'But what are your reasons?'
'I am the girl's father, and do not choose to give my consent; if that is not a sufficient reason, fancy any one you please. Cast a glance at your genealogy, and see how well a woodman's daughter would look among such a noble assemblage. Doves may not mate with eagles--that is my opinion. Breathe not a single word about love to Giuliana, Herr Count; not a single whisper. Promise me this, upon your honour, or you shall never see her again.'
'Well,' replied Otto, 'for the present I cannot escape giving you the promise you require; but you must, and shall, withdraw your unreasonable objections.'
'Never, as long as I live. Nothing can make me alter my decision while I have life; and when I am dead, perhaps you will change your mind yourself.'
After this conversation, Otto determined, as soon as possible, to tear himself away from the vicinity of the beautiful Giuliana, that he might not be tempted to break the promise her singular father had wrung from him; but he also resolved, in the course of a very few years--under, he hoped, more propitious circumstances--to return, and seek future happiness in a marriage with the beautiful girl, to whom, he now felt convinced, his whole soul was bound by the most delightful and indissoluble of chains, and from whom, he thought, that only an absurd and obstinate whim was the cause of his present needless separation. He had not, as yet, said a single syllable to Giuliana of his feelings for her; but she had not failed to read them in his amorous glances, and perceived them in the warm interest he took in her, and in his pleasure at the congeniality of their minds and tastes. That she seemed to find new life in his society, that he had made a deep impression on her heart, and that her sentiments were an echo of his, were evident to him also; he saw that a word, a breath from his lips, of love, would develop the sweet feeling of affection, which she scarcely understood herself, and cause the opening rosebud to burst into the full-blown charming flower. If that word were not to be spoken, Otto knew that he must fly from the lovely girl. But he was angry at himself for not having resisted the opposition he had encountered from selfish tyranny, and for having bound himself by a promise, which he could not break without creating disunion and unhappiness in a family circle; a proceeding from which he shrank, even though he believed that despotic and unjust authority was exercised on one side. He determined, however, once more to endeavour to make Franz yield to his wishes; and while waiting for an opportunity of doing this, an event occurred which materially changed the face of affairs.
The celebrated painter, Carl van Mander, who was invited by Christian IV. from the Netherlands, to improve the arts in Denmark, resided for some time at Soröe, where he painted an altar-piece for the church. He was an ardent lover and studier of nature, and was anxious always to give truthful design and colouring to his pictures. This caused him often to introduce real portraits into his historical or Scripture pieces, and whenever he beheld a striking countenance he hastened to make a sketch of it, which he afterwards worked up to suit different subjects.
Thus the countenance of Italian Franz had often almost terrified him when he met him accidentally in the woods, and on one occasion he had seized an opportunity of sketching him while they were both sitting, among other chance visitors, in a little tavern to which the painter sometimes resorted for the purpose of seeing a variety of faces. Without considering that there might be any harm in so doing, the painter transferred the likeness of Franz to his altar-piece for the church of Soröe. The artist had gone, and the picture was put up in its proper place in church. Everyone, from far and near, hastened to see it, and Carl van Mander's 'Last Supper' was pronounced a masterpiece.
Italian Franz seldom attended church; he liked the doctrine of absolution, and the rites of the Roman Catholic Church, which he had joined in Italy; and there being none within reach of his residence, he had fitted up an oratory in his own house. When he felt indisposed, or his gloomy fits came on, he often lamented that no Catholic priest was near to give him absolution, or to administer extreme unction to him when he should be at the point of death. At such periods of excited feelings he would lock himself into his oratory, and, as he had no priest to whom to make his shrift, he would write his confessions in secret, with injunctions that the document should not be opened until after his death. He had often thought of taking a journey to the capital to see a priest, but had always put it off, and sometimes he seemed to forget altogether that he had anything to confess.
Franz had acquired in Italy a taste for the arts--he had become fond of paintings; therefore, when he heard that the new altar-piece was finished and hung up in the church, he felt a wish to see it, and agreed to accompany Count Otto to the morning service one Sunday. They entered just as the clergyman was finishing his sermon. He had been endeavouring to awaken to a sense of their sins the souls around him; and with fervent eloquence was likening those careless Christians, who heard the Word but did not obey it--who acknowledged Christ with their lips, but denied him in their actions--to Judas Iscariot, who, with a kiss, betrayed his kind Lord and Master.
Franz started at these last words. At that very moment his eyes fell on the altar-piece, in which he instantly beheld his own likeness in the face of Judas Iscariot, who sat like a traitor amidst the holy group.