That silenced my lady, and she sat rolling her kerchief in her hands. Against the five impassive faces that confronted her, the ten inscrutable eyes that watched her; above all, against this strange, this inexplicable denial, she could do nothing! At last--
'Will you hear my steward?' she asked--in despair, I think.
'Certainly,' the Burgomaster answered. 'We wish to do so.'
On that I told them all I knew; in what terms I had heard Neumann and General Tzerclas refer to the Waldgrave; how unexpected had been his appearance in the hall; how this interference had saved my life; and, finally, my own conviction that he was not privy to Tzerclas' designs.
The Court heard me with attention; the Burgomaster put a few questions, and I answered them. Then, afraid to stop--for their faces showed no relenting--I began to repeat what I had said before. But now the Court remained silent; I stumbled, stammered, finally sank into silence myself. The air of the place froze me; I seemed to be talking to statues.
The Countess was the first to break the spell. 'Well?' she cried, her voice tremulous, yet defiant.
The Burgomaster consulted his colleagues, and for the first time something of animation appeared in their faces. But it lasted an instant only. Then the others sat back in their chairs, and he turned to my lady.
'We are obliged to your excellency,' he said gravely and formally. 'And to your servant. But the Court sees no reason to change its decision.'
'And that is?' The Countess's voice was husky. She knew what was coming.
'That both prisoners suffer together.'