"No. I am sorry it must be so, but here are my heartiest congratu--"
He stopped, frightened at the gloom and pallor which overspread the count's face.
"Of course," he murmured, "how could there be an alternative? Pardon me, I only asked because, when one is in a fix like this--I will do it. Please arrange with the nearest priest. It can take place to-morrow."
Here Von Wroblewski looked at him sharply. A shudder passed through him.
"After the wedding you will kill yourself?"
The count was silent.
"He will do it," thought the magistrate, "certainly, or very probably. That cannot be allowed. Since the Jews have become insubordinate, he is my only reliance, and, besides, it is my duty to save him."
"Hm! my dear count, I am no friend of the Jews, but I do not consider the disgrace such that you cannot survive it."
Agenor shook his head. "It is hard to reason with sentiment. My family pride, my name and race--that was the backbone of my life. It was taught me by my father, and I have clung to it with body and soul. I cannot live a cripple with a broken back. That is all!"
"That is all," repeated Wroblewski, mechanically. He had delayed the suggestion of his plan, but it had to come at last. "Ahem! Listen, my dear friend; you can always have recourse to that. But if I--you mentioned just now that the doctor had produced an artificial sleep for to-night--if you could induce such a sleep for her soul, to last one, two, or three years, or as long as you liked? It would depend on yourself when she was to be wakened."