ORLANDO
sembled, as Orlando had thought before, nothing so much as a monstrous hare. She had the staring eyes, the lank cheeks, the high headdress of that animal. She stopped now, much as a hare sits erect in the corn when thinking itself unobserved, and stared at Orlando, who stared back at her from the window. After they had stared like this for a certain time, there was nothing for it but to ask her in, and soon the two ladies were exchanging compliments while the Archduchess struck the snow from her mantle.
"A plague on women," said Orlando to herself, going to the cupboard to fetch a glass of wine, "they never leave one a moment's peace. A more ferreting, inquisiting, busybodying. set of people don't exist. It was to escape this Maypole that I left England, and now"—here she turned to present the Archduchess with the salver, and behold—in her place stood a tall gentleman in black. A heap of clothes lay in the fender. She was alone with a man.
Recalled thus suddenly to a consciousness of her sex, which she had completely forgotten, and of his, which was now remote enough to be equally upsetting, Orlando felt seized with faintness.
"La!" she cried, putting her hand to her side, "chow you frighten me!"
"Gentle creature," cried the Archduchess, falling on
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