Once I said to her—­“Mina, the last day in the next month may change my fate and decide it—­if not I must die, for I will not make thee unhappy.”  Weeping she hid her head in my bosom.  “If thy fortune changes, let me know that thou art happy.  I have no claim on thee.  Art thou wretched, bind me to thy wretchedness, that I may help thee to bear it.”

“Maiden! maiden! take it back, that quick word, that foolish word which escaped thy lips.  And knowest thou this wretchedness?  Knowest thou this curse?  Knowest who thy lover—­what he?  Seest thou not that I convulsively shrink together, and have a secret from thee?” She fell sobbing to my feet, and repeated with oaths her entreaty.

I announced to the Forest-master, who entered, that it was my intention on the first of the approaching month to solicit the hand of his daughter.  I fixed precisely this time, because in the interim many things might occur which might influence my fortunes; but I insisted that I was unchangeable in my love to his daughter.

The good man was quite startled as he heard such words out of the mouth of Count Peter.  He fell on my neck, and again became quite ashamed to have thus forgotten himself.  Then he began to doubt, to weigh, and to inquire.  He spoke of dowry, security, and the future of his beloved child.  I thanked him for reminding me of these things.  I told him that I desired to settle down in this neighborhood where I seemed to be beloved, and to lead a care-free life.  I begged him to purchase the finest estates that the country had to offer, in the name of his daughter, and to charge the cost to me.  A father could, in such matter, best serve a lover.  It gave him enough to do, for everywhere a stranger was before him, and he could only purchase for about a million.

My thus employing him was, at the bottom, an innocent scheme to remove him to a distance, and I had employed him similarly before; for I must confess that he was rather wearisome.  The good mother was, on the contrary, somewhat deaf, and not, like him, jealous of the honor of entertaining the Count.

The mother joined us.  The happy people pressed me to stay longer with them that evening—­I dared not remain another minute.  I saw already the rising moon glimmer on the horizon—­my time was up.

The next evening I went again to the Forester’s garden.  I had thrown my cloak over my shoulders and pulled my hat over my eyes.  I advanced to Mina.  As she looked up and beheld me, she gave an involuntary start, and there stood again clear before my soul the apparition of that terrible night when I showed myself in the moonlight without a shadow.  It was actually she!  But had she also recognized me again?  She was silent and thoughtful; on my bosom lay a hundred-weight pressure.  I arose from my seat.  She threw herself silently weeping on my bosom.  I went.

I now found her often in tears.  It grew darker and darker in my soul; the parents swam only in supreme felicity; the faith-day passed on sad and sullen as a thunder-cloud.  The eve of the day was come.  I could scarcely breathe.  I had in precaution filled several chests with gold.  I watched the midnight hour approach—­It struck.