"We have got unexpected help," he said; "a neighbor of yours, Ivan Behrend."
"A doubtful person," returned Theudelinde, scornfully. "He is an atheist."
"It does not matter in the present crisis whether he be a Thug, a Mormon, or a Manichæan, we have great need of his help. Some one told him of the plight you are in, and he wishes to see you."
"I will not see him, or speak to him. I beg you will confer with him instead of me."
"Countess, if this man is what you say, a heretic, he may say that he will not confer with one of my cloth."
"Very well. I suppose I must see him, but you will be present?"
"If it should be necessary."
The countess rolled her shawl round her, and went into the reception-room, into which the morning light was breaking. Abbé Samuel thought it necessary, however, to light the candelabras on the chimney.
Theudelinde, with a freezing air, asked Ivan to take a chair, and placed herself at a considerable distance from her visitor. She signed to him to begin the conversation.
"Countess, this night while I was busy reading, some one tapped at my window, and when I opened it thrust this note into my hand. It is written by your steward."