But the guerrilla’s wife was nowhere to be found.
“It cannot be that she is in any of the rooms below. Some of us must have seen her,” reflected Erminie, as she ran down the three flights of stairs to the first floor.
“Well, has Alberta finished her Rip Van Winkle sleep yet?” inquired Elfie.
“Yes; but I cannot find her. I have looked in her room and in all the other rooms above and she is nowhere to be seen in any of them. I think she must have come down here.”
“Of course she must if she isn’t up stairs; but I haven’t seen or heard anything of her. I will go and hunt her up, while you order the dinner put on the table. I am as hungry as an unhurt hero after a fight,” said Elfie, dancing out of the room in search of the guest.
Dinner was served and only waited the reappearance of Elfie. But fifteen minutes passed, when she came into the dining-room, flushed, excited and almost indignant.
“I can’t find her. She is neither in the house nor the garden, that is certain. And it is my opinion she has taken French leave!”
“Taken French leave!” echoed Erminie, in surprise.
“Yes, it would be just like her,” said Elfie, who, since the escape of Vittorio, had lost much of her pity for Alberta.
“I can easily ascertain. I will go and see if her bonnet and mantle are in their places,” said Erminie.