Mistress Ulrica continued to feel for the bell cord.  “I believe,” said she, “he wishes to murder me when I am asleep.”

“Sleep quietly, I neither wish to steal nor to murder.  I only wish to—­”

The unfortunate cramp, which at her first terror had attacked Mrs. Ulrica’s throat, now suddenly disappeared, and she emitted a long and loud scream; but no sooner had this been accomplished, than a large brawny hand was placed roughly over her mouth.

“Please do that no more,” said the voice, “or I shall be forced to be troublesome, and do not look for the bell-rope, it would only be disagreeable for you if the servants should enter the room now.”

“What do you want then, fearful man?”

“To remain where I am.  At present I want nothing further.”

Suddenly a new light dawned in Mrs. Ulrica’s brain.  What if he should be an unfortunate suitor for her love.

“How?” said she, forcing all her pride and dignity into her words, “how? remain here?  Sir, this is my bed-room.”

“I am aware of the fact.”

“And here no man has a right to enter except my husband.”

“And myself,” added the voice.

At this unexpected reply, the lady summoned courage to examine the unabashed visitor more closely.  He was an elegantly formed man, and as he gazed at her with his expressive eyes, interest and repugnance were both created within her heart.  The repugnance was caused by the fact that the man wore a blue frieze coat, which unfortunate garment at once dispelled her romantic dreams.

“Will you explain the cause of this unheard of impertinence?”

“That cause will very soon arrive.”

“Very soon?  You did not seek me then?”

“Not precisely.”

“Then probably you wish to see my husband?”

“Yes.”

“Am I at all concerned, then?”

“Slightly.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Mrs. Ulrica, who now remembered her strange visitor’s first observation, “there must be a mystery about this which I do not understand.  You remarked that you were the husband of another.”

“True.”

“And furthermore you said you had a right to seek my husband in this room?”

“You certainly know your alphabet.”

“Then you have—­O, what will become of us!—­you have—­a demand to make of my husband.”

“No, he has a claim on me, and this I will pay back, principal and interest.”

“O, the monster!  The crocodile!  He has been untrue to me.”

“Yes, both in heart and desire; but my wife is not one who cries out, or attempts to pull the bell-rope.  She commands respect without so much trouble.”

“And do I not, also?”

“I do not know what you would do, if you should see a man, at this time of night, crawl through your window, and attempt to bring you to disgrace by the promise that he would release an old father from prison; but I do know you have nothing to fear at present.”