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After supper there had not been the amount of gayety that was wont to distinguish the President's balls. The young people had begun to dance, and the elderly folk to enjoy the delights of card-room and smoking-room, when there was whispered through the assemblage a rumour that interfered greatly with the merriment of the evening. It was first heard in the ball-room; whence it originated no one could exactly tell, but there it was, flying from lip to lip. The younger men were seen to crowd around Guntram and the officers from Heinrich's room, whom they plied with questions, and although it had been agreed that no mention was to be made of the disagreeable circumstance that had occurred there, the dark rumour was not long in taking shape.

How it came about that first the elder ladies and then the younger portion of the assemblage learned it no one could tell, but it circulated everywhere in the ball-room, and finally penetrated to the smoking-room, where the older men left their cigars and cards and returned to the ball-room to ascertain what had happened.

They found the greatest excitement prevailing there; the band was still playing, it is true, but there were only a few couples on the floor, and these danced without enthusiasm, and apparently merely for form's sake.

And what was it all about? No one could precisely say. Had Count Repuin actually boxed Herr von Sorr's ears in Heinrich's room and called him a cheat and thief? Oh, no! it was not Count Repuin. He had interfered when Count Styrum, who had been robbed by Sorr, would have chastised the thief, and high words had passed between the two Counts. It would certainly end in a duel. This was the tale told to Adèle by the wife of Major Gansauge; but Frau von Rose, who stood by, declared that she had it from the best authority--her informant had begged that his name might not be mentioned--that there was not a word of truth in the whole story. It all came from Herr von Arnim's recklessly accusing Herr von Sorr of playing unfairly. Poor Herr von Sorr was very likely not so much to blame; he played high, to be sure, but, good heavens! plenty of people did that nowadays, and Arnim was probably irritated because Sorr's luck was better than his own. He had lost his temper, accused Sorr of cheating; Sorr had naturally resented it; a duel was impending; Count Styrum was to be Arnim's second, while Count Repuin was to act as poor Herr von Sorr's friend. It was outrageous that such an affair should disturb the gayety of one of the dear President's charming balls. Poor dear Lucie von Sorr was most to be pitied, for every one knew that Arnim was the best shot in the world and always killed his man. But there was Count Styrum just come back to the ball-room; he could tell all about it, if he only would.

Adèle listened with impatience to the contradictory statements of the two ladies. They were both noted gossips, and equally untrustworthy, but there must be something wrong, else how could the report of some kind of scene in Heinrich's room have circulated everywhere, even reaching the ears of Frau von Sorr, who, in some agitation, had begged her friend to discover the truth of the matter for her?

Heinrich, to whom his sister had first turned for information, had refused, somewhat roughly, to give her any satisfaction. "Old women's gossip," was his only reply, as he turned his back upon her. His manner only served to convince Adèle that there was some truth in the rumours she had heard, and anxiety for her friend Lucie induced her to pay some heed to the talk of the two old ladies in hopes of learning some fact of consequence. Her only satisfaction had been in hearing that her cousin, Count Styrum, could give her the information she desired. It was not easy, however, to enter into conversation with him, for immediately upon his return to the ball-room he was surrounded by eager questioners, each curious to know all that he could tell. In her friend's interest, however, Adèle was brave. She walked towards the group of gentlemen, who instantly made way for the lovely daughter of their host, and, accosting Styrum, said, "Cousin Karl, let me beg you to conduct me to a seat."

The Count instantly offered her his arm, and, while conducting her through the room, quietly remarked, "I suspect why you have sought me. You want to know the truth with regard to the occurrence in Heinrich's room, concerning which such wild rumours have got abroad with inconceivable rapidity. Am I not right?"

"Yes, cousin; I implore you to tell me the whole truth. My poor Lucie is quite beside herself with anxiety. Only see how pale she is! Never was there a woman so self-controlled as she. Look, she is smiling now, as she must so often when her heart is almost breaking; but she cannot quite conceal her torturing fear that something terrible has occurred. Take me to a seat beside her, that you may tell us both what has happened."

"That I cannot do," the Count replied, gravely. "I will willingly tell you all that I know, but I cannot describe to that most unfortunate woman the disgraceful scene which I was forced to witness. You are her most intimate friend, and yet I doubt if even you will be able to tell her the whole truth. With this I can acquaint only yourself, your father, and your brother."

Adèle looked around; she noted the curious eyes fixed upon the Count and herself; she knew that it would create gossip if she indulged in a longer tête-à-tête with her cousin, if she withdrew with him from the throng; but she would brave it all for the sake of her poor Lucie. "Let us go out upon the balcony," she said; "there is no one there at present; the gentlemen are all gathered about Heinrich and his friends."

It excited no little observation in the ball-room when Styrum led his cousin out upon the balcony.

"Look, look!" the major's wife whispered to her crony, Frau von Rose. "That is a little too strong. I know they are relatives and all that, but it is possible to presume too much upon such relationships. Out alone on the balcony with him! Who would ever have thought it of the little prude!"

"What are you thinking of, my dear?" Frau von Rose whispered in her turn. "Adèle is as good as betrothed to the Assessor von Hahn. I have it from a trustworthy source."

"Indeed! So much the more reason why she should not be out on the balcony alone with her handsome cousin. It is scandalous! Who would have thought of such things happening here at the President's! First this terrible Sorr story, and then such conduct on Adèle's part."

"But, my dear, we advised her to ask information of the Count."

"We?---- I beg pardon; I never should have advised any such thing; and if I remember rightly, you only mentioned that the Count could tell all about the matter if he would; you never hinted a word of advice. But of course Fräulein Adèle will blame you if her father scolds her for such behaviour, and very unseemly behaviour it is for a young girl to talk to a gentleman alone in a dark night upon a balcony."

"I myself do not think it exactly the thing, but there's no great harm in it. The balcony is as light as day from the lights in this room. You can see them both quite plainly. Look, Adèle is leaning against the iron balustrade, and the Count is standing at a respectful distance talking to her. He is telling her all about Herr von Sorr, it is plain to be seen; and at any rate, my dear, what affair is it of ours if Fräulein Adèle finds it convenient to talk more confidentially to her cousin on the balcony than she could here in the ballroom? She will know the particulars of the affair when she comes back, and we will make her tell us all about it."

While the elderly ladies in the ball-room were thus unfavourably discussing the interview on the balcony, Adèle was listening with painful interest to her cousin's story. She had long known of the evil reports circulated with regard to Sorr; they had been matter of discussion in the President's family circle, and her father had often declared that he could not ask to his house a man whose reputation was so bad. It was only in compliance with Adèle's entreaty that Sorr had been invited to this birthday ball, and this only when Heinrich, upon being consulted, had insisted that the silly stories concerning Sorr were false, that they were all inventions of Lieutenant von Arnim, who hated Sorr.

Adèle, too, had hitherto given little credit to what was said of Sorr; she knew that her friend led a very unhappy life with her husband, that his habits were extremely dissipated, and that he neglected his wife shamefully, but that he had ever been engaged in any dishonourable transaction she did not believe. Nevertheless, at times, when Lucie seemed oppressed with a sadness which no words of hers could relieve or lighten, doubts had occurred to her; doubts which, however, since Lucie never accused her husband, nor even alluded to him, the young girl had resolutely banished, defending Sorr against her father's suspicions, and treating all evil rumour concerning him as idle gossip.

Now she knew the truth; and her heart seemed to stand still as she learned that all that had been hitherto whispered of evil against Sorr was exceeded by the facts,--her Lucie's husband was a detected thief!

"My poor, poor Lucie!" she said, with infinite sadness, when Styrum had finished his narrative. "What will be done now? What does that dreadful Repuin mean to do?"

"I am not sufficiently familiar with the relations which have existed hitherto between Sorr and Count Repuin to answer that question," Styrum replied, "but I must confess that my first thought was that Repuin had brought about this catastrophe intentionally. I may do the Count injustice, for he acted as any man of honour would have done in his place. He could not suppress his knowledge of Sorr's theft, but he acquainted me with it with great tact, leaving it to me to spare the thief or to bring him to justice, and he acquiesced in my decision, that out of consideration for your father the fellow must be let alone. And no one can blame him for wishing to adjust without my assistance his own relations with Sorr, who has hitherto passed in society for his friend. He has only done his duty, and that in the most honourable manner. All this I admit, and yet I cannot help suspecting that he acted in accordance with a deep-laid scheme and in furtherance of his own evil designs. I can never forget the look the man cast upon Frau von Sorr when you took your friend's part so bravely, and the memory of it fills me with distrust of him. Therefore I had intended to tell you as soon as possible all that happened, and am especially grateful to you for this opportunity to do so, since you are in a position to judge whether any danger threatens your friend. She certainly must have told you much that will enable you to know this."

"Oh, if she only had!" said Adèle. "Unfortunately, it is not so. I love Lucie like a sister. When we were at school together she confided everything, even her very thoughts, to me: we had no secrets from each other; but I no longer possess her confidence. I know she loves me as well as ever, and if she could confide in any one, she would confide in me and let me share and soothe her sorrow. Therefore I cannot but hope for a return of the old intimacy. After her marriage I had not seen her for a long time, and our correspondence had flagged, when something more than a year ago she suddenly came here with her husband to live. Her first visit was to me, and I was indescribably happy to see her once more. She showed me all her old affection, but not her old confidence. I soon perceived that she was very unhappy,--she could not prevent my seeing that,--but to all my questions she returned evasive answers, and I only judged from common report that her marriage was an unhappy one, she has never spoken of it to me. And of her relations with Count Repuin I know only what my own observation has taught me. He has been for months Sorr's most intimate friend; they seemed inseparable. Sorr lives very quietly, he never gives large parties, but he frequently entertains a few friends, among whom, Heinrich has told me, Repuin is always to be found. He has paid assiduous court to my poor Lucie, never heeding the almost offensive coldness of her manner to him. I know how abhorrent his attentions are to her, although she has never mentioned him to me: I can read it in her eyes. This is all I know; you were a witness of the odious scene at supper to-night, it aroused in you the suspicion that troubles me also. My poor, dear Lucie! I am in despair at not knowing how to advise or assist her. I entreat you, dear Karl, to help me; my Lucie deserves to find faithful friends in her terrible misery. Tell me, what will happen,--what can we do?"

As she spoke, Adèle looked up at her cousin, her large, dark eyes glowing with entreaty and filled with tears. How beautiful her eyes were!--almost more beautiful now when their brilliancy was dimmed by those "kindly drops" than when sparkling with youthful gayety.

Count Styrum was wonderfully impressed,--Adèle's cordial confidence enchanted him. Frau von Sorr had already interested him; he was now resolved to do everything in his power to aid her in her misery. Adèle's friend could not be the accomplice of her unworthy husband.

But what could he do? He pondered this question in vain. "What will happen?" To this he could make no reply; he could not imagine what Repuin contemplated doing.

"You do not reply, Karl?" Adèle asked. "Will you not help me to protect my poor Lucie from that horrible Count Repuin, to stand by her in her misery?"

"With all my heart I will, my dear Adèle," he replied, taking her hand and kissing it so fervently that the girl withdrew it with a blush.

"I accept your promise," she said; "we are now allies, and I am convinced that you will be a help indeed. How we can aid my friend I do not yet know, but I am sure that in her great need she will accord me her full confidence, and appeal to me for help; then, Karl, I will summon you and remind you of your promise."

"And I will come. Ask of me what you will, you shall not ask in vain."

"I thank you from my soul; you inspire me with courage and hope. But look, cousin, there comes Repuin, followed by Sorr. Take me to Lucie quickly,--I cannot leave her alone!"

Repuin, as he entered the ball-room, looked around for Heinrich von Guntram. To reach him he was obliged to traverse the entire length of the room, and he waited several minutes to do this, since he did not wish to disturb the dancers. He paused in the doorway and let Sorr pass him, saying as he did so, "Good-night, my dear fellow," in a tone evidently intended to be heard by all about him. "I hope," he added, "that your terrible headache will be gone by tomorrow. Indeed, you ought to consult a physician. Pray give my regards to your wife."

He held out his hand to Sorr with a friendly nod, and then, turning to Assessor von Hahn, he forestalled the question which that worthy was about to address to him, by saying, "I am sorry for poor Sorr; he seems to me in a very bad way. See, Herr von Hahn, how pale he is! He only drank a couple of glasses of champagne, and they have given him a racking headache."

"Is his present ghastly appearance entirely the effect of champagne?" the Assessor asked, with a slight laugh.

"What else could it be? Do you think he can be seriously ill? I trust not."

"It seems, Count, that your great kindness of heart prompts you to endeavour to hush up this ugly story. I admire your amiability. I am naturally kind-hearted myself. I make no boast of it,--the gifts of nature are variously distributed; but it enables me to understand you, Count, and it makes it all the more painful for me to tell you that you never will succeed in crushing this scandal,--nothing else if talked of throughout the room. See how every one looks at Sorr, how his most intimate acquaintances avoid him, turning away as he passes them. Your kindness can avail that man nothing, Count; he is lost, branded, and he knows it; a guilty conscience speaks in every feature of his face."

Repuin had observed the same thing, and exulted to see the contempt with which Sorr was treated by those of his acquaintance whom he was obliged to pass in gaining his wife's side. What had taken place in Heinrich's room was already known here, then. The young officers had blabbed; they could not have told all, for they did not know all, but enough had been said to affect greatly Sorr's reputation.

This was just what he had intended, that Heinrich and his companions should suspect Sorr's guilt without being sure of it. He had hoped to find the ball-room filled with dark rumours, and his wishes were gratified. Sorr would now be convinced that it needed but a word from Repuin to annihilate him, and that his only hope for the future lay in implicit obedience to the Russian's commands.

He, however, feigned to be greatly amazed. "I do not understand you, Herr von Hahn," he said. "What ugly story is it that my discretion is to crush? Why should poor Sorr have a guilty conscience in addition to a bad headache? What has he done?"

"That you know best, Count."

"I am but a poor hand at guessing riddles, and must beg you not to propound them to me, but to tell me plainly what has happened. I must request an explanation in the interest of my friend Sorr."

The Assessor looked at the Count with a very puzzled air. He really did not know what to think. Arnim had given him a succinct account of what had taken place in Heinrich's study, and had added his opinion that "Sorr was now done for," since Repuin had doubtless detected him in cheating at the game. Arnim's trustworthiness was not to be questioned, but how did his story tally with the Count's behaviour? Surely Repuin would not call a detected cheat his friend?

The Assessor did not know what to believe; he was in a very disagreeable position. The only way out of it for him was to tell the Count what reports were current in the ballroom, and thus justify his over-hasty expressions.

"A most annoying misunderstanding," was the Russian's comment upon his communication. "I cannot, Herr von Hahn, explain the occurrence to you, since it concerns a private matter of Count Styrum's, to whom I have promised silence, but this rumour must be contradicted. Pray come with me, we will make use of this pause in the dance to seek out Herr Heinrich von Guntram, and I will explain matters as far as I may in his presence."

Repuin then walked directly across the room to Heinrich, the Assessor following him, joined by several of the gentlemen, who guessed Repuin's intention and were curious to know more of the scene in Heinrich's study. Thus the Russian was surrounded by quite an audience when he reached Heinrich, who was standing near the door of the balcony talking earnestly with Arnim and Herr von Saldern.

Heinrich replied but coldly to the Count's friendly address. He was very indignant that Repuin should have been the cause of so unpleasant a scandal beneath his father's roof upon this special evening; a scandal that had called forth a decided rebuke from the President with regard to the gaming in his son's apartment. He was also annoyed at the indiscretion that had given rise to such disagreeable rumours, and he visited this annoyance upon the Count, although he had but just entered the room and could not possibly have originated any of them.

Repuin took no notice of his cool reception. "I am sorry to disturb you, Herr von Guntram," he said, in a loud voice, "but I am forced to do so by a very unfortunate misunderstanding, which appears to be wide-spread. It concerns a conversation which took place between your cousin, Count Styrum, Herr von Sorr, and myself. May I beg you to ask Count Styrum to step here for one moment, that I may have his ratification of a declaration which I wish to make in your presence?"

Heinrich was surprised at the conciliatory tone adopted by the Russian, and he could not refuse to accede to his request. He beckoned to Count Styrum, who had returned from conducting Adèle to Frau von Sorr, and was standing near the balcony quietly surveying the assemblage.

"I have to my regret learned from Herr von Hahn." Repuin began when Count Styrum had drawn near, "that the aforesaid conversation between the Count, Herr von Sorr, and myself has given rise to various groundless reports, which I feel it my duty to contradict, in order that the serenity of this charming entertainment may not be disturbed by any silly gossip. I therefore declare, and beg all the gentlemen who hear me to take notice of what I say, that the conversation between Count Styrum, Herr von Sorr, and myself, which has given rise to all this talk, related solely to private personal matters, and ended, I trust, entirely to Count Styrum's satisfaction, so that we agreed to forget the whole affair, and not to speak of it again. I beg Count Styrum kindly to confirm this statement."

Styrum did not immediately reply. Could he confirm Repuin's words? They contained no falsehood, and yet they were calculated to deceive the hearers, who would infer from them that the question was of a personal disagreement, which, after a friendly adjustment, was to be forgotten. Did they not imply a justification of Sorr which Styrum neither could nor would ratify? What was Repuin's motive in thus gently treating the thief whom so short a time before he had seemed unwilling to allow to escape?

"May I ask for the confirmation of my words, Count?" Repuin asked again, on noticing Styrum's hesitation. "Have I not spoken truly?"

"What you have said is true," said Styrum, who could hesitate no longer, "but it might give rise to a further misunderstanding, which is under all circumstances to be avoided. I therefore add that there was no question of any quarrel."

"I did not mean to imply that there was, and state expressly that there was no talk of a quarrel between Count Styrum and Herr von Sorr. I believe this affair may now be considered as dismissed."

"Not quite, Count," Lieutenant von Arnim here interposed. "The affair has unfortunately acquired such publicity that it must be pursued a little farther. If you desire to re-establish as a man of honour Herr von Sorr, whom in the presence of many witnesses you treated as no gentleman should be treated by another, you must do it rather more formally. Your conduct towards Herr von Sorr exposed him to suspicions which nothing that either Count Styrum or you have said suffices to allay. I have no desire, Count, to meddle in your private affairs; I do not care to know what was the nature of the conversation to which you summoned Herr von Sorr after so unceremonious a fashion. I shall be quite content--so shall we all--if you and Count Styrum will simply declare 'We consider Herr von Sorr a man of honour.' Let me beg you to make this declaration, Count Styrum."

"I do not feel justified in making such a declaration," Styrum replied.

"Nor do I," Repuin added, "since I do not admit that any one has a right to demand of me a statement as to the honour of a gentleman."

"Your opinion is made sufficiently plain by your refusal," Arnim said, very gravely. Then, turning to Heinrich von Guntram, he added, "I think, Guntram, that you now owe it to yourself, to your family, and to all of us to require this Herr von Sorr to leave a society where there is no place for him."

"I protest against such a construction of my words!" exclaimed Repuin, with a dark glance at the lieutenant.

"No quarrelling, gentlemen, let me entreat," Heinrich von Guntram interposed. "We have had enough, and more than enough, annoyance for to-night. Have some regard for my father and my sister, Arnim, and recall your demand, compliance with which would only provoke a fresh scandal."

"There is no occasion for farther discussion," said Repuin. "Herr and Frau von Sorr are just leaving the room. I advised Sorr to go, he complained of a headache."

"A very prudent proceeding on Herr von Sorr's part," sneered Arnim. "He relieves our friend Guntram of a disagreeable duty. For the present the matter is settled. You must decide for yourself, Guntram, how to act in future with regard to this precious Herr von Sorr. Do not, gentlemen, allow this miserable affair to disturb our enjoyment any longer. The music is just beginning; let us at least have one more dance."

To this all were agreed, even Count Repuin, who was not sorry to be relieved from duty as Sorr's champion. Everything was taking the course he desired; his victim could no longer frequent this society; he was delivered over into the hands of his enemy.

Herr and Frau von Sorr had indeed left the ball-room before Arnim's last words. Their suburban dwelling was not far from the President's, it took scarcely a quarter of an hour to drive thither, but to Lucie the time appeared an eternity.

She leaned back among the cushions, whilst her husband looked out of the carriage window. Not a word did he address to his wife during the drive, nor did she once break the silence. She did not wish to question him to provoke an explanation, she would fain have avoided any such altogether. She knew nothing decided with regard to what had occurred at the President's. A few remarks, not intended for her ear, had hinted at a most disagreeable scene, in which her husband had been implicated, and in her anxiety she had applied to Adèle for information. Her friend, however, had no time to impart this, for scarcely had Count Styrum conducted her to Lucie when Sorr made his appearance, stating that he was not well, and that he wished to leave immediately, without any formal adieux.

A few words only Adèle had contrived to whisper into her friend's ear, few but significant. "Courage, dearest Lucie; remember, I am your devoted friend; trust me; whatever happens, I will stand by you."

What did these words mean? Lucie ran over in her mind the events of the evening, but found no explanation of them. Adèle could not know how insulting had been Count Repuin's presumption, or how sharply he had been reproved. But if she did not know, she perhaps suspected it, and therefore had her championship of her friend been so eager.

Had the Count perhaps had a quarrel with her husband? They had returned to the ball-room together, the Count with his head carried haughtily, Sorr, on the contrary, with an air that seemed to Lucie to express profound despair. Just so pale and downcast had he looked on the day when he told her that the last remnant of his property had been lost at the gaming-table, and that not his money only, but also his honour would be sacrificed if he could not quickly find means to pay his gambling debts. He threatened to put a bullet through his head if Lucie did not sign a power of attorney that placed her maternal inheritance, her whole fortune, at his disposal. He had promised then never to play again, and to alter his whole manner of life.

Lucie had long known that he had broken his word, that he had played away her property also, and she only called this scene to mind now because he had the same air of utter despair that had characterized him on this evening when he had followed Repuin into the ball-room.

What had happened? Should she ask him? No! Whither could such questions lead? He had long ceased to tell her the truth; and even were he to do so, she might well wish it untold. Even to guess at the dark ways by which he maintained his position in society was misery enough. Why should she wish to know the terrible truth? He must have been playing again; Repuin had probably lost, and some quarrel had ensued, which---- No, she would pursue such thoughts no further. She trembled to think that her husband might have revelations to make to her that would rob her of the last remnant of her peace of mind.

The carriage stopped; Sorr got out, and, without troubling himself about his wife, unlocked the door and entered the house. She followed him, and they ascended the stairs in silence. In the anteroom he lighted the two candles left in readiness for them. When they returned from an evening entertainment it was his custom, after lighting the candles, to retire to his room with a curt "good-night," but this he did not do. "I have something to say to you," he said, handing Lucie one of the candles. "I will go with you into the drawing-room."

She made no reply; her hand trembled as she took the light. She had a foreboding that a crisis in her destiny was at hand; that the communication which Sorr was about to make to her would be momentous both for her and for him.

He went first. In the drawing-room he placed the light upon the table, and then sank upon the sofa as if exhausted. He sat for a long time in silence, his head resting on his hand, his looks bent on the ground.

Lucie did not disturb him, but remained standing by the table in front of the sofa, silently watching him, marking the convulsive twitching of his lips, the terrible change in his countenance. She saw the struggle going on within him.

At last he seemed to have come to a determination. He looked up, but when he saw Lucie's dark eyes fixed searchingly upon him he instantly averted his own. He sprang up from the sofa and paced the room with hurried, irregular strides, pausing at last before his wife. He tried to look at her, but he could not meet her eye. It was inexpressibly difficult to speak the first word. He longed to have her question him, that he might reply, but Lucie was silent. He felt her keen glance watching his every movement, and at last he could endure it no longer.

This must end,--this terrible silence was not to be borne; he must break it by some word, no matter what. "I am ruined!" he said.

"I know it; we have been so for a long while," was Lucie's reply, given with forced calmness.

"You deceive yourself. I am far worse off than you think. I have lost all,--everything! More than we ever possessed! I am overwhelmed with debt; we are on the brink of an abyss from which there is but one means of escape."

"We should have adopted it long since."

Sorr looked up in astonishment. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"That we must at last resign the life we have led hitherto. I have often, but always in vain, begged you to do so. Now necessity will force you to it, and if you really see this at last I shall bless this hour. By honest labour we can regain what we have lost. We have influential friends, by whose aid we can easily begin life anew in another city. You can procure some official position, and I will give lessons in music and drawing, or in French and English. With courage and determination we can easily achieve a secure independence."

"You are mad!"

This was all the reply that Sorr had for Lucie's words. Then he laughed aloud. "It is incredible," he said, more to himself than to her, "the wild ideas that will fill a woman's brain! An official post with a few hundred thalers of salary--too much to starve upon, too little to procure enough to eat! Tiresome work, from morning until night, and hectored by a superior officer, to whom one must cringe. Regarded askance by gentlemen. A pretty position! No, rather a bullet through my brains and the whole mummery at an end. No need to waste a word upon such nonsense. If I cannot live as I have been accustomed to live, I had rather not live at all. This is not the means of escape which I have to propose to you." He paused a moment; it was difficult to say what he had to, but he could delay no longer, and he continued, "We must separate, Lucie!"

"You forget that this is impossible," Lucie replied, forcing herself to speak calmly; "a Catholic marriage cannot be dissolved, or ours would have been so long ago."

"Nonsense! I am not talking of a divorce, which is of course impossible, but of a separation. I have a proposal to make to you; I know that at first it will seem odious to you; I do not like it myself, but upon calm reflection you will see that in it lies our only means of salvation. You must first know how matters stand with me, and this I will tell you in as few words as possible. Our need is such that in my despair I was induced to--to--it must out, there is no help for it--Count Styrum's pocket-book lay open before me, and I took from it a hundred-thaler note."

Lucie recoiled; incapable of uttering a word, she stared at her husband. A thief! No; for this she had not been prepared; this exceeded her worst forebodings,--a thief! And he could confess his shameful deed thus with cynical frankness; he did not even repent it; he was not crushed and despairing. Had he not just expressed his contempt for honest labour? A thief! And to this man she was bound by an indissoluble tie!

Sorr expected no answer; he had now gained the courage to speak; after the confession of the theft nothing was difficult, and he continued, "Well, yes, I could not resist the temptation; the pocket-book lay open before me; the opportunity was too tempting. I thought no one saw me, but I was wrong; Repuin saw it all. Our fate lies in his hand; if he speaks I shall be condemned as a thief, and you will share my dishonour. The wife of the thief who has escaped punishment only by voluntary death is an outcast from society. Your plan of honest labour would prove futile, for none would intrust their children's instruction to a woman at whom the world points the finger of scorn. You will sink into utter misery; that will be your fate, as mine will be to die by my own hand, if you refuse to accede to the proposal in which alone lies safety for us. It is in your power," the wretch continued, speaking rapidly and in a firmer tone, "to secure yourself a gay and joyous existence, free from care, and provided with every luxury that wealth can give, while you keep your conscience clear of the guilt of my death, for it will be your act that drives me to suicide if you refuse to accede to my proposal."

"And what do you ask of me?" Lucie inquired, in a low monotone.

"Count Repuin," Sorr began again, "is madly in love with you. You have hitherto treated him very badly, although you owed it to me to smile upon him, as I have often begged you to do. His love, however, has been only increased by your reserve. He is ready to make any sacrifice for you now. But if he is again repulsed he is resolved upon revenge; he will then be our deadly foe; he will ruin both you and me. You see what is before us. If, however, you consent to our separation. Count Repuin will take you to Italy, or whithersoever you wish to go. He will load you with the costliest gifts, every wish that you can frame will be fulfilled. You will insure yourself a most brilliant position and save my life. It would be worse than madness to say 'no.'"

Lucie's gaze was bent upon the ground. When her husband first began to speak such shameful words, she thought she could not endure life until he should have ended, but she summoned up all her strength of mind and succeeded in conquering the terrible pain that tortured her; she preserved an outward calm, while her heart seemed breaking with horror and indignation.

Sorr patiently awaited her answer. He thought she was considering his proposal, and that was a good sign. He had feared that she would indignantly reject it, give utterance to her detestation of the Russian, and overwhelm him with reproaches for having dared to suggest such a scheme, but nothing of all this had occurred; she had listened quietly. He had prepared himself to overpower her resistance with threats and entreaties, but there seemed to be no need for these. Since she was so calmly considering the matter she would certainly be reasonable in the end. He exulted in so easy and unlooked-for a victory.

At last she spoke: "You then desire that we should part? You yourself would now declare me released for life from every obligation that a wife owes to her husband? You distinctly consent to our separation, and declare that you have no longer any claim upon either my life or my fidelity. Answer me with a simple 'yes,' and I will consider whether to accept your proposal, but before I decide I must be free."

"If you accept my plan, it follows as a matter of course that you are entirely free by my desire," Sorr replied, who could not help thinking her demand rather ambiguous.

"I asked for a simple 'yes' or 'no,' without any 'if.' I must be free before I decide. Unless you say 'yes' unconditionally, I swear to you I will die before I yield to your wishes and part from you."

"Well, then, 'yes,'--you are free. But now be reasonable, Lucie; tell me what to say to Repuin; he expects me tomorrow morning by eight o'clock. I dare not go one minute later."

"I will consider; you shall have my reply before eight to-morrow."

"But, Lucie----"

"You must wait. I will not decide to-night."

"Well, then, as you will. To-morrow morning early. Good-night, Lucie."

He held out his hand, but she turned from him with loathing, and, without even looking at him, took up a candle and left the room. Sorr heard the door of her own room bolted behind her.