Baroness de Simonie had gone to her boudoir, but though it was late at night she seemed to feel no disposition to retire to rest, nor was there the slightest expression of weariness on her beautiful face; her eyes sparkled as brightly as they had just flashed upon her guests, and there was no change in the proud carriage of her head, or of the tall, slender figure, still robed in white satin veiled with silver-embroidered white crepe.  The diadem of diamonds still glittered in her hair, and clasps of the same brilliant gems adorned her neck and her bare white arms.

Madame de Simonie was pacing up and down her boudoir with hasty, impetuous steps; her whole being seemed intensely agitated.  Sometimes she paused at the door to listen, then with panting breath resumed her restless movement to and fro, while her scarlet lips murmured:  “He does not come yet.  Something extraordinary must have happened.  But what?  What?  Can he be in danger?  Oh, my God, if this terrible week were once over, that—­But hush!  I hear footsteps; it is he.”

Springing to the door with a single bound like a lioness, she tore it open.

“Is it you, father?”

“Yes, it is I,” he answered, entering the room and cautiously locking the door behind him.

“Thank heaven that you are here, father!” she sighed, with an air of relief.

“What?” he asked, smiling, “has my Leonore again become so affectionate a daughter that she is anxious about her father if he is suddenly called away at night?  For you have been anxious about me—­about me and no one else—­have you not?”

“No, not for you,” she cried impetuously, “for him, for him alone.  Tell me that he is not in danger, that he has nothing to do with the matter on whose account you were so suddenly called away!”

“I swear it, Leonore.  But, my child, the impetuosity of your passion is beginning to make me uneasy.  How will you keep your head clear, if your heart is burning with such impetuous fire that the rising smoke must becloud your brain?  I have allowed you to give yourself the amusement of love, but you must not make a serious life question of it.”

“Yet I shall either perish of this love or be new-born by it,” she murmured.  “But let us not talk about it.  Tell me first why you left the ball so suddenly?”

“Urgent business, my child.  The emperor sent for me to come to Schoenbrunn.”

“The emperor!  What did he want of you?”

“There is something to be discovered, Leonore—­a murderer who seeks the emperor’s life.”

“A murderer!” she said, shuddering; “my God, suppose it should be he!”

“The emperor has received an anonymous letter from Hungary, in which he is informed that, during the course of the next week, a young man will come to Schoenbrunn to murder him.[D] I suppose that this comes directly from the Emperor Francis’ court at Totis.  Some fanatic has told the Emperor Francis that he will go there to murder his hated foe, and the kind-hearted emperor, in his magnanimity has sent this warning to Napoleon.”