Bertram's countenance, usually so quiet and calm, assumed for an instant an offended and almost contemptuous air, and bitter words were on his tongue; but his angry eye accidentally met Elise's, anxiously and imploringly directed toward him. He could not master himself sufficiently to accept Feodor's hand, but at least he could control his anger. "Come, sister," said he, gently leading Elise toward the door which the colonel indicated to him by a silent nod.
Elise had not the courage to leave her lover without a word of farewell; or rather, she was cruel enough to inflict this torture on Bertram. Stretching both hands toward him, she said softly, "I thank you, Feodor; God and love will reward you for having greatly and nobly conquered yourself."
Feodor whispered to her, "And will you remember your vow?"
"Ever and always!"
In bending over to kiss her hand, he murmured, "Expect me, then, to-morrow."
"I will expect you," said she, as she passed him on her way to the door.
No word of their whispered conversation escaped the attentive ear of Bertram; and he understood it, for he loved her, and knew how to read her thoughts in her looks and her eyes. As he followed her through the long corridor, and her light, graceful figure floated before him like a vision, a deep, despairing melancholy settled on his heart, and he murmured to himself, "To-morrow she expects him!" But with desperate determination he continued to himself, "Well, then, woe to him if I find him going astray!"
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