"What do you want of him?" asked Schroepfel, moodily.
"I want to see him about our wedding to-morrow," said Eliza calmly; "and you know father has given me permission to go to him and speak with him."
"Yes, he did, and I cannot prevent you from entering, which I would do otherwise," growled Schroepfel. "Go in, then, but do not stay too long; and if he should abuse you again, pray call me, and I will assist you."
"Thank you, dear Schroepfel," said Eliza, "but pray admit me now."
Schroepfel withdrew his settee from the door and allowed Eliza to open it, and, entering to the prisoner, closed it again behind her.
Ulrich von Hohenberg still sat, as Schroepfel had seen him, at the table, leaning his head on his hand; only he had now covered his eyes with his hands, and long sighs issued from his breast. He seemed not to know that the door had opened and some one had entered, or rather perhaps he thought it was only Schroepfel, and he did not wish to take any notice of him.
Eliza Wallner stood leaning against the wall, and gazed at him a long time with a wondrous expression of love and grief; for a moment she laid her hand on her bosom, as if to stifle the cry which her lips were already about to utter; then she cast a beseeching glance toward heaven, and, as if strengthened by this mute invocation, she stepped forward.
"Captain Ulrich von Hohenberg!" she said, in her sweet, melodious voice.
He gave a start, dropped his hand from his face, and jumped up.
"Eliza Wallner!" he said, breathlessly and in great confusion.