"Madeleine"--he spoke calmly and firmly--"everything must now be clearly understood between us. What connection was there between Wildenau and that mysterious boy? I must know, for I see that that is the quarter whence the danger which you fear is threatening you, and I must know how to avert it--you have just heard that your honor is mine.' There was a shade of sternness in his tone, the sternness of an resolve to take this weak, wavering woman under his protection.
"The child"--she faltered, trembling from head to foot--"ah, no--there is nothing more to be feared from him--he is dead!"
"Dead?" asked the duke gently. "Since when?"
"Since yesterday!" And the proud countess, sobbing uncontrollably, sank upon his breast.
A long silence followed.
The duke passed his arm around her and let her weep her fill. "My poor Madeleine--I understand everything." An indescribable emotion filled the hearts of both. Not another word was exchanged.
The carriage rolled up to the entrance of the Wildenau palace. Her little cold hands clasped his beseechingly.
"Do not desert me!" she whispered hurriedly.
"Less than ever!" he replied gravely and firmly.
"Her Highness is ill!" he said to the servants who came hurrying out and helped the tottering woman up the steps. She entered the boudoir, where the duke himself removed her cloak. It was a singular sight--the haughty figure in full evening dress, adorned with jewels, in the light of the dawning day--like some beautiful spirit of the night, left behind by her companions who had fled from the first sunbeams, and now stood terrified, vainly striving to conceal herself in darkness. "Poor wandering sprite, where is the home your tearful eyes are seeking?" said the prince, overwhelmed by pity as he saw the grief-worn face. "Yes, Madeleine, you are too beautiful for the broad glare of day. Such visions suit the veil of evening--the magical lustre of drawing-rooms! By day one feels as if the night had been robbed of an elf, who having lost her wings by the morning light was compelled to stay among common mortals." Carried away by an outburst of feeling, he approached her with open arms. A strange conflict of emotion was seething in her breast. She had longed for him, as for the culture she had despised--she felt that she could not live without him, that without him she could not exorcise the spirits she had conjured up to destroy her, her ear listened with rapture to the expression of love in cultured language, but when he strove to approach her--it seemed as if that unapproachable something which had cried "Noli me tangere!" had established its throne in her own heart since she had knelt among the beggars early that morning, and now, in spite of herself, cried in its solemn dignity from her lips the "Noli me tangere" to another.