“It can, noble sir!  But it is not possible for me to speak about that now, for my thoughts are wandering and my heart beats as though ’twere like to burst.  If I am to become a reasonable man once more, let me—­first of all—­”

“See the picture which I promised to show you?” interposed the count.  “Well, then, you shall see it, Master Gabriel Nietzel.  Remember, though, that I only show it to you on condition that you examine it in silence.  So soon as you shall venture to speak to it, it vanishes, and you see it never more.  One has to prescribe strict regulations to you, for you are such an odd fellow, freely entertaining bad thoughts, but shrinking from bad deeds like an innocent child.  But you shall prove to me by deeds that you are in earnest about making amends for your crime against me, the world, the laws, and the Church.  Only when you have done the right thing shall you again obtain your beloved and your child, and may depart unhindered from this country.  Mark that, Master Nietzel; and now come.  Follow me to my picture gallery.”

He nodded smilingly to the painter, and led the way out of the cabinet and through a suite of magnificent apartments.  At the end of these they entered a spacious, lofty hall, whose walls were hung with great paintings.

“This is my picture gallery,” said the count on entering; “now look and be silent!”

Gabriel Nietzel remained standing near the door, and leaned against one of its pillars.  He could proceed no farther, his knees shook so, and all the blood in his body seemed to concentrate in head and heart.  He shut his eyes, for it seemed to him that he must expire that very moment.  But finally, by a mighty effort of will, he conquered this passionate emotion, slowly opened his eyes, and ventured to cast a weary, wandering glance through the hall.  How wonderfully solemn this broad, handsome room seemed to him, and how devout and prayerful was his mind!  A mild, clear light fell from the glass cupola above, which alone illuminated the hall, and displayed the pictures on the walls to the best advantage.  In the middle of the room, beside the splendid porphyry vase standing there upon its gilded pedestal, leaned the tall, athletic form of Count Schwarzenberg, casting a long, dark shadow upon the shining surface of the inlaid floor.  Gabriel Nietzel saw all this, and yet he felt as if he were dreaming, and that all would vanish so soon as he should venture to move or step forward.  The count’s voice aroused him from his stupefaction.

“Now, Master Nietzel, come here, for from this point you can best survey the pictures, and judge of their merits.”