She threw herself down on the sofa, regardless of proprieties, and burst into sobs.
“You will have the goodness in a minute or two to leave the room. Your punishment, which will be a severe one, will be meted out to you when I have considered all the circumstances. I now wish to ask you the name of the English girl who posted your letters.”
There was no answer from Riki; again she glanced at me. Again she lowered her eyes and twisted her hands in distress.
“A full confession, Comtesse; in no other way will you escape the just anger of your noble father.”
Before she could speak I sprang to my feet.
“You need not ask her,” I said. “I did very wrong. I posted the letters.”
“That will do,” said the Baroness. A relieved look passed over her features. “Riki, stop crying. Your conduct has been beyond words, but I will not say any more to blame you just now.—Fräulein Schumacher, conduct the Comtesse to her room, and see that she does not leave it; stay with her there, for I cannot trust her alone.”
The German governess immediately conveyed the weeping girl from the room, and I found myself the one culprit who was now to be dealt with.
“I must ask you,” said the Baroness in her very bitterest tone, “why you, an English girl, brought up without the terribly circumscribed pale of the German girl, dared to help her to convey letters from this house.”
“I did it without thinking,” I said.