out, saw a closed carriage, with four trunks and some smaller packages on the roof, standing at the door.
“Where are they going?” I asked, turning round.
The waiter was gone! A bell ringing violently from below explained his disappearance, but did not soothe my annoyance. I rang my bell very forcibly again: the action was a welcome vent for my temper. Turning back to the window, I found the carriage still there. A second or two later, Mme. Delhasse, attended by the waiter who ought to have been looking after me, came out of the hotel and got into the carriage. She spoke to the waiter, and appeared to give him money. He bowed and closed the door. The driver started his horses and made off at a rapid pace toward the carriage-road down the hill. I watched till the vehicle was out of sight and then drew my head in, giving a low puzzled whistle and forgetting the better part of my irritation in the interest of this new development. Where was the old witch going—and why was she going alone?
Again I rang my bell; but the waiter was at the door before it ceased tinkling.
“Where’s she going to?” I asked.
“To the house of the Duke of Saint-Maclou, sir,” he answered, wiping his brow and sighing for relief that he had got rid of her.
“And the young lady—where is she?”
“She has already gone, sir.”
“Already gone!” I cried. “Gone where? Gone when?”
