"God help me! God be with me!" she calls out aloud and flies to the door, bursts it open, rushes through, and—his weight presses against it; she can not shut it, she can not draw the bolt. He is there with her in that little room, which has no other outlet. No deliverer is near! She falls upon her knees, and lifts up her arms to him imploringly. "Oh, sir! oh, sir, pity! Do not kill me! I will be silent as the grave!"
"As the grave!" repeats he, with a savage smile.
He stoops down and something bright glitters in his hand! She sees it quite clearly, for it is a bright summer night, and her eyes are inured to darkness.
"Almighty God, you would murder me! Mercy, sir, mercy!"
He has closed the door behind them, yet the shriek of her death agony has penetrated the door and echoed down the corridor. Nobody hears it. All the chambers in this upper story are bare and uninhabited, and for economy's sake the corridors and staircases in this upper part of the castle are unlighted. To-day, however, at nightfall, the Stadtholder had himself brought word to castellan Culwin that every passage, landing, and staircase in the whole castle should be lighted! And so it was, and even in that remote upper story lamps are burning. How long and solitary this corridor is! Not the slightest sound has broken the stillness since those two sprang into that room.
But now! A fearful, piercing shriek! A death cry forces its way through the door and in one long echo vibrates along the corridor. It sounds like the wailing and moaning of invisible spirits. Then nothing more interrupts the silence. Nothing more!
The door opens again, and Count Schwarzenberg steps into the corridor.
He is alone.
He locks the door and puts the key into his pocket. Then, with quiet, firm tread, he goes down the corridor, down the little staircase, and finally, with composed, haughty bearing, down the great staircase into the guardroom.
"God be praised, your excellency, that you are here!" calls out Lehndorf, hastening to meet him.