Meanwhile above, in the Electoral Prince’s chamber, the White Lady had been expected with glowing impatience.  Dietrich had already stood for a quarter of an hour at the antechamber door, waiting with palpitating heart for her appearance.  The Electoral Prince had with difficulty raised himself up, and, supporting himself upon his elbows, had been listening with uplifted head in the direction of the door ever since the midnight hour had struck.  And now the door opened and the White Lady glided in.  With gentle, undulating gait and veil thrown back she went to the Prince’s bed, and when she saw him sitting up a smile lighted up her pale face.

“You see, Electoral Prince Frederick William, I have not deceived you,” she said; “you live, and you will now get perfectly well.”

“Yes, I believe that I will get well,” replied the Prince; “and I owe my life to you.”

“Never mind that,” said she, slowly shaking her head.  “I am not here for your sake, but for my poor Gabriel’s sake, to expiate his sin and to free his soul from guilt.  I dare not use many words.  The fame of the White Lady has spread through the whole city, and it may well be that they are on my track to-night—­that Count Schwarzenberg’s suspicions have been aroused.

“He is a bad man, and I am afraid of him.”

“And yet you have come here!  Have not shunned danger in order to save me!”

“I have not shunned danger in order to go to my beloved and be able to tell him—­’Lift up your head and rejoice in the Lord; crime is taken away from your head—­you are no murderer, for the Electoral Prince lives.’  One thing I would like to add, and I beseech you to grant it to me.  Say that you will pardon Gabriel Nietzel.”

“I pardon Gabriel Nietzel with my whole heart, and never shall he be punished for what he has done to me!  You have atoned for his crime, and may God forgive him, as I do.”

“I thank you, sir.  And now take your second draught.”

She took the little flask, poured the rest of its contents into a glass, and handed it to the Prince.

“Drink and be glad of heart,” she said, “for to-morrow, early in the morning, you will awake a sound man.  The angel of death has swept past you; take good heed lest you fall a second time into his clutches.  Flee before him to the greatest possible distance.  There, take, drink life and health from this glass, and the Lord our God be with you in all your ways!”

“I thank you, and blessed be you too!” And the Electoral Prince took the glass from her hand and drained it.

“It is finished,” said Rebecca, heaving a deep sigh.

“Now I can return to my beloved and my child.  Farewell!”

“Give me your hand, and let our farewell be that of friends,” said Frederick William.

She reached forth her little white hand from beneath her veil, and he cordially pressed it within his own.  “You are a noble, high-minded woman, and I shall ever remember you with gratitude and friendship.  I owe you my life; it is truly a great debt, and you would be magnanimous if you could point out some way whereby the weight might be a little lessened.  I beseech you tell me some way in which I may prove my gratitude.”