"We may feel perfectly easy, dear child. To-day not a hair of your father's head will be harmed!"
"But to-morrow!--Great God! what may happen tomorrow?" she cried, with anguish.
"Trust in God, my child," said the monk; "he alone is master of the future."
"Oh! unhappy creature that I am.--You hesitate to tell me the fearful truth!--You dread my tears!--Do you not see, dearest Father, that my eyes are dry?--that I am calm and resigned?--For God's sake, speak to me!" cried Hermengarde. "This uncertainty is worse than death! I am strong enough to bear anything but that,--we have no time to lose in idle tears now. The few short hours that are left us must be spent in trying to avert to-morrow's fearful doom!"
Hermengarde spoke earnestly, and her touching distress suggested a last hope to the good Abbot.
"Your pleadings may soften the Emperor, my child," he said. "I will gladly use my influence to get you to his presence.--You may be more successful than I."
"You have failed! Then, indeed, all hope is lost," she cried, despairingly.
"Calm yourself, my child," said Guido, "all is not lost yet."
"Oh! I am calm, my Father; my mind is entirely composed.--Reverend Sir, take me at once, I beseech you, to the Emperor!"
And with wonderful stoicism she began her preparations; for though her heart was wellnigh breaking within her, she had summoned all her courage for this one last effort.