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 night, which she must attribute to a sudden fit of anger on Herr Casper’s part.  She was far too dear to all the members of the family for them to give her up so easily.  What had occurred—­she must admit that herself—­might have induced even her best friend to misunderstand it.  For one brief moment he, too, had been tempted to doubt her innocence.  If she knew old Eysvogel’s terrible situation she would certainly do everything in her power to persuade her father to receive him that morning, or—­which would be still better—­go to his office.  The weal and woe of many persons were at stake, her own above all, since, as Wolff’s betrothed bride, she belonged to him inseparably.