’The amiable and wealthy Lord offers a third loan; but the scrupulous Countess positively refuses to take it.  On leaving the table, she presents her brother to my Lord.  The gentlemen fall into pleasant talk.  My Lord asks leave to pay his respects to the Countess, the next morning, at her hotel.  The Baron hospitably invites him to breakfast.  My Lord accepts, with a last admiring glance at the Countess which does not escape her brother’s observation, and takes his leave for the night.

’Alone with his sister, the Baron speaks out plainly.  “Our affairs,” he says, “are in a desperate condition, and must find a desperate remedy.  Wait for me here, while I make inquiries about my Lord.  You have evidently produced a strong impression on him.  If we can turn that impression into money, no matter at what sacrifice, the thing must be done.”

’The Countess now occupies the stage alone, and indulges in a soliloquy which develops her character.

’It is at once a dangerous and attractive character.  Immense capacities for good are implanted in her nature, side by side with equally remarkable capacities for evil.  It rests with circumstances to develop either the one or the other.  Being a person who produces a sensation wherever she goes, this noble lady is naturally made the subject of all sorts of scandalous reports.  To one of these reports (which falsely and abominably points to the Baron as her lover instead of her brother) she now refers with just indignation.  She has just expressed her desire to leave Homburg, as the place in which the vile calumny first took its rise, when the Baron returns, overhears her last words, and says to her, “Yes, leave Homburg by all means; provided you leave it in the character of my Lord’s betrothed wife!”

’The Countess is startled and shocked.  She protests that she does not reciprocate my Lord’s admiration for her.  She even goes the length of refusing to see him again.  The Baron answers, “I must positively have command of money.  Take your choice, between marrying my Lord’s income, in the interest of my grand discovery—­ or leave me to sell myself and my title to the first rich woman of low degree who is ready to buy me.”

’The Countess listens in surprise and dismay.  Is it possible that the Baron is in earnest?  He is horribly in earnest.  “The woman who will buy me,” he says, “is in the next room to us at this moment.  She is the wealthy widow of a Jewish usurer.  She has the money I want to reach the solution of the great problem.  I have only to be that woman’s husband, and to make myself master of untold millions of gold.  Take five minutes to consider what I have said to you, and tell me on my return which of us is to marry for the money I want, you or I.”

’As he turns away, the Countess stops him.

’All the noblest sentiments in her nature are exalted to the highest pitch.  “Where is the true woman,” she exclaims, “who wants time to consummate the sacrifice of herself, when the man to whom she is devoted demands it?  She does not want five minutes—­ she does not want five seconds—­she holds out her hand to him, and she says, Sacrifice me on the altar of your glory!  Take as stepping-stones on the way to your triumph, my love, my liberty, and my life!”