"'My heart was hot with shame and anger, but I lingered. "Let her speak," I answered, pointing to the bed. "It is she against whom I have sinned, and her word I will obey. Irene! may I not stay by your side? Tell me that you forgive!"
"'I clutched passionately at the curtain, resolved to tear it aside, and plead with Irene upon my knees. But I was held from behind in a strong, vise-like grasp, and one of the monks who stood there on guard sternly wrested the curtain from my hands.
"'"Away with him!" cried the Count, his voice shaking with passion. "Rudolph, do you hear!"
"'I nerved myself for a struggle, but in that moment's pause a thin, white hand stole from behind the curtain and held mine for a moment.
"'"Martin, go quickly!" said a faint, weak voice, so altered that I scarcely recognised it as the voice of Irene. "It is my wish—my command."
"'"One word, Irene!" I cried, struggling to free myself. "Just one word!"
"'"Farewell!"
"'"Irene, you are my wife. Have you nothing else to say to me?"
"'"Farewell!"
"'There was no sweetness, no regret in that single word. I bowed my head in despair and went.'"