She conducted him into a passage, and closed the door behind them.
"The floor of my reception room is overlaid with the sick and suffering—my whole house is given up to them. Speak here; and if the news be bad, dear Count, it were mercy not to permit the unfortunates to hear you."
She was not thinking of herself. He took the hand extended to him, and kissed it—to him it was the hand of more than the most beautiful woman in the world—it was the hand of a saint in white transfigurement.
"Thy imperial kinsman, O Princess, is at the church partaking of the Holy Communion, and receiving absolution."
"At this hour? Why is he there, Count?"
Corti told her of the repast at the palace, and recounted the scene at parting.
"It looks like despair. Can it be the Emperor is making ready to die? Answer, and fear not for me. My life has been a long preparation. He believes the defence is lost—the captains believe so—and thou?"
"O Princess, it is terrible saying, but I too expect the judgment of God in the morning."
The hall was so dimly lighted he could not see her face; but the nerve of sympathy is fine—he felt she trembled. Only a moment—scarcely longer than taking a breath—then she answered:
"Judgment is for us all. It will find me here."