Juanita had meanwhile added to the time-obliterated pencil-mark a new, heavier one, had wrapped up the paper with remarkable deftness, and addressed it.
"Will you put that in the post-box?" she asked.
"No, my dear madam," he replied, gravely, bowed and left. Behind him he heard the voice of the Spaniard: "Caro, Caro--to the post--but immediately!"
Through the damp evening shadows he trotted to Iwanow. He enjoyed the pleasant conviction of having behaved throughout as an eminently upright man, and also the pleasant conviction that he had attained his aim.
At a turn of the road, castle Traunberg shone gray and ghost-like between the dark old lindens. Eugene took off his hat, smiling ironically, and murmured, "Good evening, Linda!"
XXIII.
Linda knocked in vain at her husband's door. In spite of her coaxing requests she had not been admitted. More and more horrible thoughts occurred to her. In ever more interesting colors her imagination painted her husband's secret. She expected that he would appear at tea; he excused himself, and did not leave his room again that day. She grew more and more excited--she did not sleep that night, only towards morning did she close her eyes.
Felix was no longer in the house when she had risen; he had ordered a horse saddled at six o'clock that morning, and had ridden over to Lanzberg.
Linda grew impatient. "Can I find old letters anywhere?" thought she. "In any case I must look through the attic rooms some day." She ordered the keys of the upper story. Mrs. Stifler, the housekeeper, looked upon it as understood that the young wife would require a guide for her wanderings, and prepared to accompany her. But, pleasantly as she treated all the servants, and especially those who had been in the family from one generation to another, Linda declined the old woman's company.
At first she had difficulty in finding the right key for the different keyholes. As the rooms for the most part opened into each other, and only the doors into the corridor were locked, that was soon overcome.