Marie was filled with delight and astonishment.
"There is another work of art connected with this wonderful mechanism,"
said the count, after Marie had rolled and unrolled the screen several
times. "The cord which releases the screen rings a bell in my room. When
I hear the bell I shall know that you have retired; then I shall bring
my books and papers into your room out yonder, and continue my work
there. Only enough light will penetrate the screen to the alcove to
prevent utter darkness. You will not need to be afraid hereafter, and
perhaps the sweet, sound sleep will return to you."
Marie did not offer to kiss her guardian for this birthday gift. She
merely held out both hands, and gave his a clasp that was so close and
warm that it said more than words or kisses. She waited impatiently for
evening to test the working of her wonderful screen. She did not amuse
herself with her cards, as usual, but went to bed at ten o'clock. At the
same moment that the screen unrolled and was caught by the springs in
the floor, Count Ludwig's footsteps were heard in the corridor. In one
hand he carried a two-branched candlestick, in the other his pistol-case
and ink-horn.
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