"Ah! you know his handwriting, then? He has written to you, too?" sighed the countess. "Well, then, read it. It is a letter he wrote me from Berlin at the commencement of his captivity. Read it!"
"Yes, I will read it," murmured Elise. "These written words pierce my eyes like daggers, but I will not mind the pain. I will read it."
She read the letter, which annihilated her whole happiness, slowly and with terrible composure. Drop by drop did she let the poison of these words of love, directed to another, fall into her soul. When she had finished reading it, she repeated to herself the last cruel words, the warm protestations, with which Feodor assured his bride of his unalterable love and fidelity, with which he swore to her that he looked upon his love to her not only as a happiness, but as a sacred obligation; that he owed her not only his heart but his honor. Then long and carefully she considered the signature of his name, and folding up the paper, she handed it back, with a slight inclination to the countess.
"Oh, my God! I have loved him beyond bounds," muttered she, low; and then, unable to restrain her tears, she put her hands to her face and wept aloud.
"Poor, unhappy girl!" exclaimed the countess, laying her arm tenderly around her neck.
Elise drew back violently and regarded her almost in anger. "Do not commiserate me. I will not be pitied by you! I—"
She suddenly stopped, and an electric shock passed through her whole frame. She heard the concerted signal; and the tones of the post-horn, which slowly and heavily sounded the notes of the sad Russian melody, grated on her ear like a terrible message of misfortune.
The two women stood for a moment silent and motionless. They both listened to the dirge of their love and their happiness, and this simple, hearty song sounded to them horrible and awful in the boundless desolation of their hearts. At last the song ceased, and a voice, too well known and loved, cried, "Elise! Elise!"
The maiden started up, shuddering and terrified. "His voice frightens me."
But still she seemed not to be able to withstand the call; for she approached the window, and looked down hesitatingly.