Oswald glanced at the letter, which summoned Melitta, as Bemperlein had presumed, to start immediately for Birkenhain if she wished to see her husband once more before his death.
"You must go, Melitta, beyond doubt," said Oswald, folding up the letter. "You would never forgive yourself if you neglected this duty."
Melitta threw herself passionately into his arms: "I meant from the beginning to go, but I wanted you to confirm my decision," she said. "I shall start to-night, instantly. Will you go with me, Mr. Bemperlein?"
"That is what I came for," said Bemperlein. "We have prepared the whole plan. If we start in an hour we shall reach the ferry by sunrise. On the other side we can take post-horses to B----, and thence go by railway. Thus we reach Birkenhain day after to-morrow, at the latest."
"You dear, good friend," said Melitta, taking both of Bemperlein's hands in her own and pressing them cordially.
"Pray, pray, madam," cried Mr. Bemperlein, "quite on the contrary--I mean--only my duty, nothing more."
"I will get ready at once," said Melitta, taking a candle. "You stay here, Oswald. If any one should see you here, you will have come with Bemperlein. But no one will see you."
Melitta had left the room. Soon the silent house awoke to the sound of hurried steps, of doors which were hastily opened and closed, and of low voices speaking anxiously one to another.
Of the two men, neither dared for a time to break the silence. Both felt the strange nature of the position in which they suddenly found themselves, especially Bemperlein, who had not yet been able to recover from his surprise. Melitta stood so unattainably high in his eyes that he found it absolutely impossible to comprehend how any mortal could attain so high; and yet he was so accustomed to look upon everything she did as undoubtedly right and good, that he dared not make an exception of this case.
"We meet quite strangely again, Mr. Bemperlein," Oswald said at last.