going up to him, and I suppose something
in my eyes moved him, for he gave the child into my arms in silence.

The countess had stood looking at him. She strove for silence; sought
tremulously after coldness, but in vain.

"Eugen--" She came nearer, and looked more closely at him. "_Herrgott!_
how you are altered! What a meeting! I--can it be six years ago--and
now--oh!" Her voice broke into a very wail. "We loved you--why did you
deceive us?"

My heart stood still. Would he stand this test? It was the hardest he
had had. Graefin Hildegarde had been--was dear to him. That he was dear
to her, intensely dear, that love for him was intwined about her very
heart-strings, stood confessed now. "Why did you deceive us?" It sounded
more like, "Tell us we may trust you; make us happy again!" One word
from him, and the poor sad lady would have banished from her heart the
long-staying, unwelcome guest--belief in his falseness, and closed it
away from her forever.

He was spared the dreadful necessity of answering her. A timid summons
from her maid at the door told her the count wanted to speak to her, and
she left us quickly.

* * * * *

Sigmund did not die; he recovered, and lives now. But with that I am not
at present concerned.

It was the afternoon following that never-to-be-forgotten night. I had
left Eugen watching beside Sigmund, who was sleeping, his hand jealously
holding two of his father's fingers.

I intended to call at Frau Mittendorf's door to say that I could not yet
return there, and when I came back, said Eugen, he would have something
to tell me; he was going to speak with his brother--to tell him that we
should be married, "and to speak about Sigmund," he added, decisively.
"I will not risk such a thing as this again. If you had not been here he
might have died without my knowing it. I feel myself absolved from all
obligation to let him remain. My child's happiness shall not be further
sacrificed."

With this understanding I left him. I went toward the countess's room,
to speak to her, and tell her of Sigmund before I went out. I heard
voices ere I entered the room, and when I entered it I stood still, and
a sickly apprehension clutched my very heart. There stood my evil
genius--the _boeser Geist_ of my lover's fate--Anna Sartorius. And the
count and countess were present, apparently waiting for her to begin to
speak.

"You are here," said the Graefin to me. "I was jus