“You will return in an hour?” Marie asked.
“Yes; I shall seek the gentlemen, and bring them with me,” he graciously replied.
“Thanks; I will then await you.”
Splittgerber departed, and Marie returned to Ebenstreit who, amazed, muttered some unintelligible words, having listened to her mysterious conversation with the old book-keeper.
“Now to you, sir!” said she, her whole tone and manner changing to harsh command; “the hour for settling our accounts has arrived—the hour that I have awaited, purchasing it by four years of torture, self-contempt, and despair. This comedy is at an end. I will buy of you my freedom. Do you hear me? I will cast off these galley-chains. I will be free!”
“Oh, Marie!” he cried, retreating in terror, “with what fearful detestation you regard me!”
“Do you wonder at it? Have I ever concealed this hate from you, or ever given you hope to believe that a reconciliation would be possible between us?”
“No, truly you have not, but now you will forgive me, for you know how I love you, and have provided for your future. You will remain rich, and I shall be poor.”
Marie regarded him with unspeakable contempt. “You are more despicable than I thought you were. You do not deserve forbearance or pity, for you are a dishonorable bankrupt, who cares not how much others may suffer, provided his future is secured. I will not, however, suffer the name which I have borne against my will, to be defamed and become a mark for scorn. I will compel you to remain an honest man, and be just to your creditors. I propose to pay the bills of exchange, which will be presented to you to-day, provided you will consent to my conditions.”
“Oh, Marie, you are an angel!” he cried, rushing toward her and kneeling at her feet, “I will do all that you wish, and consent to every thing you propose.”