"Princess Marie?" echoed Vavel.
"As I tell you; and that is how I come to know she is a princess."
Vavel's brain seemed paralyzed. He could not even think.
"The vice-palatine," nonchalantly continued Matyas, "protested that a mistake had been made; but the French general replied that he knew very well who the ladies were, and that he had received instructions how to treat them. From that day, two French grenadiers began to guard the baroness's door, day and night, just exactly as if they were standing guard over a potentate."
Vavel paced the floor, mute with rage and fear.
"Why did I desert them!" he exclaimed at last, in desperation. "Why did I not do as Marie wished—flee with her and Katharina into the wide world—we three alone!"
"Well, you see you did n't, and this is the way matters stand now," responded Master Matyas. "The general's adjutant visits the house twice every day to inquire after the ladies; then he reports to his superior."
"If only Cambray had not died!" ejaculated the count.
"Yes, but I helped to bury him, too," added Matyas, shaking his head.
"Yes, so I was told. How did you manage to get the body from behind the metal screen?"