And the evening too—­how bad it had been; though contrary to her expectations Fritzing showed no desire to fight Tussie.  He was not so unreasonable as she had supposed; and besides, he was too completely beaten down by the ever-increasing weight and number of his responsibilities to do anything in regard to that unfortunate youth but be sorry for him.  More than once that evening he looked at Priscilla in silent wonder at the amount of trouble one young woman could give.  How necessary, he thought, and how wise was that plan at which he used in his ignorance to rail, of setting an elderly female like the Disthal to control the actions and dog the footsteps of the Priscillas of this world.  He hated the Disthal and all women like her, women with mountainous bodies and minimal brains—­bodies self-indulged into shapelessness, brains neglected into disappearance; but the nobler and simpler and the more generous the girl the more did she need some such mixture of fleshliness and cunning constantly with her.  It seemed absurd, and it seemed all wrong; yet surely it was so.  He pondered over it long in dejected musings, the fighting tendency gone out of him completely for the time, so dark was his spirit with the shadows of the future.

They had borrowed the wages—­it was a dreadful moment—­for that day’s cook from Annalise.  For their food they decided to run up a bill at the store; but every day each fresh cook would have to be paid, and every day her wages would have to be lent by Annalise.  Annalise lent superbly; with an air as of giving freely, with joy.  All she required was the Princess’s signature to a memorandum drawn up by herself by which she was promised the money back, doubled, within three months.  Priscilla read this, flushed to her hair, signed, and ordered her out of the room.  Annalise, who was beginning to enjoy herself, went upstairs singing.  In the parlour Priscilla broke the pen she had signed with into quite small pieces and flung them on to the fire,—­a useless demonstration, but then she was a quick-tempered young lady.  In the attic Annalise sat down and wrote a letter breathing lofty sentiments to the Countess Disthal in Kunitz, telling her she could no longer keep silence in the face of a royal parent’s anxieties and she was willing to reveal the address of the Princess Priscilla and so staunch the bleeding of a noble heart if the Grand Duke would forward her or forward to her parents on her behalf the sum of twenty thousand marks.  Gladly would she render this service, which was at the same time her duty, for nothing, if she had not the future to consider and an infirm father.  Meanwhile she gave the Symford post-office as an address, assuring the Countess that it was at least fifty miles from the Princess’s present hiding-place, the address of which would only be sent on the conditions named.  Then, immensely proud of her cleverness, she trotted down to the post-office, bought stamps, and put the letter herself in the box.