Cordula’s own maid hastened to obey the order.  Els helped the countess turn on her pillows, and as in doing so she touched her arm, the sufferer cried angrily:  “Who cares what hurts me?  Not even you!”

Here she paused.  The pleading glance which Els had cast at her must have pierced her soft heart, for her bosom suddenly heaved violently and, struggling to repress her sobs, she gasped, “I know you mean kindly, but I am not made of stone or iron either.  I want to be alone and go to sleep.”

She closed her eyes as she spoke and, when Els bent to kiss her, tears bedewed her cheeks.

Soon after Els went down into the entry to meet her lover’s brother-in-law.  He had refused to enter the empty sitting-room.  The Countess von Montfort’s unfriendly dismissal had vexed him sorely, yet it made no lasting impression.  Other events had forced into the background the bitter attack of Cordula, for whom he had never felt any genuine regard.

The experiences of the last few hours had converted the carefully bedizened gallant into a coarse fellow, whose outward appearance bore visible tokens of his mental depravity.  The faultlessly cut garment was pushed awry on his powerful limbs and soiled on the breast with wine stains.  The closely fitting steel chain armour, in which he had ridden out, now hung in large folds upon his powerful frame.  The long mustache, which usually curled so arrogantly upwards, now drooped damp and limp over his mouth and chin, and his long reddish hair fell in dishevelled locks around his bloated face.  His blue eyes, which usually sparkled so brightly, now looked dull and bleared, and there were white spots on his copper-coloured cheeks.

Since Countess Cordula gave him the insulting message to his wife he had undergone more than he usually experienced in the course of years.

“An accursed night!” he had exclaimed, in reply to the housekeeper’s question concerning the cause of his disordered appearance.

Els, too, was startled by his looks and the hoarse sound of his voice.  Nay, she even drew back from him, for his wandering glance made her fear that he was intoxicated.

Only a short time before, it is true, he had scarcely been able to stand erect, but the terrible news which had assailed him had quickly sobered him.

He had come at this unwontedly early hour to enquire whether the Ortliebs had heard anything of his brother-in-law Wolff.  There was not a word of allusion to the broken betrothal.

In return for the promise that she would let the Eysvogels know as soon as she received any tidings of her lover, which Els gave unasked, Siebenburg, who had always treated her repellently or indifferently, thanked her so humbly that she was surprised.  She did not know how to interpret it; nay, she anticipated nothing good when, with urgent cordiality, he entreated her to forget the unpleasant events of the preceding