Anne opened her eyes in astonishment, but her face did not betray any further emotion, and she answered calmly: 

“Very good, Madame la Comtesse.  Auguste is here with a cab.  Does madame desire to use it?”

“No, Auguste can get us another.  You take his.”

Auguste, the man-servant, had come up meanwhile and greeted his mistress.  He shot a quick glance at the strange gentleman on whose aim she leaned, but it was more expressive of curiosity than surprise; he then hurried away to carry out the remarkable orders Anne had dryly transmitted to him.  Soon after he reappeared, and announced that the other fiacre was there.  Fido, released from the captivity of the dog-box, sprang upon the countess with short-breathed barks that soon degenerated into a cough, and wagged his tail and frolicked madly about.  When Pilar and Wilhelm entered their cab, Anne and Auguste remaining outside, the dog seemed undecided as to which party he was to follow.  Chancing to catch Wilhelm’s eye, he made up his mind, jumped into the cab, regardless of Anne’s angry call, and licked Wilhelm’s hand delightedly, accepting his friendly pat as an invitation to stay.

By Pilar’s direction the cab took them to an hotel in the Rue de Rivoli.  As they drove along Pilar leaned silently in her corner, only heaving a deep sigh from time to time; and Wilhelm, too, found nothing to say, oppressed as he was by the consciousness of being in an untenable situation, the eventual end of which he could not foresee.  Arrived at the hotel, they retired at once to their rooms and to rest, scarcely touching the supper which Pilar had ordered rather for Wilhelm than herself.  She lay awake for hours, and it was daybreak before she got any sleep.

It was nearly midday when she opened her eyes.  Wilhelm was sitting fully dressed at the window that faced the Tuileries, gazing down upon the dreary autumnal park with its trees half-bare, the paths covered with dead leaves—­its marble statues and silent fountains.  She stretched out her arms to him, and he hastened over to kiss her fondly.  As her eye fell upon her tiny jeweled watch, she gave a cry of dismay.

“Twelve o’clock!  Oh, go away—­quick—­and send the chambermaid to me.  I will do my best to be ready soon.  Wait for me in the salon.  You can read the papers or write letters.  But whatever you do, you must not leave the hotel—­do you hear?”

An hour later she appeared in the salon to fetch him to lunch, which was served in their room.  Pilar was nervous and put out.  The chambermaid’s assistance had not been all that she could have wished.  The slow waiting at lunch vexed her.  Whatever trifle she might require she was obliged to go into the untidy bedroom herself and search in her boxes.  Her head was full of schemes and plans, to none of which, however, she gave expression.  Never had she had such an uncomfortable meal with Wilhelm.

“What are you going to do now?” asked Wilhelm, when the waiter had cleared the table.