beyond her expectations, but at the same time she felt saddled by an
immense responsibility. Through the opening in the wall she had seen
the Imperial eagle; and upon the flock bed, faintly lighted from
above, lay the form of an officer of the Guard. She guessed all.
Servin was hiding a proscribed man!

She now trembled lest any of her companions should come near here to
examine her picture, when the regular breathing or some deeper breath
might reveal to them, as it had to her, the presence of this political
victim. She resolved to keep her place beside that door, trusting to
her wits to baffle all dangerous chances that might arise.

"Better that I should be here," thought she, "to prevent some luckless
accident, than leave that poor man at the mercy of a heedless
betrayal."

This was the secret of the indifference which Ginevra had apparently
shown to the removal of her easel. She was inwardly enchanted, because
the change had enabled her to gratify her curiosity in a natural
manner; besides, at this moment, she was too keenly preoccupied to
perceive the reason of her removal.

Nothing is more mortifying to young girls, or, indeed, to all the
world, than to see a piece of mischief, an insult, or a biting speech,
miss its effect through the contempt or the indifference of the
intended victim. It seems as if hatred to an enemy grows in proportion
to the height that enemy is raised above us. Ginevra's behavior was an
enigma to all her companions; her friends and enemies were equally
surprised; for the former claimed for her all good qualities, except
that of forgiveness of injuries. Though, of course, the occasions for