resemblance is there! Is it chance? Nonsense! What is chance, anyway, save that for which we fail to grasp the reason? No; there must be some other explanation of it!"

Buried in these reflections, I followed my friend Sperver, who had resumed his walk down the corridor. The portrait of Elfreda, that pure, artless face, blended in my fancy with that of the young Countess. Suddenly Gideon stopped. I looked up; we were standing before the Count's room.

"Go in, Gaston," he said; "I will see, meanwhile, if breakfast is ready, and be with you again in a minute."

I entered noiselessly, and made out, in the dim light, the broad figure of Becker, the forester, sprawled out leisurely in his armchair beside the bed and drowsing over his vigil.

The Count was sleeping quietly, with every indication that this desirable state of things would continue. Seeing no reason for remaining longer, I directed Becker to let me know at once if the master should wake, and I withdrew to the hall, where I met Sperver returning to get me.

"The Countess is waiting for you in the dining-room. She is overjoyed at the news of her father. Poor woman! It has been a hard strain upon her, for she insists on remaining close beside the Count, and her strength is not equal to the task."

"So it seemed to me," I replied; and I secretly regretted that I saw no way in which I could properly suggest to the Countess that she should share her watchfulness more with others.

We reached the dining-room. Sperver announced me and departed.

My eyes fell first upon Odile, seated at the head of the table in a high-backed oaken chair. She was dressed in a gown of gray stuff, simply fashioned, with a bodice of white velvet worked in gold. Her superb figure was perfectly set off by the almost severe outlines of the dress.

"It is she," I thought: "Hugh's first wife. There is the noble forehead; there are the long lashes, the somewhat languid bearing, and the indescribable smile."

And as I gazed, the dream of last night recurred to me in all its charming vividness, and I felt that, far from entering upon her world but a few hours since, I had known her—aye, and loved her, too!—for years.

"Good morning, monsieur!" she said in answer to my salutation, as she rose and rested one hand on the chair-back. "It seems that your presence here has already worked a change for the better. Our good Sperver tells me that my father's condition is improved."

"I am delighted to be able to assure you that it is so, mademoiselle. We must endeavor to confirm these bettered conditions."

"I am so thankful!" she exclaimed. "Who knows but it was Providence that brought you here?" and she indicated my seat at the end of the table opposite her.

Bowing to the housekeeper, who sat before the broad fireplace, with her spectacles thrust back on her forehead, plying her busy needles, her lap filled with knitting-work which momentarily grew as she rocked back and forth in time to the ticking of the tall clock, I took the seat which Odile designated, experiencing a sense of rare contentment as I reflected upon my surroundings. Decidedly, my present employment combined pleasure with the exactions of duty.

No further mention of the Count's condition was made during the repast, Odile preferring apparently to confine herself to other subjects.

"Sperver," she said presently, "has often spoken of you to us with much pride and affection. Your relationship with the old steward is a romantic one, is it not?"

"Rather," I replied. "It began some twenty years ago with his pulling me out of a swamp into which I got myself, through my desire to imitate his custom of roaming the forest."

Then, as Odile smiled and seemed to be waiting for me to continue, I resumed:

"I distinctly remember how, one morning, I escaped the vigilance of my old nurse, Gideon's wife Gertrude, and arming myself with my father's old sabre, I sallied into the forest with a vague notion of performing some similar exploits to those which Gideon was never tired of telling me. I had not gone far when, finding the forest very dark and lonely, and quite unlike what I had fancied it, I began to repent of my resolution and to wish I was safely at home again. The sabre, too, had grown very heavy, and everything about the undertaking having fallen far short of my anticipation, I turned around and began to retrace my steps. Having only such knowledge of direction as a boy of eight would be likely to have, I soon lost my way, and in attempting to cross the swamp of the Losser by picking my path along the tufts of grass above its surface, I lost my footing and slipped into the mud. Fortunately Sperver happened to be passing in the neighborhood. He heard my cries, and promptly coming to my aid, he pulled me out and carried me to safer ground. Meanwhile my absence from home had been discovered, and the men servants had been sent in all directions to search for me. My father was so delighted at seeing me again, unharmed, in Sperver's arms, that he rewarded his ranger with a brand-new carbine and a brace of his favorite hounds."

I laughed as I recalled this incident, and the Countess joined me in it, continuing after a little:

"And your old home?"

"It has passed into other hands. On the death of both my parents, which occurred within a few years, I was left entirely without resources, save such as I could create for myself, and it became necessary to dispose of the estate in order to get the means which I required to pursue my studies."

It seemed the most natural thing in the world to be thus confiding to Odile my intimate affairs, though ordinarily I guarded such matters with jealous care; but I felt, I know not why, that her expression of interest was more a wish to learn the real facts of my condition than merely to evince a civil concern in my interests. Such feelings are intangible; they cannot be explained.

"You are living now in TÜbingen?"

"Yes; after six years' study in Germany and France, I have returned to the scenes of earlier times to try what fortune may have in store for me. I feel that I never should be contented anywhere else; and I am better satisfied to remain here with a modest success than in the cities with, maybe, a more considerable one."

"How well I can understand that feeling," replied the Countess musingly. "Long ago, when we used to visit the court each year, I remember that, in spite of all its gaieties and pleasures, so well calculated to charm young minds, I was always glad when the time came to return to the Castle; and that for a girl of eighteen is unusual, I think."

I was silently musing upon the fair face opposite me, and the charming personality of my noble hostess, which piqued my curiosity and aroused in me a singular desire to learn more of it. The young Countess conducted the affairs of the table with captivating grace, and the ready Offenloch was ever on the watch for her slightest nod or glance. Truly, I felt myself under a spell no less potent than the companions of Ulysses of old.

Rousing myself at length from these agreeable reflections, I resumed:

"You too, mademoiselle, are fond of the hunt, I suppose? for the Count's devotion to it is proverbial."

"Yes!" she replied, "when it is not a deer or fox that is being hunted. Somehow the wild boar claims less of my sympathy, for it is often a question which comes off the better, the man or the beast."

The truth of this remark it was reserved for me to learn at a later day.

"As for me, I have never had any experience in the chase, as the years which I might have spent so were passed in foreign cities, but some time I hope to give it a thorough trial."

A pause succeeded, during which Odile prepared the coffee. From time to time I glanced at Marie, whose admiration for my person expressed the evening before seemed in no way to have decreased, judging from the senile simper which invariably appeared on her face when she caught my eye.

"This Castle has an indescribable charm for me," I continued after a little; "it has such a delightfully ancient air, and its old stones seem so full of romance;" and my eyes wandered to the two suits of armor at the further end of the room, which from their shadowy corners nodded at each other, gaunt and sightless, in the uncertain firelight.

"I am fond of it," replied Odile; "indeed, I feel that I could never be happy anywhere else; but at times it is lonely, nevertheless."

Then I began to reflect upon the singular vow which this charming young creature, so eminently lovable in every trait of character and person, had taken, it seemed almost wantonly and in a spirit of perversity; and yet I was satisfied that no such explanation could be sufficient, for I felt instinctively that no small or trivial thought could gain admittance to Odile's mind.

"Perhaps," I thought, "some day the wanderer will come to implant the magic kiss, and she, like others of her sisters, will be obliged to obey the inexorable laws of the little god."

So I thought. It seemed to me that one might be happy here, could he continue forever, as I was then, in Odile's companionship, amid gay companies and festivals, hunting-parties and the like, which I felt would become immediately inaugurated, were the Count's recovery to become an established fact. Then my thoughts reverted once more to my patient, and, speculating for the fiftieth time on all that Sperver had told me of his master, I was recalled to a less alluring train of reflections, and I became grave as I realized the burden of duty which rested upon me.

An hour passed, the breakfast was finished. I rose and took leave of the Countess, who inclined her head with a friendly smile. As I stepped into the hallway, I descried Sperver in the distance.

"The Count has waked, and he wishes to see you," he said, as he reached me.

"He is no worse?" I asked.

"Apparently not; he seems quiet enough."

Still engrossed with the experience of the last hour passed in the dining-room, I moved along with Sperver down the corridor.