he thoughts which, if they
cannot be told to the one person on earth, are never heard by any one
else. Suddenly Katharina, without word of warning, dropped on her knees
at her lover's feet, seized his hand, and laid her face against it.

"You are my guardian angel," she whispered (the invalid in the next room
must not be disturbed by the sound of voices); "you have rescued that
saint from her enemies and saved me from perdition. Oh, Ludwig, if only
you knew what I have suffered! Marie's every sigh, the feverish words
uttered in her delirium, have been so many accusations oppressing my
heart. These have been terrible days! To be compelled hourly to dread
either of two horrible blows, and to have to pray to God that, if both
could not be averted, to let the milder one fall! Death would have been
welcome, indeed, compared to the other one. To listen tremblingly, hour
after hour, for the knock at the door which would announce the messenger
sent to bear Marie to Paris, or death with his scythe to bear her to the
grave! And then to have to look on her sufferings, and hear her pray for
her betrayer! Oh, it was terrible, terrible! Ludwig, you are just--as
God is just. I have suffered as any woman in the Bible suffered. You
have taken my load of sorrow from me, have released my heart from the
tortures of perdition. All the evil I have done, you have made good.
Therefore, do you pronounce judgment on me. Condemn me or forgive me. I
deserve both; I will accept either at your hands."

Without a word Ludwig Vavel raised the woman to her feet, clasped her in
his arms, and pressed his lips to hers in a long, long kiss. In it were
forgiveness, love, union.

* * * * *

From the adjoining room came the sounds of a piano. Some one was playing
the hymn of the Hungarian militia.

Ludwig and Katharina hurried into the room. Marie was seated at the
piano, arrayed in her favorite blue gown. Her transparent hands hovered
over the ivory keys, and lured from them the melancholy air, to which
she sang, in a voice that seemed to come from the distant clouds:

"Was kleinliche Bosheit ausgedacht,
Hat unserer Liebe ein Ende gemacht."

At the last word her arms sank to her sides; the exertion had completely
exhausted her. But she struggled bravely to overcome her weakness. She
smiled brightly at Ludwig and Katharina, and said:

"This melancholy song was not intended for you two. It was only to show
Ludwig