The eyes of the Count glowed with feverish brightness. I endeavored to prevail upon the Countess, as best I could by signs, to give him a grain of hope, that his growing agitation might be calmed; but she did not appear to see me.
"So," he cried in a voice choked with emotion, "you will see your father perish! A single word would save his life,—a word from your lips,—and you will not pronounce it."
"Life is not within the gift of man, but of God alone," she murmured; "a word from me could be of no avail."
"These are nothing but pious maxims," cried the Count bitterly, "to ease your conscience in refusing to do your duty! Has not God commanded, 'Honor thy father and thy mother'?"
"I do honor you, my father," she replied gently; "but it is my duty not to marry."
I could hear the Count grind his teeth. He lay for a few moments, apparently calm, then he suddenly sprang up.
"Out of my sight!" he screamed; "your presence is hideous to me!"
Then turning to me:
"Doctor," he cried with a savage smile, "have you a poison about you,—a poison that slays with the quickness of a lightning flash? It is only merciful to give it to me! Ah, God! If you knew how I suffer!"
His features worked convulsively; he became livid. Odile had risen and moved towards the door.