“I regret very much, baroness, that you have had an unpleasant experience like this—­here in our peaceful neighborhood, where every one is so honest that you might leave your purse lying out in the court; no one would take it.”

The baroness laughingly interrupted him: 

“The robber adventure amused more than it frightened me.  All my life I have wanted to see a real Hungarian robber, of whom the Viennese tell such wonderful tales.  My wish has been gratified, and I have had a real adventure—­the sort one reads in romances.”

“Your romance might have had a sorrowful conclusion,” responded Count Ludwig, seriously.

“Yes—­if Heaven had not sent a brave deliverer to my rescue.”

“You may well say Heaven sent him,” smilingly returned the count; “for if there had not been an eclipse of the moon to-night, which I was observing through my telescope, and at the same time taking a look about the neighborhood, I should not have seen the masked men enter the manor.”

“What!” in astonishment exclaimed the baroness; “you saw the men through a telescope?  Truly, I shall have to be on my guard in future!  But,” she added more seriously, lifting from the table the count’s walking-stick, toward which he had extended his hand, “before you go I want to beg a favor.  Please do not mention the occurrence of this night to any one.  I don’t want the authorities to make any inquiries concerning the attempted robbery.”

“That favor I grant most willingly,” replied Count Vavel, who had not the least desire for a legal examination which would require him to tell who he was, what he was, whence he came, and what he was doing here.

“I can tell you why I don’t want the affair known,” continued the baroness.  “The woman in yonder is the one of whom I wrote you some time ago—­the wife of Ladislaus Satan, or, as he is called, Satan Laczi.  Should it become known that a robbery was attempted here, the villagers will say at once, ’It was the wife of the robber Satan Laczi who helped the men to rob her mistress,’ and the poor woman will be sent back to prison.”

“And do you really believe her innocent?”

“I can assure you that she knew nothing about this matter.  I shall not send her away, but, as a proof that I trust her entirely, shall let her sleep in the room next to mine, and let her carry all my keys!” To emphasize her declaration, she thumped the floor vigorously with Vavel’s iron-ferruled stick.

Involuntarily the count extended his hand to her.  She grasped it cordially, and, shaking it, added:  “Don’t speak of our meeting to-night to any one; I shall not mention it, I can promise you!  And now, I will give you your stick; I am certain some one at home is anxious about you.  God be with you!”

At home Count Vavel found Henry on guard at the door of Marie’s room, his musket cocked, ready for action.

“Did anything happen here?” asked the count.  “Did Marie waken?”