About noon Leonore came back to life, and succeeded in making a very bewitching toilet despite the absence of her maid.  Whether she peeped into any drawers or other places, is left to feminine readers to decide.  If she did, she certainly had ample authority from Peter.

This done she went into the study, and, after sticking her nose into some of the window flowers, she started to go to the bookshelves.  As she walked her foot struck something which rang with a metallic sound, as it moved on the wood floor.  The next moment, a man started out of a deep chair.

“Oh!” was all Leonore said.

“I hope I didn’t startle you.  You must have kicked my sword.”

“I—­I didn’t know you were here!” Leonore eyed the door leading to the hall, as if she were planning for a sudden flight.

“The regiment was relieved by another from Albany this morning.  So I came up here for a little sleep.”

“What a shame that I should have kept you out of your room,” said Leonore, still eyeing the door.  From Leonore’s appearance, one would have supposed that she had purloined something of value from his quarters, and was meditating a sudden dash of escape with it.

“I don’t look at it in that light,” said Peter.  “But since you’ve finished with the room for the moment, I’ll borrow the use temporarily.  Strikers and anarchists care so little for soap and water themselves, that they show no consideration to other people for those articles.”  Peter passed through the doorway towards which Leonore had glanced.  Then Leonore’s anxious look left her, and she no longer looked at the door.  One would almost have inferred that Leonore was afraid of Peter, but that is absurd, since they were such good friends, since Leonore had come all the way from Newport to see him, and since Leonore had decided that Peter must do as she pleased.

Yet, curiously enough, when Peter returned in about twenty minutes, the same look came into Leonore’s face.

“We shall have something to eat in ten minutes,” Peter said, “for I hear your father and mother moving.”

Leonore looked towards the door.  She did not intend that Peter should see her do it, but he did.

“Now what shall we do or talk about?” he said.  “You know I am host and mustn’t do anything my guests don’t wish.”

Peter said this in the most matter-of-fact way, but Leonore, after a look from under her eyelashes at him, stopped thinking about the door.  She went over to one of the window-seats.

“Come and sit here by me,” she said, “and tell me everything about it.”

So Peter described “the war, and what they fought each other for,” as well as he was able, for, despite his intentions, his mind would wander as those eyes looked into his.

“I am glad that Podds was blown to pieces!” said Leonore.

“Don’t say that.”

“Why?”