On the table, where Christian had caught sight of the fatal letter, lay the cracked shaving-mirror, with the pig's bladder, and odds and ends of tobacco, and all sorts of papers; but the passionately coveted envelope was nowhere to be seen.
Hertha searched the room with the thoroughness of a detective. She tore open the table drawer, threw herself on the floor to spy under bureau and wardrobe; she even shook the top-boots which stood ranged in a row against the wall covered with baize, but not a trace could she discover of the missing letter.
Between the windows, propped against the birchwood chest of drawers, there was an old bookcase, much scratched and ornamented with paintings. Hertha, after a fleeting glance, plucked up courage to examine it closer. Two rows of books stood or lay on the shelves, some of them bound, others in coloured-paper covers.
This, then, was the uncle's library that he had been in the habit of boasting was the most interesting in the world. "When you are particularly nice to me," he would say, "I will invite you to look through it." But there the matter had dropped, for Hertha had never felt inclined to be "particularly nice" to him. And nowhere was this celebrated library without lock or custodian, absolutely at her disposal, and hours might go by before one of the inmates of the house might surprise her--deep in its treasures. She was so delighted, that even the fatal letter was forgotten. Hertha with trembling fingers touched the paper covers, and, looking into the first that lay on the pile, read, "The Adventures of Queen Isabella; or, Secrets of the Court of Madrid"--a title which excited her curiosity to the highest pitch.
As time was precious she began to read in the middle of the sentence on which she had chanced to open. Elly, who had been standing about, rather aimlessly crouched beside her, and tried to snatch a modest share of the forbidden book's splendours over her companion's shoulder.
It was all about a handsome young Don Alvarez, who, returning from a party late at night, is seized by masked ruffians, gagged and blindfolded, and dragged into a luxurious, mysterious, brilliantly lighted apartment, where from behind red satin curtains proceeded ravishing strains of sweet music from cymbals and flutes.
And when he at last dares to draw aside the curtain, what does he see? A coffin, from the pall of which a skull, with two crossed skeleton legs, grins at him in scorn. Blood-red flames and incense rise to the ceiling, and a sepulchral voice speaks in the clouds.
"That is the coffin in which you will lie, in the same hour that you betray, by one word or look, what your eyes have seen, and your ears heard."
So the shuddering young soul was to keep what he had seen and heard a secret, till the end of time.
Hertha heard a bark, and as if waking out of a dream, saw Leo's figure, standing its full height, close beside her. The pug, who had evidently shown him the way, was at his heels.