Amazed, almost alarmed, the father gazed at him, and casting down his eyes before the count's large, brilliant orbs, he said:
"It would be sinning against Providence if we did not thankfully seize on the means which God has so visibly sent us in our urgent need. Your conscience will reproach you, countess, if you do not accept the help now offered."
Countess Frankenstein looked at the priest with some surprise.
"Come then," she said, turning to Count Rivero, after a moment's silence.
And they all went to the apartments of the young countess. The flowers still bloomed in her room, the crucifix stood in the niche, and at its feet lay the case which held the withered rose.
The portière that divided this room from her bedroom was drawn back. It was a spacious apartment hung entirely with grey silk even to the curtains of the bed, upon which lay the countess in a white négligé, supported by pillows. The sleeve of her right arm was thrown back, and the dreadfully inflamed arm was covered with a wet compress, which a maid who sat near the bed moistened constantly with some strongly smelling fluid from a medicine bottle.
Clara's face was much flushed, her eyes had the brilliance of fever, but they looked calmly resigned, as her friends entered with their sorrowful faces.
As soon as he saw the poor suffering girl, von Stielow rushed past the others, and falling on his knees beside the bed and folding his hands, cried in a stifled voice, "Clara, my Clara!"
"My own friend," she said gently, and stretched out her soft left hand towards him, "how beautiful life is, how sad to think of the death that is so near me,--God will be gracious, He will not part us!"
Stielow bent his head down upon her hand, and touched it lightly with his lips. He could not say a word. Only a deep sob broke from him.