"Do you know me, master?"
At that moment the flames blazed high up and fell with the brightness of daylight upon every feature in the noble, proud face of the Egyptian woman, and upon every line of her slight, lofty figure.
"Xenobia!" cried the baron, opening his arms, "Xenobia!"
The brown woman threw herself, with a cry of mad rapture, on his bosom, and held him as if she would never part again with the man of her love. But the very next moment she tore herself away from him, stepped back, and stood there motionless, her arms crossed on her bosom. Czika was standing between her and the baron, turning her large dark eyes full of amazement from the one to the other.
The baron took her by the hand, and stepping up to the gypsy woman, he said to her, in a tone which, in spite of all his efforts, betrayed his deep emotion:
"Xenobia, is this child----"
He could not continue; in vain he tried to utter the word. At last he stammered:
"Your and my child?"
"Yes, master," said the gypsy, without stirring, but fixing her dark, bright eyes on the baron.
Oldenburg lifted the child in his arms and pressed her to his bosom. Oswald felt he ought to leave the three alone, and went back into the wood. There he sat down near the edge. It was the same place where he had been lying the other day dreaming such glorious things of Melitta, and where he had afterwards heard Czika play the lute, while the Brown Countess was busy with the fire, and sang with her deep, sonorous voice the Hungarian melody. What changes had taken place since that day! How much he had lost and won since! Then his heart beat high with expectation; now his soul was filled with sadness and grief. Why had she made him so indescribably happy if her love was, after all, but the sovereign whim of a moment, only an amusing play to fill up a vacant day? Had he not all the time felt in his soul that she, the haughty aristocrat, would drop him again sooner or later? Had he not, the very first time when he heard Oldenburg's name mentioned, recognized in that man almost instinctively his rival? And he had to confess now that that man possessed everything calculated to kindle a heroic passion in a great lady. Rank and riches, eminent talents, the courage of a knight without fear or reproach, and just enough of the character of a man of the world to captivate the fancy of a woman whose heart is not absolutely pure.