of death reigned in the room.

Suddenly, music was heard in front of the house. They were playing the
melody of a national song and hundreds of voices called out: "Long live
our representative, noble Count Eberhard!" Irma, who was still lying on
the ground, moved at these sounds. Gunther strode past her and went out
into the courtyard. The playing ceased and the voices were silenced.

Horse's steps were heard approaching, and Bruno entered the courtyard.
He alighted. The sorrowful mien of Gunther and those about him, told
him what had happened. He covered his face and leaned on Gunther, who
led him into the house. When Gunther and Bruno entered the chamber of
death, Irma had disappeared. She had shut herself up in her room.

CHAPTER VII.

He who destroys his life, destroys more than his own life.

The child that has afflicted a father sees his upbraiding hand rise
from the grave.

My father has put the mark of Cain upon my brow; a mark that can never
be effaced.

Nevermore dare I look upon my face or permit the eyes of strangers to
behold it.

Can I escape from myself? My thoughts will follow me everywhere.

I am an outcast, forlorn, ruined.

Such was the dreary monotone that rang through Irma's soul, again and
again.

She lay in the darkened chamber from which every ray of light was
excluded. She was alone with herself and darkness. Her thoughts were
like strange voices, calling her now here, now there. And it often
seemed to her as if, with finger pointed at her, her father's fiery
hand shone through the darkness.

She could hear Bruno's voice and Gunther's. Bruno wanted to ask her
about many things, and Gunther wished to return to the city. Irma
answered that she could see no one, and charged Gunther with a thousand
greetings to all who loved her. Gunther cautioned the family doctor and
the maid to keep a careful watch on Irma, and also sent a messenger to
Emma at the convent.

Irma remained in darkness and solitude.

The tempter came to her, and said:

"Why grieve yourself to death? You are young, and the world, with all
its beauty and splendor, lies before you. There is not the faintest
trace of a mark upon your brow. The hand that left it is cold and stiff
in death. Rise up and be yourself again! The whole world is yours! Why
pine away? Why mortify yourself? Everything lives for itself;
everything lives out its allotted time. Your father completed his life;