Then Eva reproached herself for depriving her dead mother, to the repose of whose soul this hour was dedicated, of her just due, and she strove with all her power to regain the spirit of devotion which she had lost.  But her lover sat opposite and, though she lowered her eyes, her earnest endeavour to concentrate her thoughts was futile.

Her struggle was interrupted by the commencement of the Credo, and during this confession, which brings before the Christian in a fixed form what it is incumbent upon him to believe, the thought entered her mind of beseeching her whose faithful love had always guided her safely and for her good—­the Queen of Heaven, to whom Heinz was as loyally devoted as she herself—­that she might give her a sign whether she might continue to believe in his love and keep faith with him, or whether she should return to the path which led to a different form of happiness.

During the singing of the Credo the heavenly Helper, for whose aid she hoped, made known to her that if, before the end of the Sanctus, which immediately followed the Credo, Heinz looked over at her and returned her glance, she might deem it certain that the Holy Virgin would permit her to hope for his love.  If he omitted to do so, then she would consider it decided that he renounced his earthly for his heavenly love, and try herself to give up the earthly one, in which, however, she believed she had recognised something divine.  The Credo closed and died away, the resonant harmonies of the Sanctus filled the wide space, and the knight, with the same devout attention, followed the sacred service in which, in the imagination of believers, the bread and wine is transformed into the body and blood of Christ, and a significant, painless ceremony represents the Saviour’s bloody death upon the cross.

Eva told herself that she ought to have followed with the same intentness as Heinz the mass celebrated for the soul of her own mother, but she could no longer succeed in doing so.  Besides, she was denied the privilege of looking freely and often at him upon whose movements depended the fate of her life.  Many glances were undoubtedly directed at her, the daughter of the dead woman in whose memory so many citizens had gathered; many, perhaps, had come solely to see the beautiful Es.  Therefore propriety and modesty forbade her to watch Heinz.  She only ventured to cast a stolen glance at him.

Every note of the Sanctus was familiar to her, and when it drew near the end Heinz retained the same position.  The fairest hope of her life must be laid with the flowers in her mother’s coffin.

Now the last bars of the Sanctus were commencing.  He had scarcely had time to change his attitude since her last secret glance at him, yet she could not resist the temptation, though it was useless, of looking at him once more.  She felt like the prisoner who sees the judge rise and does not know whether he intends to acquit or condemn him.  The city lute-player who led the choir was just raising his hands again to let them fall finally at the close of the Sanctus, and as she turned her eyes from him in the direction whence only too soon she was to be deprived of the fairest of rights, a burning blush suddenly crimsoned her cheeks.  Heinz Schorlin’s eyes had met hers with a full, clear gaze.