Siegwart looked on in surprise—now at his daughter, who was perplexed; now at the kneeling young man.
"For God's sake! Herr Frank, arise," said the confused Angela. She was about to leave the seat, but he caught her hand and gently replaced her.
"If I may approach so near to you, my present position is the proper one. Hear me! I have deeply offended you. I could with ease have saved a creature that was dear to you, and I did not do it. My conduct has brought tears to your eyes—hurt your feelings. When you went away to regain your composure, and to show your offender a serene, reconciled countenance, it made my fault more distressing. Forgive me; do not consider me hard and heartless, but see in me an unfortunate who forgets himself in musing."
She looked into Frank's handsome face as he knelt before her, in such sadness, lowering his eyes like a guilty boy, and smiled sweetly.
"I will forgive you, Herr Frank, on one condition."
"Only speak. I am prepared for any penance."
"The condition is, that you burn those godless books that make you doubt about the noblest things in man, and that you buy no more."
"I vow fulfilment, and assure you that the design of those books, which you rightly call godless, is recognized by me as a crime against the dignity of man—and condemned."
"This rejoices no one more than me," said she with a tremulous voice.
He stood up, bowed, and returned to his former place.