Again she stood in timid reverence, with a glowing heart, while before her hovered the pierced, bleeding hand--Heaven and earth turned upon the question whether she dared venture to press her lips upon the stigma; she did venture, almost swooning from the flood of her feelings--and lo, in the kiss the quivering lips felt the throbbing of the warm awakening life in the hand of the stern "God," and a feeling of exultation stirred within her, "You belong to me! I will steal you from the whole human race." And now, scarcely nine years later--must the joy vanish, the God disappear, the faith die? What a miserable, variable creature is man!
"Dinner is served, and Baron St. Génois has called--shall I prepare another place?"
The countess started from her reverie--had she been asleep where she stood? Where was she?
The lackey was obliged to repeat the announcement and the question. A visitor now? She would rather die--yet Baron St. Génois was an intimate friend, he could come to dinner whenever he pleased--he was not to be sent away.
She nodded assent to the servant. Her emotions were repressed and scattered, her throbbing heart sank feebly back to its usual pulsation--pallid despair whispered: "Give up the struggle--you cannot be saved!"
A few minutes after the little party were celebrating in the brilliantly lighted dining-room in sparkling sack the "event of the day," the appointment of the new mistress of ceremonies.
[CHAPTER XXII.]
FALLING STARS
"The new mistress of ceremonies isn't popular."
"Countess Wildenau is said to have fallen into disgrace already; she did not ride in the queen's carriage at the recent great parade."