The voice expired upon her lips, for Otto stood before her.
Arnold precipitated himself from the window, carrying the ring with him. Otto, glaring at his faithless mistress, stood in the middle of the apartment with his sword unsheathed. Was he about to use it? None can say; for at this moment the young Baron burst into the room, and, without the slightest apology for the liberty he was taking, passed his sword through Otto’s body.
Otto groaned, and fell upon his face. He was dead. The young Baron ungently reversed the position of the corpse, and scanned its features with evident surprise and dissatisfaction.
“It is not Arnold, after all!” he muttered. “Who would have thought it?”
“Thou seest, brother, how unjust were thy suspicions,” observed Aurelia, with an air of injured but not implacable virtue. “As for this abominable ravisher——” Her feelings forbade her to proceed.
The brother looked mystified. There was something beyond his comprehension in the affair; yet he could not but acknowledge that Otto was the person who had rushed by him as he lay in wait upon the stairs. He finally determined that it was best to say nothing about the matter: a resolution the easier of performance as he was not wont to be lavish of his words at any time. He wiped his sword on his sister’s curtains, and was about to withdraw, when Aurelia again spoke:
“Ere thou departest, brother, have the goodness to ring the bell, and desire the menials to remove this carrion from my apartment.”
The young Baron sulkily complied, and retreated growling to his chamber.
The attendants carried Otto’s body forth. To the honour of her sex be it recorded, that before this was done Aurelia vouchsafed one glance to the corpse of her old lover. Her eye fell on the brazen ring. “And he has actually worn it all this time!” thought she.
“Would have outraged my daughter, would he?” said the old Baron, when the transaction was reported to him. “Let him be buried in a concatenation accordingly.”