Her companions were her father’s chaplain and the equerry who had grown grey in his service.  Both were trying to dissuade her.  The former pointed to a troop of women who were following the chief of police and some city constables, and said warningly:  “Those are all wanton queans, whom the law of this city compels to lend their aid in putting out fires.  How would it beseem your rank to join these who shame their sex——­No, no!  It would be said to-morrow that the ornament of the house of Montfort had——­”

“That Countess Cordula had used her hands in extinguishing the fire,” she interrupted with gay self-confidence.  “Is there any disgrace in that?  Must my noble birth debar me from being numbered among those who help their neighbours so far as lies in their power?  If any good is accomplished here, those poor women yonder will make it no worse by their aid.  If people here believe that they do, it will give me double pleasure to ennoble it by working with them.  Putting out the flames will not degrade me, and will make the women better.  So, forward!  See how the fire is blazing yonder!  Help is needed there and, thank Heaven, I am no weakling.  Besides, there are women who want assistance and, to women in peril, the most welcome aid is woman’s.”

The old equerry, his eyes glittering with tears, nodded assent, and led the way into the street; but the countess, instead of following instantly, glanced back for the page who was to carry the bandages which she had learned to use among her retainers at home.  The agile boy did not delay her long; but while his mistress was looking to see that he had forgotten nothing of importance, he perceived at the window Eva, whose beauty had long since fired his young heart, and cast a languishing glance at her.  Then Cordula also noticed her and called a pleasant greeting.  Eva was on the point of answering in the same tone, when she remembered that Cordula had spoken of Heinz Schorlin in the presence of others as if he were awaiting her in all submission.  Anger surged hotly in her breast, and she drew back into the room as if she had not heard the salutation.

The countess perceived it, and shrugged her shoulders pityingly.

Eva, dissatisfied with herself, continued to gaze down into the street long after the crowds of people flocking from the city had concealed Cordula from her eyes.  It seemed as though she would never again succeed in anything that would bring contentment.  Never had she felt so weak, so ill-tempered, so devoid of self-reliance.  Yet she could not, as usual, seek consolation with her saint.  There was so much here below to divert her attention.