Judith had been reclining in a corner of the carriage. A dress of heavy black silk draped her slender form, a splendid lace shawl enveloped her head, and upon her forehead was the diamond diadem, the heirloom of the Baranowskis. But her face was set, and only an occasional sigh indicated the near approach of the hour she had been working for with almost superhuman energy. She laid her hand on her husband's arm: "Agenor, an honest man keeps his word at any cost."
"But it is for your good. You know what Stiegle--"
"No more words. Let us drive slowly now." Unwillingly he gave the order. The banderium, who had been left behind, collected again, and surrounded the carriage. The custom-house was in sight. "Hurrah!" shouted the peasants on guard. "Hurrah!" responded the banderium. Volleys crashed, the band played, but the confused shouting of the crowd overpowered all. Little could be understood, but that little was unpleasant. Some of the guard raised their axes and clubs threateningly. The banderium gathered closer about the carriage. The count sank back in his seat, deathly pale, but Judith sat erect, looking quietly from right to left. And thus they passed the custom-house.
From thence the street widened, and the crowd became greater. But, strange to say, when the music ceased the noise of the onlookers also ended. Had the shouts been provoked by this ovation, or were the people awed by the imperious glance of this pale woman?
There are some still living in the town who remember the entrée of the Countess Judith Baranowski, and if you ask regarding it they answer: "It is impossible to describe her appearance, or our emotions when we met her eyes. It was as if she were dying, and yet she had the air of a queen. Those who met her glance were hushed into silence; and when the peasants removed their caps, we did the same."
There was no particular ovation at the triumphal arch. Even the burgomaster felt it would be imprudent to risk breaking the spell which held the multitude in check; so his address was very brief, and the countess's thanks equally so.
Agenor turned to Judith: "I entreat you not to stop at your brother's door. It means certain destruction."
"It must be," she replied; and when he hesitated she herself gave Fedko the command.
And, indeed, it looked as if the count were right. A burst of rage and indignation filled the air when their destination became apparent. "What an insult! what a disgrace!" yelled a thousand throats. "Down with her! down with her!" The guards were pushed aside, axes were lifted, and the fight began. The carriage stopped, its only protection being a few of the mounted men who kept close to it.
The instinct of the cavalier was roused in the count. Drawing a pistol from the girdle of his fur cloak, he leaped out, when suddenly Judith, who as yet had sat still, staring rigidly at the mob, rose to her full height, so that the diamonds on her brow flashed like sunlight. "Away!" she cried to the mounted guards, so authoritatively that they instantly obeyed. "Away!" she said to Agenor, who stood in front of her.