It appeared to him as if his unholy foot was not worthy to tread this ground, nor to approach the bed which, with its white curtains, seemed to wave before his dazzled eyes like a white swan.

In soft and gentle words he brought to Elise greeting from her father.  He related to her how Gotzkowsky had visited his house, not to take rest, but to see Elise; how, scarcely arrived there, a messenger from the Council had called him back to the town-hall.  There he had commissioned Bertram to request his daughter to withdraw from the front rooms of the house, and to retire into those next to the garden, where she would be safer and have less to fear from the enemy as he marched in.

“At last, then, my father has consented to think of me,” said Elise, with a bitter smile.  “His patriotism has allowed him leisure to remember his only daughter, who would have remained solitary and forsaken in the midst of servants and hirelings if my noble and faithful brother had not assumed the duties of my father, and watched over and protected me.”  She reached out both her hands to Bertram with a look full of gratitude, but he scarcely touched them; he held them for a moment lightly and coldly in his, and then let them go.  This slight and transient touch had shot through him like an electric shot, and reawakened all the sorrows of his soul.

“You will then leave this room?” asked Bertram, approaching the door.

“I will go into the hall immediately next to it.”

“All alone?” asked Bertram; and then fearing that she might suspect him of wishing to force his company upon her, he added, quickly, “You ought to keep one of your maids near you, Elise.”

Smilingly she shook her head.  “For what purpose?” asked she.  “Bertram is my protector, and I am quite safe.  I have sent my maids to their rooms.  They were tired from long watching and weeping; let them sleep.  Bertram will watch for all of us.  I have no fear, and I would not even leave this room, if it were not that I wished to comply with the rarely expressed and somewhat tardy desire of my father.”

Saying which, she took the silver candelabras from the table and quietly traversed the room in order to proceed to the adjoining hall.  At the door she stopped and turned round.  The full light of the candles shone on her handsome, expressive face, and Bertram gazed on her with a mixture of delight and anguish.

“Bertram,” said she gently and timidly, “Bertram, my brother, let me thank you for all your love and constancy.  Would that I could reward you more worthily!  In that case all would be different, and we would not all be so sad and despondent as we now are.  But always remember, my brother, that I will never cease to love you as a sister, and that if I cannot compel my heart to love you otherwise, yet no other power, no other feeling can ever lessen or destroy my sisterly affection.  Remember this, Bertram, and be not angry with me.”  She nodded to him with a sweet smile, and retreated through the door.