us all good to bathe our feet;' whereupon Adelaide requested one
might be carried to her room, which was done by Karl. He was now
alone with her, and it was almost the first time he had been so,
except when they ran up the hill together, since the day they met.
When he had set down the pail by her bedside, he stood looking at her
with a strange expression of countenance. He knew that the water he
had fetched up was designed for the purpose of washing away the blood
that he was about to spill, and he longed to tell her so, and set her
on her guard; but he was afraid. He looked at her, looked at the
water, and looked at the bed.

'Well, Karl,' she said laughing, 'good-night. When we part the day
after to-morrow, I shan't forget your services, I assure you.' The
lad's eyes still wandered from her to the water and the bed, but he
said nothing, nor stirred, till she repeated her 'good-night,' and
then he quitted the room in silence.

'Poor stupid creature!' thought Adelaide; 'he has scarcely as much
intelligence as the horses that draw us.'

'Now we must have no bungling to-night, Karl,' said Mazzuolo; 'we
will keep quiet till two o'clock, and then when everybody is asleep,
we'll to business.'

'But what is it to be done with?' inquired Tina.

'There's something in the carriage under the seat; I brought it away
the night we slept at Baireuth,' replied Mazzuolo; 'I'll step and
fetch it;' and he left the room; but presently returned, saying that
there were people about the carriage, and he was afraid they might