"The punishment of death," murmured the count inaudibly.
"Yes, for it is a crime that equals murder," returned the emperor; "indeed, it transcends murder, for it loses the soul of the unhappy woman, and brands her husband with infamy."
"Mercy, mercy!" prayed the wretch.
"No," said Joseph sternly, "you deserve no mercy. Follow me." The emperor returned to is own room, and opening the door that led to the anteroom he called Gunther.
When the valet appeared, Joseph pointed to the count, who was advancing slowly, and now stopped without daring to raise his head.
"Gunther," said the emperor, "I give this man in charge to you. I might require him on his honor not to leave this room until I return; but no man can pledge that which he does not possess; I must, therefore, leave him to you. See that he does not make his escape."
The emperor then recrossed his own room, and closing the door behind him, entered the apartment of the countess. She had revived; and was looking around with an absent, dreamy expression.
"I have been sleeping," murmured she. "I saw the emperor, I felt his arm around me, I dreamed that he was bending over me—"
"It was no dream, Countess Esterhazy," said Joseph softly.
She started, and rose from the sofa, her whole frame tremulous with emotion. Her large; glowing eyes seemed to be searching for the object of her terror, and then her glance rested with inexpressible fear upon the door which led into the emperor's room.