She looked at him sorrowfully.
"Then my words have been in vain," she said, sadly, "you do not believe me----"
An angry flash passed over his face.
"I believe you," he said, "and I do not want your words, for thank God! I know everything. I think this conversation upon the earlier past will come to an end when I give you a proof that I am acquainted with your last proceeding."
And with a quick angry movement he turned to a casket standing upon a console table before a mirror, opened it and held towards her the letter she had sent by her husband to the Countess Frankenstein.
"You see," he said, "I know the way in which you use the souvenirs of the past against the present."
She shrank back, as if struck by lightning. The paleness of death overspread her face--her features were convulsed, her eyes fixed immovably upon the paper.
"I think this will bring our conversation to an end," he said, with a bitter smile.
A deep crimson flush spread over her face, her limbs trembled, burning passion shone in her eyes.
"No," she cried in a wild voice, "no, it is not at an end--it shall not be at an end!"