After this edifying monologue, the countess exchanged her elegant costume for a simple travelling-dress, and as she completed her toilet the clock struck eight. Every thing being ready, she returned to her boudoir and rang once. This signified that her confidential valet was wanted. In a few moments the door opened, and an old man, whose dark hair and eyes marked his Italian birth, entered noiselessly. The countess bade him close the door and approach. He obeyed without the least manifestation of surprise, muttering as he went, "Walls have ears."
"Giuseppe," said his mistress, "are you still willing to follow me?"
"Did I not swear to your mother, my beloved benefactress, never to abandon you, signora?"
"Thanks, amico; then we leave Vienna to-night."
"I heard the order forbidding Count Podstadsky the house, signora, and I made ready to depart."
"Good and faithful Giuseppe! Since you are ready, nothing need detain us. Go at once and order post-horses, and come with the travelling carriage to the corner of the street above this."
"Si, signora; I shall leave the carriage there, and return for the two caskets; you will then go out by the postern, and having joined us, we are off. Is that your will?"
"Yes, Giuseppe, yes. Go for your life!"
"Be ready to leave the house in one hour, signora, for you know that I am a swift messenger."
The old man bowed and retreated as silently as he came. His mistress looked after him, saying, "There goes a jewel which I have neither borrowed nor stolen: it comes to me by the inalienable right of inheritance. Now I can rest until he returns."