Mrs. Ulrica during the entire day was filled with wonder at the sudden change that had taken place in her husband, and if she could have for a moment entertained such a thought, she would have believed that her husband had become acquainted with some intriguing female.

But among her female acquaintances in the neighborhood, there was not one whom Fabian had not seen at least twenty times, and he had undergone each new ordeal with a firmness which proved that he was out of all danger.

This point once settled, Mistress Ulrica was more composed, and after having spent the day in attending to her domestic duties, she retired to her bed at an early hour, for she always felt weary and ill-humored when her Fabian, whom she really loved, was not at home to hear her tender words and reproaches.

About an hour had elapsed after Mrs. Ulrica had fallen asleep.  The servant also slept soundly, for, although she had been told to wait for her master, she had satisfied her conscience by leaving the hall door unlocked—­contrary to her mistress’ strict command—­and then retired to her bed.

As before said, Mrs. Ulrica had been asleep about an hour, when she was disturbed by a singular noise which resembled the shuffling of feet near the bed.  She opened one eye that she might warn her husband that one of his first duties should be not to disturb his wife’s slumbers.  But the warning produced no effect.  This being the case, Mistress Ulrica found it necessary to open the other eye, that by the aid of the night light she might discover Fabian’s true condition.

She first glanced towards the sofa; it was empty.  Then she looked towards the easy chair; but as this stood partially in the shadow of the large bed curtains, she was able only to perceive a pair of feet, and it was these very feet that had the impertinence to shuffle in her room, without asking her permission.

“Fabian,” she exclaimed, “are you not ashamed of yourself?  What are you doing?”

But Fabian did not reply.

“Ah, you foolish man, I see now that you have been made drunk, you could not withstand their entreaties, poor man; please prepare for bed.”

And yet no answer.

“He is as drunk as possible.  Go to your own room, Fabian; be careful, do not take a light with you, and do not fall down stairs and hurt yourself.  Are you going to move to-night?  Shall I ring the bell for the servants, that they may carry you to bed?”

Not receiving a reply, Mrs. Ulrica tore aside the bed curtains, and extending her hand, placed it upon a strange head of hair.

“Heavens!” she exclaimed, “that is not my husband!”

“What of that, it is the husband of another,” replied a calm voice.

Terror prevented Mrs. Ulrica from crying aloud.  “A thief!” she gasped.

“I do not think so,” replied the voice.

“Who are you then?” stammered she.

“Sleep quietly, you shall not be disturbed.”