“Oh, this unblessed letter!” exclaimed the count, with a shudder. “I tell you, Cecil, I feel that it contains misfortune. It has lain with a heavy weight like a nightmare upon my breast and I yet felt not the strength in me to draw it forth and read it in Natalie’s presence!”
“That was well!” said Cecil, “and it was for that reason that I told you in advance that the letter was from Russia, that you might be on your guard. But now, Sir Count, we are alone, and now you can read it!”
“Yes, away with this childish fear!” cried the count, with resolution. “I will be a man, Cecil, and whatever this letter may contain, I will bear it like a man!”
Drawing forth the letter, he broke the seal with a trembling hand, and threw the cover across the room. Then unfolding the letter, he read. Behind him stood Cecil, involuntarily trembling with anxious expectation.
The letter fell from the count’s hands, and a deadly paleness spread over his face, which bore the expression of utter despair.
“Oh, my prophetic soul!” he sighed.
“Your presentiment is then fulfilled!” anxiously asked Cecil.
“Yes, it is fulfilled! My property is sequestrated; they refuse to send me the money I required; they command my immediate return to Russia, as my conge has expired and my respite is at an end!”
“And you are lost, my lord, if you do not obey this command!” said Cecil.
“And Natalie?” reproachfully asked the count. “Can I, dare I leave her?”