She shuddered, and turned pale.  “O Heaven!” she murmured low, “I have betrayed myself!”

Bertram seized her hand, his features evincing deep emotion.  “Will you answer me one question?” he asked, and as she bowed her head in silence, he proceeded—­“is the Count von Brenda your brother?”

“Oh, sir,” she said, with a faint smile, “one does not suffer for a brother as I have suffered for Feodor.  I am the Countess Sandomir, and Count Feodor is my betrothed.  The good empress herself joined our hands, and blessed our union.  A short time after our marriage the war broke out, and deprived me of my lover and husband.  For six months I have had no tidings of him, and, tortured by anxiety and apprehension, I resolved to come myself to Germany to seek my betrothed, either to bury or nurse him, for I believed he must be sick or dead, as he did not return to me.”

Bertram offered in his heart a prayer of gratitude to God.  With feelings of sympathy, he then turned his eyes on the quivering features of the stranger.  “Listen to me,” said he, gently.  “As you entered, I had just prayed to God, in the suffering and sadness of my heart, to show me some way and means of escape from the labyrinth in which Count Brenda has placed us.  It would seem as if He has had compassion on us all, for at the very moment he sends you, the affianced bride of the count, and through you alone can we be saved.  We must be open and candid toward each other.  Therefore, listen to me.  I love Gotzkowsky’s daughter—­I love her without hope, for she loves another.”

“And this other?” asked she breathlessly.

“She loves Count Feodor von Brenda, and is about to escape with him.”

“Escape!” cried the lady, and her voice sounded threatening and angry, and her eyes flashed.  “Oh!” said she, gnashing her teeth, “I will prevent this, even if I kill this girl!”

Bertram shook his head sadly.  “Let us rather try to kill this love in her heart.  Let us contrive some means of bringing your lover back to you.”

“Are there any such means?” asked she, anxiously.

Bertram did not answer immediately.  His brow was clouded with deep thought, and a heavy sigh escaped him.  He then asked quickly, “Will you follow me and enter into my plot?”

“I will,” she said firmly.

“Above all things, then, let us be cautious.  Count Feodor must have no suspicion that you are here, for your presence would drive him to some desperate resolve, and I fear Elise loves him sufficiently not to draw back from any thing.”

“You are very cruel,” murmured the lady.  “You know not what torture you are preparing for me.”

“If I did not know it, I would not undertake the enterprise that is to serve us both.  I have told you that I love Elise, but I have not told you how deep and sacred this love is.  I would cheerfully venture my life for her, but now I dare to interfere with her love, and earn her hatred.”