“I must; I shall go to the scaffold gladly for your sake; I should go to the altar with any other woman with horror and aversion. Say no more; you wound and distress me.”
She wept, and murmured: “He will die, oh, God, a death of infamy!”
The condemned man answered with a smile: “Believe me, Ethel, there is less dishonor in my death than in such a life as you propose.”
At this instant his eye, glancing away from his weeping Ethel, observed an old man in clerical dress standing in the shadow under the low, arched door. “What do you want?” said he, hastily.
“My lord, I came with the Countess d’Ahlefeld’s messenger. You did not see me, and I waited silently until you should notice me.”
In fact, Ordener had eyes for Ethel only; and she, at the sight of Ordener, had forgotten her companion.
“I am,” continued the old man, “the minister whose duty it is—”
“I understand,” said the young man; “I am ready.”
The minister advanced toward him.