"The cats are her only companions—that much we know from the servants," affirmed the justice.
The laurels which his clerk had won made the vice-palatine jealous.
"Audiat," he said, in a reproving tone, "you ought to learn that a young person should speak only when spoken to; indeed,—as the learned Professor Hatvani says,—even then it is not necessary to answer all questions."
But the company around the dinner-table did not share these views. The clerk was assailed on all sides—very much as would have been an aëronaut who had just alighted from a montgolfier—to relate all that he had seen in those regions not yet penetrated by man. What sort of gown did the mysterious lady wear? Was he certain that she had no cap on? Was she really no older than fifteen years?
The vice-palatine at last put an end to his clerk's triumph.
"Tut, tut! what can you expect to learn from a mere lad like him?—when he saw her only for an instant! Just wait; I will find out all about this nameless gentleman and lady."
"Pray how do you propose to accomplish that?" queried the baroness, who had returned to her former seat.
"I shall go to the Nameless Castle."
"Suppose you are not permitted to enter?"
"What? I, the vice-palatine, not permitted to enter? Wait; I will explain my plan to you over the coffee."