“Count Paul stopped him abruptly.
“‘Follow me,’ he said, ‘and let these others go to their work.’
“‘The horses are ready bridled in the stables, Herr Count.’
“‘There is no need of them—let the bridles be taken off.’
“I looked at Father Mark when this was said, and he returned my glance. The others went slowly out of the courtyard, glad to put distance between themselves and their master. The Count led the steward to his study, and lighted the lamps there. We could see him from our place in the quadrangle pacing the length of the apartment, with his sword clattering at his heels; we could watch the gestures of Hans, whose lips moved quickly, and whose emphasis was abundant. It was evident that Count Paul scarce spoke a word. Yet who could measure the sorrow of his silence?
“‘Look,’ whispered the priest, gripping my arm, ‘he is listening to the man’s tale, but he answers nothing. You heard him give the order to unbridle the horses. That means much, my friend.’
“‘Securo, Father,’ replied I, ‘what we know, he knows—that is plain. You spoke well when you said that we should put curbs upon our tongues.’
“‘I spoke as my faith taught me,’ he exclaimed; ‘yet God knows what it cost me to do so. He is not a man to forget; Madonna mia, he will remember always. And she had become very dear to him. I would give half my life if she could be a wife to him.’
“‘Aye, truly,’ said I, ‘that would have been a great day. And it may come yet—who knows? If there be a hunt still for the man she has gone with, is it not easy to lay hands upon him? A company of dragoons would catch him in three days!’
“The suggestion was new to him. He considered it for a moment, and then he said: