"I waited an hour, I waited two hours, and no Giulay came. So I went to my friends, where I passed the night, and the next day I returned home half angry and puzzled, and half amused at my childish eagerness. Surely Giulay would give me an explanation. Yet this explanation I never received for the same reason that prevented me from seeing you: I am locked up."
"But why?" I asked.
"That, my friend," (how sweet of her to call me friend!) "I don't know, and I want you to find out."
"But your father must have given you a reason."
"He has not."
"He is probably angry for your having gone to Salzburg."
"He does not know it."
"How is that?"
"When I came home, just in time, Fanny had arrived and was, of course, in great anxiety about me. I told her all, and I am sure that she has not betrayed me. A quarter of an hour later my father arrived. He had had a splendid success and seemed very happy. He kissed me and was absolutely as usual. We had some supper and I went to bed. Tired as I was I fell asleep at once. But after an hour or so father came into my room, pale and with distorted features.
"Mitzi," he called with a voice which I scarcely recognized. "Who called upon you during my absence?"