But this active confidante had stayed long enough to divest herself of an additional dress with which she was provided.
This dress was meant as a disguise for the earl, while it was intended that her fellow-servant should personate the afflicted countess.
The exchanges of attire were quickly made.
The earl, whose slight figure and small stature suited the part he had to play, was transformed into a lady's maid; and the representative of the countess was duly prepared for the part she had to enact.
All was now ready, but it was deemed prudent to wait nearly an hour, and it will be guessed what anxiety was felt in the interval.
At length, the jailer was called.
On unlocking the door, he beheld the earl as he thought, in an attitude of despair, leaning on the table, with his face covered by his hands.
The unhappy countess was overwhelmed by grief, and had to be led forth by her attendant, who was muffled up in her hood to hide her own tears.
The jailer's stony heart was touched by so much grief. He let them out without a word, fastened the door, and following them down the circular stone steps, offered in a kindly tone to conduct them to the gate.
The countess murmured her thanks, and the man marched on before them, and saved them from any interference, receiving a piece of gold for his pains, when he left them at the Bulwark Gate.