"Then we sat silent for a long time. The candles in front of the mirror had burned low, and flickering they struggled for existence; and the clock on the console ticked restlessly. I longed to beg the girl beside me: 'Anna Maria, confide in me; it is not yet too late! See, I know now that you love Stürmer—since to-day I am sure of it. Anna Maria, it is not yet too late!' But how could I do it? She had never given me the slightest right, never allowed me to share in what moved her heart. Oh, that she would come of her own accord, then, and speak, that she might know how much easier it is for two to bear a burden.
"I pressed her hand, beseechingly. 'Anna Maria, my dear child!' I whispered. Then she roused herself as out of a confused dream, and pushed the hair from her forehead.
"'Susanna?' she asked; 'Susanna got off with a fright. I led her over to the castle myself, and Stürmer's old servant carried Isa; they are safe. As soon as the old woman can be moved I shall have her brought here, of course; to-day it was impossible. The excitement might be bad for Susanna, too, for such a passionate outburst of grief I never dreamed of. She loves the old creature more than I ever mistrusted, and her cry: "Isa, Isa, if you die I have no one else in the world!" was repeated till she broke down from exhaustion.'
"I listened as if stunned. 'Anna Maria,' I said, 'I must go over to-morrow.'
"She nodded. 'If it is possible—for I should be glad to avoid it."
"'It must be possible, Anna Maria. Go and rest, we are both tired; sleep well.'
"Wall, there I lay, and no sleep came to my eyes. Klaus and Susanna, Anna Maria and Stürmer, revolved in wildest confusion in my brain. I started up out of my dozing, for I thought I heard Susanna's voice: 'Isa, Isa, if you die I have no one else in the world!' And I dreamed that I cried in anger to her: 'Ungrateful one, have you not more than a thousand others—have you not the heart of the best and truest of men?' And I awoke again with a cry, for I had seen Stürmer hurry into the burning house, and seen it fall on him; and Anna Maria stood by, pale and calm, with disordered locks of fair hair over her white forehead; her eyes looked fixedly and gloomily on that ruin, but she could neither weep nor speak."
CHAPTER XII.
"It was a fearful night! I was almost astonished to see the bright sunshine streaming in my window, and the blue sky, the next morning. Brockelmann helped me dress, for my shoulder was still painful.