"You knew it, and were silent!"
"It was my father, Gertrud!"
She suddenly drew herself up with almost fierce energy.
"You are right, Count Arnau, it was your father--and it was mine! I shall not forget that."
A heavy, oppressive pause followed. At last Hermann raised his head again.
"We have reached a point now where nothing more can be kept silent or spared. Will you tell me who has revealed the secret?"
Since the confession of the Count a strange change had passed over Gertrud. The anxiety, the conflict which had hitherto been betrayed in her manner, had given place to an unnatural calm; her glance, which had avoided his so timidly, looked at him full and threateningly, and her voice sounded firm and clear as she replied--
"My mother initiated me into the matter so soon as I was old enough to understand it. She had no proofs to make good her rights, nothing but the invincible conviction of her heart. My father did not dare to make public the suspicion he had held for some time against his powerful and influential superior; he mentioned it only to his wife on the morning of the fateful day, and therefore she only was capable of guessing at the truth. She knew that her husband was no cheat, that he was only the sacrifice of a crime; of an already planned, treacherous a assassination--"
"No, Gertrud, no, he was not that!" burst in Hermann. "A crime of the moment, a deed of despair, but no plan. I know it--I was witness of it!"
"Ah--you were a witness!"