looks contradicted, he rose hastily, wrapped himself in a
dressing-gown which lay on a chair, and began by locking a door near
the chimney through which the state bedroom was entered from the
reception rooms which communicated with the great staircase.

Seeing her husband pocket that key, the countess had a presentiment of
danger. She next heard him open the door opposite to that which he had
just locked and enter a room where the counts of Herouville slept when
they did not honor their wives with their noble company. The countess
knew of that room only by hearsay. Jealousy kept her husband always
with her. If occasionally some military expedition forced him to leave
her, the count left more than one Argus, whose incessant spying proved
his shameful distrust.

In spite of the attention the countess now gave to the slightest
noise, she heard nothing more. The count had, in fact, entered a long
gallery leading from his room which continued down the western wing of
the castle. Cardinal d'Herouville, his great-uncle, a passionate lover
of the works of printing, had there collected a library as interesting
for the number as for the beauty of its volumes, and prudence had
caused him to build into the walls one of those curious inventions
suggested by solitude or by monastic fears. A silver chain set in
motion, by means of invisible wires, a bell placed at the bed's head
of a faithful servitor. The count now pulled the chain, and the boots
and spurs of the man on duty sounded on the stone steps of a spiral
staircase, placed in the tall tower which flanked the western corner
of the chateau on the ocean side.

When the count heard the steps of his retainer he pulled back the
rusty bolts which protected the door leading from the gallery to the