"I undertake the responsibility," he said proudly; "the forms can be complied with hereafter," and he handed the crucifix to the father, who kissed it with veneration.

"Lay your hand upon the image of the Redeemer, and repeat what the priest of G.o.d tells you to say," said the count.

Stielow turned to the father, who approached him, and did as the count had commanded.

Steadily and solemnly the priest repeated the words of the Catholic confession of faith; the young officer repeated them after him with the greatest devotion, and Clara whispered them in a low voice; the count stood upright, his brilliant eyes raised to heaven, a smile of inspired triumph on his lips.

Countess Frankenstein had sunk upon her knees, and laid her head upon her folded hands.

The confession of faith was ended; with a humble gesture the father returned the count the crucifix, he kissed it, and again attaching it to his chain, he concealed it in his breast.

"Now unite in prayer," he said with unspeakable sympathy; "no dissonance will part you, in pure harmony your pet.i.tions will rise to the throne of eternal love and compa.s.sion."

Stielow placed his folded hands upon the bed; Clara pressed her left hand upon them, and the lips of both these young and loving creatures moved in earnest prayer to G.o.d, imploring Him to permit them to walk along the path of life together.

Thus they prayed for a long time earnestly and unitedly; their friends looked at this affecting picture without speaking. Deep silence prevailed in the room.

At last Stielow rose from his knees after lightly touching the hand of the young countess with his lips. Countess Frankenstein approached him and kissed him upon the brow. "G.o.d's blessing be upon you, my son," she said affectionately. The young man looked around him with dreamy, glistening eyes; he felt as if descending from a strange world which was suddenly closed upon him when he looked at the objects around him, and as if he needed to recover his composure after the excitement which had shaken his inmost soul.

The count approached the bed, and examined the injured arm.

The wound was very red, and surrounded by a wreath of blisters.

Similar blisters appeared all up the arm.

"The remedy is taking effect," he said; "the poison is beginning to work out, I have a certain hope of recovery."

Herr von Stielow threw himself upon the count's breast.

"My friend for ever!" he cried, and tears flowed from his eyes.

"How shall I thank you, count?" cried Countess Frankenstein, with great emotion.

"Thank G.o.d, countess," he replied. "But," he added in the easy tone of general conversation, "I reckon upon your discretion, you must not betray me to the doctors."

He gave instructions about the further treatment of the wound, and a remedy to be used in his absence, he again administered a medicine, and left the house promising to return in a few hours.

With rapid footsteps he hastened to Madame Balzer's house; his face a.s.sumed a grave and severe expression as he ascended the steps leading to the young lady's apartments.

In the salon he found the Abbe Rosti awaiting him. The young priest sat opposite the _chaise-longue_ of the mistress of the house, who was conversing gaily with him, dressed in a charming pale blue morning toilette.

The abbe rose as the count entered, and the young lady welcomed him with a graceful smile as she offered him her hand.

"We have expected you for some time," she said. "The poor abbe has been wearied with his efforts to continue a conversation with me," she added in a roguish tone. "Where were you?"

"I have been preventing the completion of a great crime," replied the count gloomily, fixing his eyes firmly upon the lady's face.

She trembled involuntarily beneath his gaze.

"A crime?" she asked, "and where was it committed?"

"It was committed," said the count quietly, without removing his eyes, "it was committed upon a pure and n.o.ble creature whom a ruthless hand had destined to a horrible death, upon the Countess Clara Frankenstein."

Madame Balzer stood stiff and motionless. A deep pallor spread over her face, her lips trembled, her eyes sank before the firm and immovable gaze of the count. Her breast heaved, she tried to speak; but only a broken hissing breath came from her lips. "Abbe", said the count raising his hand and pointing to her, "you see this woman now standing before you, who was talking to you with smiling lips, whose eyes seemed to reflect the feelings of a good and n.o.ble heart--this woman is a murderess, who with cold cruelty has poisoned the warm pure blood of an innocent human being, a being who never harmed her except that she possessed the love of a young man, for whom this woman felt a wicked pa.s.sion. G.o.d willed it otherwise," he added, "and gave me the power of saving this victim of her wickedness!"

Amazed, horrified, the abbe listened to the count's words; he looked enquiringly at the beautiful and elegant woman against whom such a frightful accusation was brought.

She had pressed her hand upon her breast, as if to calm its powerful emotion. Her eyes were raised at the count's last word with an expression of fear, and raging hatred; but she could not bear his gaze, and her eyes fell again to the ground.

"Count," she said with a great effort, but in a calm and sharp voice, "you bring strange accusations against me, you speak in the voice of a judge. I do not understand you, nor do I recognize your right."

And exerting all her powers of will, she raised her eyes and gazed firmly into the count's face.

He drew himself to his full height, and stepping close up to her, and raising his hand, he said in a low voice which vibrated through the room:

"I do not speak from suspicion, I bring an accusation against you which it would be easy for me to prove; I speak as a judge, because if I would, I might be your judge, Antonia von Steinfeld."

She gazed at him with horror, all her composure left her; and broken down she sank into a chair.

"I might," proceeded the count, "be the judge of that unnatural daughter who forsook her old sick mother, a worthy lady who had educated her, by making great sacrifices, to follow the adventurous life of an actress, who stole her mother's last treasure, the t.i.tle-deeds of her small estate, and whilst she lived in wild dissipation left that unhappy mother, who would not face the shame and publicity of bringing her to justice, to suffer from want, until sorrow broke her heart. I might be the judge of the worthless creature who sank deeper and deeper, until she was punished for a fresh robbery, upon a young man whom she had ensnared, by two years' imprisonment; who then as an actress travelled through most of the little towns of Bohemia and Galicia, until she succeeded in finding a man but little better than herself, who gave her his name, and placed her in a position that enabled her to continue on a large scale the course she had before commenced. I might be the judge of the murderess who planned in cold blood a horrible death for a pure and innocent girl. Do you think, wretch!" he added--and his voice sounded like distant thunder--"do you think it would cost me more than a word to strip the false spangled veil from the hideousness of your past life and give you up to the abhorrence and scorn of the world? Do you think," he cried, standing close before her, with flashing eyes, "that it would burden my conscience, by a drop of surer poison than that you placed in the veins of an innocent creature, to free the world from your sin-laden existence?"

As the count spoke, the young woman had sunk down lower and lower; as he ended she lay at his feet, her eyes stared at him as at some supernatural appearance, horror and hopeless anguish were depicted in her face.

The abbe looked with a mixture of pity and abhorrence at the broken-down creature.

The count gazed at her in silence.

"Thank G.o.d," he then said, "that the object of your murderous hate was saved by my hand, or my hand would have slain you without mercy. Try,"

he said after a short silence, during which, panting, and with anguish in her eyes, she had hung on his lips, "try to gain heaven's forgiveness, use the gifts nature has given you, and which you have hitherto misused in sin, in the holy service of G.o.d and his Church. You shall serve me as a tool; and for the sake of the cause to which you shall be dedicated, perhaps it may be possible for you to gain forgiveness of the past."

She looked at him enquiringly; life and hope returned to her face.

"I demand no promises from you, I shall see what you do, and whether your obedience stands the test,--remember that even when I am far away, my eyes will be upon you, that my hand can always reach you, and that vengeance will fall upon your head if you deviate one hair's breadth from the path which I lay down for you. I shall free you from every chain that fetters you here, you shall be free in my service, to use your powers under my direction; but once more: Take heed not to follow your own way, it will lead you to hopeless destruction."

She rose slowly and stood before him, with downcast eyes, her hands crossed upon her breast; it was hard to say what was in her mind, but her features expressed only deep humility and submission.

The count looked at her for a moment in silence.

"I have spoken," he said; "I shall not warn, but punish, if my words are forgotten."

She bent her head in silence.

Then the solemn earnestness vanished from his face, and his features resumed their usual easy repose.

"Is Herr Balzer at home?" he asked.

"I think so," she replied in a low voice; "he asked to see me a short time ago."

"I wish to speak to him," said the count.