'Give it, I tell thee!' and Aunt Lisbeth eagerly seized the missive, and
subjected it to the ordeal of touch. It was heavy, and contained
something hard. Long pensive pressures revealed its shape on the paper.
It was an arrow. 'Go!' said she to the woman, and, once alone, began,
bee-like, to buzz all over it, and finally entered. It contained
Margarita's Silver Arrow. 'The art of that girl!' And the writing said:
'SWEETEST MAIDEN!
'By this arrow of our betrothal, I conjure thee to meet me in all
haste without the western gate, where, burning to reveal to thee
most urgent tidings that may not be confided to paper, now waits,
petitioning the saints, thy
'FARINA.'
Aunt Lisbeth placed letter and arrow in a drawer; locked it; and 'always
thought so.' She ascended the stairs to consult with Gottlieb. Roars of
laughter greeted her just as she lifted the latch, and she retreated
abashed.
There was no time to lose. Farina must be caught in the act of waiting
for Margarita, and by Gottlieb, or herself. Gottlieb was revelling.
'May this be a warning to thee, Gottlieb,' murmured Lisbeth, as she
hooded her little body in Margarita's fur-cloak, and determined that
she would be the one to confound Farina.
Five minutes later Margarita returned. Aunt Lisbeth was gone. The
dragon still lacked a tip to his forked tongue, and a stream of fiery
threads dangled from the jaws of the monster. Another letter was brought
into the room by Lieschen.
'For Aunt Lisbeth,' said Margarita, reading the address. 'Who can it be
from?'
'She does not stand pressing about your letters,' said the woman; and
informed Margarita of the foregoing missive.
'You say she drew an arrow from it?' said Margarita, with burning face.
'Who brought this? tell me!' and just waiting to hear it was Farina's
mother, she tore the letter open, and read:
'DEAREST LISBETH!
'Thy old friend writes to thee; she that has scarce left eyes to see
the words she writes. Thou knowest we are a fallen house, through
the displeasure of the Emperor on my dead husband. My son, Farina,
is my only stay, and well returns to me the blessings I bestow upon
him. Some call him idle: some think him too wise. I swear to thee,
Lisbeth, he is only good. His hours are devoted to the extraction
of essences--to no black magic. Now he is in trouble-in prison.
The shadow that destroyed his dead father threatens him. Now, by
our old friendship, beloved Lisbeth! intercede with Gottlieb, that
he may plead for my son before the Emperor when he comes--'
Margarita read no more. She went to the window, and saw her guard
marshalled outside. She threw a kerchief over her head, and left the
house by the garden gate.