"Loathsome imaginings which sullied my heart and soul, and which I tried in vain to banish, foul suspicions of those whom I venerate most. I was free from them in your presence only, mother, and that is why I have come to you so often of late; these phantoms never dare to assail me when I am with you!"
The Countess arose and extinguished the candles; for a while there was silence.
"Mother," he said softly, and almost overpowered by sleep as he took her hand in his, "tell me what it is that rays out from your hallowed eyes, with power to chase all shadows from my soul?"
Again there was silence. For a few minutes she listened to his calm regular breathing. He had fallen asleep.
With hands folded in her lap, deadly pale, and with a look of horror in her eyes, she remained seated on the edge of the bed. The day had just dawned when she arose. Oswald half awoke and opened his eyes. "You here still, mamma? Oh what a delicious sleep I have had!"
"Sleep on, my child," she whispered, leaning over him and kissing his brow, before she left the room. She glided slowly along the corridor, her hand upon her heart. "Shall I have the strength," she murmured, "shall I have the strength?"
CHAPTER VII.
If he could only have got hold of these Lodrins,--if he could only have found an opportunity to speak with them, he could have humbled their pride before now, the Conte said to himself. He was still endeavouring to find some such opportunity; yesterday he had positively forced his friend the Baroness Melkweyser to drive over at last to Tornow to lay at the feet of the Countess Lodrin the antique set of china, albeit not in the name of the Conte Capriani, but of her humble servant, Doctor Alfred Stein. He was curious to hear what Zoë would have to tell, but after her return from Tornow Zoë had incontinently retired to her apartment with a violent headache, and the request that a cup of strong tea might be sent to her.
The headache lasted all through the next forenoon to the great vexation of the Conte, who was, moreover, in extreme bad humour. He was annoyed by a trifle, a perfectly absurd trifle, but it had sufficed to stir up all the gall in his nature. His maître d'hôtel had given him warning this morning, or, as that worthy expressed it, had handed in his resignation. When the Conte, who set great store by him, asked him his reason for so doing, and whether his salary was not sufficiently large, Monsieur Leloir, with the respectful air proper to the well-trained servant that he was, but with a distinctness that left nothing to be desired, replied that the salary corresponded to his wishes, and he had nothing to object to in the treatment that he had received, but--he felt too lonely, secluded,--"Monsieur le Comte voit trop peu de monde."
Two highly satisfactory messages, brought him shortly afterwards by the telegraph that connected his study at Schneeburg with the business world, did not suffice to drive this vexatious occurrence from his mind. He looked considerably sallower than usual when he appeared at lunch. All the rest were seated at table when the Baroness Melkweyser appeared. In her character of convalescent she wore a gorgeous, brocade dressing-gown upon which was portrayed a forest of gigantic sunflowers against an olive-green background. Otherwise she betrayed no indication of feeble health; her appetite was particularly reassuring.