‘She has given you a son who is nameless. She cast off the son she bore to me because through me his name was infamous. She must pay the penalty.’
‘She must die.’
Greifenstein did not turn round even then. He crossed the room to the chimney-piece and laid his two hands upon it. Still he heard his brother’s voice, though the words were no longer addressed to him. ‘Clara von Rieseneck, your hour is come.’
‘Mercy, Kuno! For God’s sake—’
‘There is no mercy. Confess your crime. The time is short.’ The wretched old woman tried to rise, but Rieseneck’s hand kept her upon her knees.
‘You shall do me this justice before you go,’ he said. ‘Repeat your misdeeds after me. You, Clara Kurtz, were married to me in the year eighteen hundred and forty-seven.’
‘Yes—it is true,’ answered the poor creature in broken tones.
‘Say it! You shall say the words!’
Her teeth chattered. Transfixed by fear, her lips moved mechanically.
‘I, Clara Kurtz, was married to you in the year eighteen hundred and forty-seven.’