'There are those who will know how to avenge me.'
He laughed again. 'I do not know them, Countess,' he said contemptuously. 'For Hesse Cassel, he has his hands full at Nuremberg, and will be likely, when Wallenstein has done with him, to need help himself. The King of Sweden--the brightest morning ends soonest in rain--and he will end at Nuremberg. Bernhard of Weimar, Leuchtenstein, all the fanatics fall with him. Only the banner of the Free Companies stands and waves ever the wider. Be advised,' he continued grimly. 'Bend, Countess, or I have the means to break you.'
'Never!' she said.
'So you say now,' he answered slowly. 'You will not say so in five minutes. If you care nothing for yourself, have a care for your friends.'
'You said I had none,' she retorted hoarsely.
'None that can help you,' he replied; 'some that you can help.'
She started and looked at him wildly, her lips apart, her eyes wide with hope, fear, expectation. What did he mean? What could he mean by this new turn? Ha!
She had her face towards the window, and dark as the room was growing--outside the light was failing fast--he read the thought in her eyes, and nodded.
'The Waldgrave?' he said lightly. 'Yes, he is alive, Countess, at present; and your steward also.'
'They are prisoners?' she whispered, her cheeks grown white.