As the count spoke, the young woman had sunk down lower and lower; as he ended she lay at his feet, her eyes stared at him as at some supernatural appearance, horror and hopeless anguish were depicted in her face.
The abbé looked with a mixture of pity and abhorrence at the broken-down creature.
The count gazed at her in silence.
"Thank God," he then said, "that the object of your murderous hate was saved by my hand, or my hand would have slain you without mercy. Try," he said after a short silence, during which, panting, and with anguish in her eyes, she had hung on his lips, "try to gain heaven's forgiveness, use the gifts nature has given you, and which you have hitherto misused in sin, in the holy service of God and his Church. You shall serve me as a tool; and for the sake of the cause to which you shall be dedicated, perhaps it may be possible for you to gain forgiveness of the past."
She looked at him enquiringly; life and hope returned to her face.
"I demand no promises from you, I shall see what you do, and whether your obedience stands the test,--remember that even when I am far away, my eyes will be upon you, that my hand can always reach you, and that vengeance will fall upon your head if you deviate one hair's breadth from the path which I lay down for you. I shall free you from every chain that fetters you here, you shall be free in my service, to use your powers under my direction; but once more: Take heed not to follow your own way, it will lead you to hopeless destruction."
She rose slowly and stood before him, with downcast eyes, her hands crossed upon her breast; it was hard to say what was in her mind, but her features expressed only deep humility and submission.
The count looked at her for a moment in silence.
"I have spoken," he said; "I shall not warn, but punish, if my words are forgotten."
She bent her head in silence.