At this rapid movement on the part of the Duke, a figure started up with a faint cry for mercy.  It was a woman.

She fled with inconceivable swiftness towards the house, but he caught her just as she had gained the steps.

“Have mercy on me!” cried she.  “Do not murder me!”

He dragged her back to where the lantern was hanging.  She was a girl of about eighteen years of age, ugly, badly clothed, and dirty looking.  Norbert looked earnestly at her, but could not say who she was, though he was certain that he had seen her face somewhere.

“Who are you?” asked he.

She burst into a flood of tears, but made no other reply.

“Come,” resumed he, in more soothing accents; “you shall not be hurt.  Tell me who you are.”

“Caroline Schimmel.”

“Caroline?” repeated he.

“Yes.  I have been in your service as scullery maid for the last three months.”

“How is it that you did not go to the wedding with the rest of them?”

“It was not my fault.  I was asked, and I did so long to go, but I was too shabby; I had no finery to put on.  I am very poor now, for I have only fifteen francs a month, and none of the other maids would lend me anything to wear.”

“How did you come into the garden?” asked Norbert.

“I was very miserable, and was sitting in the garden crying, when I suddenly saw a light down there.  I thought it was theirs, and crept down the back stairs.”

“And what did you see?”

“I saw it all.”

“All what?”

“When I got down here, you and the other were digging.  I thought you were looking for money! but ah, dear me!  I was wrong.  Then the other began to say something, but I couldn’t catch a word; then you fought.  Oh, it was awful!  I was so frightened, I could not take my eyes off you.  Then the other fell down on his back.”

“And then?”

“Then,” she faltered, “you buried him, and then——­”

“Could you recognize this—­this other?”

“Yes, my lord duke, I did.”

“Had you ever seen him before?  Do you know who he was?”

“No.”

“Listen to me, my girl.  If you know how to hold your tongue, if you can forget all you have seen to-night, it will be the greatest piece of luck for you in the world that you did not go to this wedding.”

“I won’t open my lips to a soul, my lord duke.  Hear me swear, I won’t.  Oh, do believe me!”

“Very well; keep your oath, and your fortune is made.  To-morrow I will give you a fine, large sum of money, and you can go back to your village and marry some honest fellow to whom you have taken a fancy.”

“Are you not making game of me?”

“No; go to your room and go to bed, as if nothing had happened.  Jean will tell you what to do to-morrow, and you must obey him as you would me.”

“Oh, my lord!  Oh, my lord duke!”