to his own abode. It lay in a quiet, retired quarter of the
town, and, as he turned into the street and looked up to the house, he saw
leaning far out of one of the windows a woman, who, her face shaded by her
hand, was gazing down into the street. He recognized the form, although he
could not see her countenance, and uttered a loud cry of joy. This cry of
joy found an echo in the window above, and the form vanished. Gabriel
Nietzel rushed into the house and up the steps. On the top step stood a
woman with outstretched arms, and again Gabriel uttered a cry of joy and
pressed his wife firmly to his breast, as firmly as if he would never let
her leave the spot, as if his love would keep and hold her there forever.
He bore her through the open door into their chamber, bore her to the
cradle standing in the center of the room, and then sank with her on his
knees.

They looked at one another, and then at the child, which lay there quietly
with wide-open eyes, in sweet contentment.

"My child! my child!" cried Gabriel; and it was as if now for the first
time he saw his boy, as if he had but just been sent him by Heaven, and
for a moment, in the blissful consciousness of being a father, he forgot
all--yes, _all_. He snatched up the child and hugged and kissed it, lost
in rapture and delight. But all at once there came over him the memory of
those pale, quivering features, the dimmed eyes, and drooping form. A
shudder ran through his whole frame; with a shriek of horror he let the
child fall back in its cradle, and clasped both hands before his face.

Rebecca tore back his hands, and her large black eyes gazed searchingly
into his countenance. She now for the first time saw how pale he was, and
how disturbed his mien. She now for the first time saw that he avoided her
look, and that his breast heaved convulsively.

"Gabriel," she said, with firm, impressive voice--"Gabriel, something is
the matter with you! Something has happened to you--something shocking,
dreadful!"

"Nothing!" he cried, hastily leaping up--"nothing! But we must begone! We
are to stay here no longer. We must away immediately--this very hour!"

"I know it," replied Rebecca quietly, her eyes fixed immovably upon her
beloved--"I know it, Gabriel, and I have prepared everything, as Count
Schwarzenberg himself directed. I have been in Berlin ever since this
morning, but feared to come here until you had gone to the banquet. I
have made all needful arrangemen