The countess looked down thoughtfully, von Stielow's eyes hung on her face with an expression of deadly anguish.
The door leading to the inner apartments opened and Father Ignatius, the confessor to the countess and her daughter, entered.
He wore the black dress of a priest, his manner was simple, graceful, and dignified, his pale and regular features, surrounded by short black hair, expressed spiritual repose, firmness, and great self-knowledge, his dark eyes looked full of intelligence beneath the strongly marked eyebrows.
"The countess is resigned to God's will, and desirous of receiving the holy sacrament, that she may be prepared, should it please God not to hear our prayers for her recovery," he said slowly in a low and impressive voice.
"Oh! my God! my God!" cried von Stielow, in despair, "I conjure you, countess, seize on the means that heaven has sent you!"
"Count Rivero," said Countess Frankenstein, indicating the count to her confessor, "offers to save my daughter by means of a remedy which his study of medicine has caused him to discover; you will understand--I beg your forgiveness, count--that I must act cautiously where the life of my child is at stake. I expect the doctor every moment, Oppolzer too will come again,--he has indeed little hope."
Father Ignatius cast a quick searching glance at the count, who replied to it with a look of calm dignity, almost of proud superiority.
"It is certainly a grave and difficult question," said the father hesitatingly.
"Every moment makes recovery more doubtful," cried the count with some vehemence. "I believe," he then continued calmly, "that the father will be of my opinion, that in this unusual and extreme case we must try everything, and place confidence in most unusual means."
As he spoke he looked firmly at the confessor, and raising his hand slightly he made the sign of the cross in a peculiar way, over his brow and his breast.