The Baron's impatient tone admitted of no further delay, and Sorr began, overcoming his first stammering hesitation as he proceeded. "Herr Baron," he said, "you see in me a wretched man, who appeals to you for aid in recovering his lost happiness. In the terrible misfortunes that have overwhelmed me I have not been guiltless, but I assure you on my honour that I repent the wrong I have done, and that I am determined to begin a new life if through your aid I succeed in attempting it."
"What is it that you want of me? What business have you to ask me for your lost happiness?" the Freiherr interrupted Sorr's studied speech.
"Forgive me, Herr Baron, if, carried away by my emotion, I fail to use the right words in which to convey my request. Bear with me for a little while and you shall learn all. I will be as brief as possible, A few years ago I was a happy man, my fortune was considerable, I enjoyed the esteem of my friends, an exalted position in society, and I possessed a charming wife, to whom I was ardently attached. I lacked but one thing,--the strength to withstand temptation. One passion ruled my life,--the love of gaming. Although I was usually fortunate, my success in winning large sums destroyed in me all appreciation of the value of money. I indulged in the wildest extravagances, and my income was always exceeded by my expenses. Thus my property dwindled almost without my knowledge. My wife, who loved me tenderly, warned me, entreated me, but even her prayers, all-powerful in every other direction, availed nothing to induce me to resist the fatal temptation offered me by cards. It dragged me down into an abyss that engulfed my fortune and that of my wife also. I found myself at last a beggar, my fortune, friends, position in society, and, worse than all, the affection of a wife whom I idolized, all gone. Meanwhile, one of my friends had, with inconceivable cunning and treachery, abused my confidence. The evenings that I spent at the gaming-table he passed with my wife, representing himself as having been sent by me to beguile her solitude. He was enormously wealthy, and no sacrifice being too great in his eyes where the attainment of his vile ends was concerned, he at times forced upon me large sums for the payment of my debts, and I--with shame I confess it--was weak enough, when my wife complained to me of the persistent attentions of this treacherous friend, to entreat her not to offend him by any harsh rejection of them. I had utter confidence in my wife, and never suspected to what depths of infamy my false friend would descend."
"What the devil have I to do with all this?" the Freiherr burst out, more and more disgusted with Sorr, who had hoped his theatrical pathos was producing a very different impression. "For Heaven's sake, come to the point!"
"I am about to do so. My treacherous friend, Count Repuin----"
"Stay! What name was that? Count Repuin, the Russian, Werner's friend and confidant,--was he the man?"
"The same, Herr Baron. I lost the greater part of my fortune to him; he systematically contrived my ruin, believing that when I found myself a beggar, my wife, with destitution staring her in the face, would lend an ear to his vile proposals. When I had lost all, so that I knew not where to turn for the barest necessaries of existence, he carried to my wife the false report that I was dishonoured, that I had been detected in cheating at cards, and that it was in his power to send me to a jail. It was a bold falsehood, but it found credence with my wife, whose esteem for me my passion for play had destroyed; and when he further informed her that, in consideration of a large sum of money, I had resigned to him all claim upon her duty, in short, that I had sold her to him, in her despair the wretched woman believed this lie also."
"Infamous! incredible!" the Freiherr indignantly exclaimed, involuntarily interested at last in Sorr's recital.
"But the scoundrel failed in his schemes, although he has plunged me into misery. Devilish though his cunning was, he failed to take into account one thing,--in which, indeed, he had no faith,--that a woman might be impregnably virtuous. He did not know my Lucie. What was his wealth to her in comparison with her honour? She spurned his offers with contempt, and yet she believed him, and driven by despair almost to madness, she secretly left my house. When on the morning after the fearful night in which I had sacrificed my last hope at the gaming-table I sought my wife's apartment to pray for her forgiveness and to make her the promise for which she had so often implored me, that never again would I touch a card, I found upon her table this terrible letter. Read it, Herr Baron; it will explain to you better than any words of mine the depth of my misery." And Sorr handed to the Freiherr the letter that Lucie had left behind her on the evening of her flight. The old Baron read:
"You have given back to me my freedom; I accept it. It is your desire that we should part; it shall be fulfilled: you will never see me again. Should you dare to persecute me, you will force me to denounce you publicly, and to give to the world the reasons that justify my conduct. The detected thief, who would barter his wife's honour, has forfeited the right to control her destiny.--LUCIE."