"The end is death, as in most mystic legends. The breaking of the vow is discovered, and the guilty ones are sacrificed to the offended deity; the priest dies in the flames with the woman he loves."
A short pause followed. Adelaide arose with a rapid movement. She apparently wished to break off the conversation.
"You are right; this legend has something familiar, if it were only the old doctrine of guilt and atonement."
"Do you call that guilt, gracious lady?" Hartmut suddenly dropped the formal title. "Well, yes, by man it is called guilt, and they too punish it with death, without thinking that such punishment can be ecstasy. To perish in the flames after having tasted of the highest earthly happiness, and to embrace this happiness even in death--that is a glorious, divine death, worthy a long life of dull monotony. The eternal, undying right of love glows there like signs of flame in the sky, in spite of all laws of mankind. Do you not think such an end enviable?"
A slight paleness covered the face of the Baroness, but her voice was firm as she answered:
"No; enviable only is death for an exalted, holy duty--the sacrifice of a pure life. One can forgive sin, but one does not admire it."
Hartmut bit his lips, and a threatening glance rested on the white figure which stood so solemn and unapproachable before him. Then he smiled.
"A hard judgment, which strikes my work also, for I have put my whole power into the glorification of this love and death. If the world judge like you---- Ah, permit me, gracious lady."
He quickly approached the divan where she had been sitting, where, with her fan, the japonica also had been left.
"Thank you," said Adelaide, stretching out her hand; but he gave her only the fan.