"Calm yourself, grandmother! I know why she comes, it has nothing whatever to do with this affair. It must be deathly anxiety, indeed, which compels her to cross my threshold."
The Präsidentin had no time to demand an explanation of what was a mystery to her, for the servant had opened the door to show Gertrud in. The Count was right; it cost her a fearful effort to cross his threshold, and now it was at last done, she remained standing speechless, her eyes fixed on the ground, like one conscious of guilt. Her features were calm, but there was something almost terrible in the fixed look and deathly pallor, almost as if life had left them.
Hermann advanced to meet her.
"You wish to speak with me, mein Fräulein?"
"Yes."
The word fell softly, almost inaudibly from her lips.
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"Pardon, grandmother,--may I beg you to follow me?"
He drew back the portière of the neighbouring room, and followed her in there. The Präsidentin remained behind, she went to the door and once more drew the bolt, then trod noiselessly to the closed portière, and quietly drew the folds somewhat aside--Hermann was capable of anything in this mood, he must not remain unobserved.