little her answers became longer and more affectionate. At last
she threw out of the window to him the following letter:

"This evening there is going to be a ball at the Embassy. The
Countess will be there. We shall remain until two o'clock. You
have now an opportunity of seeing me alone. As soon as the
Countess is gone, the servants will very probably go out, and there
will be nobody left but the Swiss, but he usually goes to sleep in
his lodge. Come about half-past eleven. Walk straight upstairs.
If you meet anybody in the anteroom, ask if the Countess is at
home. You will be told 'No,' in which case there will be nothing
left for you to do but to go away again. But it is most probable
that you will meet nobody. The maidservants will all be together
in one room. On leaving the anteroom, turn to the left, and walk
straight on until you reach the Countess's bedroom. In the
bedroom, behind a screen, you will find two doors: the one on the
right leads to a cabinet, which the Countess never enters; the one
on the left leads to a corridor, at the end of which is a little
winding staircase; this leads to my room."

Hermann trembled like a tiger as he waited for the appointed time
to arrive. At ten o'clock in the evening he was already in front
of the Countess's house. The weather was terrible; the wind blew
with great violence, the sleety snow fell in large flakes, the
lamps emitted a feeble light, the streets were deserted; from time
to time a sledge drawn by a sorry-looking hack, passed by on the
lookout for a belated passenger. Hermann was enveloped in a thick
overcoat, and felt neither wind nor snow.

At last the Countess's carriage drew up. Hermann saw two footmen