"Ah, me," she said; "had ever liege lady so true a knight? Basil, how shall I thank you?"
"The pleasure of serving you will be thanks enough," he replied.
"Ah, generous knight, noble knight, who shall say true chivalry is dead?" And she praised him, she flattered him, she thanked him until the slight doubt that had occurred to him died away and he was ashamed of it.
He thought of nothing but obeying her. It was sadly against his high English spirit to steal into a man's room and take from it; he would have preferred fighting until one or the other lay dead. But she had said nay, and it could not be. That very evening he called and was told the count was not in; the day following he repeated the call, and the servant, as he had said at the trial, was suspicious, not recognizing him as one of his master's friends.
He called another evening, and, owing to the fact of there being a new servant, he was admitted into the count's room. It was empty, although the gas was burning. He saw the little ivory casket, and with one stroke of his strong, young hand, opened it.
There lay the letters, underneath a watch and ring. He obeyed her; he did not lose one instant. He emptied the casket, carried the letters to the lighted gas, and burned them! Just as he had raised the watch and ring in his hand to replace them, the door opened and the count, with his servant, entered the room.