Clotilde darted toward the stairs.
"That is his step," she murmured.
She heard a voice below, asking: "Clotilde, where are you?"
"My father! my father!" cried the young girl, rushing down the stairs.
The count was waiting for her below, and received her in his arms. "My daughter! my daughter!" he murmured, "what does this mean?"
"I don't know myself."
"But what is the meaning of this scaffold before the house, and why are all the windows closed?"
"Schneider had the scaffold put up there, and I ordered all the windows closed; I shut them that I might not have to see you die."
"But it was Schneider who opened the door of my prison for me, and let me go on my own recognizance, at the same time inviting himself to dinner to-morrow."