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room, but from the principal door, and look round her, astonished to find the scene so deserted. ‘What can be the meaning of this?’ said her mother; while the Count was so overcome with astonishment that he could not utter a word. ‘Where is Marino?’ said the bride. ‘This question to us, dear child?’ said the Countess; ‘Did we not see you retire with him nearly an hour ago?’—‘Impossible,’ cried she; ‘you are altogether mistaken.’—‘Nay—nay—dearest Libussa,’ answered her mother; ‘just after that waltz, when you danced with so much spirit, you certainly went with him to your own apartments.’—‘I have not danced this evening more than once,’ said Libussa. ‘Child—child,’—said her father sternly; ‘to what purpose is this pretended forgetfulness?’—‘I have not forgotten,’ said Libussa; ‘I can tell you all that has passed this night.’—‘Where, then, have you staid away for this last hour?’—‘In the rooms of my dear sister Hildegarde,’ answered she; and I observed that the Count became somewhat pale at these words, and he looked at me doubtfully. He was silent, however, and the Countess, fearful that her beloved daughter’s senses were wandering, said