"What were you doing, Bach, opposite our house last night?"
One glance Friedemann darted from his flashing eyes into her own, but made no other answer.
"I saw you plainly," said Natalie, "as I stepped out on the balcony. You were leaning against the castle wall. Were you waiting for any one? Tell me."
The young man shivered with the violent emotion that shook his whole frame. After a pause, he said with forced calmness,
"You sent for me, most gracious countess, to honor me with your commands respecting the arrangement of a concert."
The countess turned angrily away.
"These are my thanks, proud man, for my trust, for my love. Out upon ingratitude!" she cried.
The young man flushed crimson at these reproachful words.
"What can I say?" he answered in a deep, hoarse voice, full of the wild agony he was vainly striving to repress. "Look at me, and enjoy your triumph! You have made me wretched. Leave me the only consolation that remains—the conviction that I suffer alone!"
"Friedemann," said the countess, shocked to see him thus, "compose yourself, I entreat you! Spare me!"