The light was evidently that of an ordinary hand-lantern, and from the swinging motion it was easy to divine that it was being carried by some one who was walking quickly.
"Who is this ?" asked Steinmetz.
"It is likely to be the Countess Catrina, Excellency." Steinmetz glanced back into the cottage, which was dark save for the light of a single petroleum lamp.

Paul's huge form could be dimly distinguished bending over a heap of humanity and foul clothing in a corner.
"Does she visit the cottages ?" asked Steinmetz sharply.
"She does, God be with her! She has no fear.

She is an angel.

Without her we should all be dead." "She won't visit this, if I can help it," muttered Steinmetz.
The light flickered along the road toward them.

In the course of a few minutes it fell on the stricken cottage, on the starosta standing in the road, on Steinmetz in the door-way.
"Herr Steinmetz, is that you ?" asked a voice, deep and musical, in the darkness.
"Zum Befehl," answered Steinmetz, without moving.
Catrina came up to him.