In the name of all patience, I ask, who could endure this?  From the hour of my arrival I am haunted by this one image—­the Charge d’Affaires.  For him I have been almost condemned to go houseless, and naked; and now the very most sacred feelings of my heart are subject to his influence.  I walked up and down in an agony.  Another such disappointment, and my brain will turn, thought I, and they may write my epitaph—­“Died of love and a Charge d’Affaires.”

“It is time to dress,” said the waiter.

“I could strangle him with my own hands,” muttered I, worked up into a real heat by the excitement of my passion.

“The Charge—­”

“Say that name again, villain, and I’ll blow your brains out,” cried I, seizing Antoine by the throat, and pinning him against the wall; “only dare to mutter it, and you’ll ever breathe another syllable.”

The poor fellow grew green with terror, and fell upon his knees before me.

“Get my dressing things ready,” said I, in a more subdued tone.  “I did not mean to terrify you—­but beware of what I told you.”

While Antoine occupied himself with the preparations for my toilette, I sat broodingly over the wood embers, thinking of my fate.

A knock came to the door.  It was the tailor’s servant with my clothes.  He laid down the parcel and retired, while Antoine proceeded to open it, and exhibit before me a blue uniform with embroidered collar and cuffs —­the whole, without being gaudy, being sufficiently handsome, and quite as showy as I could wish.

The poor waiter expressed his unqualified approval of the costume, and talked away about the approaching ball as something pre-eminently magnificent.

“You had better look after the fiacre, Antoine,” said I; “it is past nine.”

He walked towards the door, opened it, and then, turning round, said, in a kind of low, confidential whisper, pointing, with the thumb of his left hand, towards the wall of the room as he spoke—­

“He won’t go—­very strange that.”

“Who do you mean?” said I, quite unconscious of the allusion.

“The Charge d’Aff—­”

I made one spring at him, but he slammed the door to, and before I could reach the lobby, I heard him rolling from top to bottom of the oak staircase, making noise enough in his fall to account for the fracture of every bone in his body.

CHAPTER LIII.

The ball.

As I was informed that the King would himself be present at the ball, I knew that German etiquette required that the company should arrive before his Majesty; and although now every minute I expected the arrival of the Callonbys, I dared not defer my departure any longer.

“They are certain to be at the ball,” said Waller, and that sentence never left my mind.