"Indeed it was--and now I know what picture you mean. In Jerusalem, where the child was christened, a copy as they called it of the Infant Christ hung in the chapel over the baptismal font. The countess afterwards bought the picture on account of its resemblance to the boy."
"I suppose it resembles Herr Freyer, too?" the baron remarked carelessly.
"Somewhat, but the mother more!"
Baron Wildenau began to find the room too warm--and went to the window a moment to get the air, while his companion, horrified by these disclosures, shook his head. He would gladly have told the deluded woman that they had only learned the child's death from a wood-cutter whom they met in the forest--but he dared not "contradict" his cousin. After a pause, Wildenau again turned to Josepha. He saw that there was danger in delay, for at any moment the fever might increase to such a degree that she would begin to rave and no longer be capable of making a deposition: The truth must be discovered, now or never! He felt, however, that Josepha's was no base nature which could be led to betray her employer by ordinary means. Caution and reflection were necessary.
"I am really touched by your fidelity to my cousin. Any one who can claim such a nature is fortunate. I thank you in her name."
He held out his hand. But she replied with her usual blunt honesty: "I don't deserve your thanks, sir. I have not remained here for the sake of the countess, but on account of the child and my unfortunate cousin. She has been kind to me--but--if I should see her to-day, I would tell her openly that I would never forgive her treatment of the child and Joseph--no matter what she did. The child is dead and my cousin will die too. Thank Heaven, I shall not live to witness it."
"I understand you perfectly--oh, I know my cousin. And--my poor dear Fräulein Josepha--I may call you Fräulein now, may I not, since you are no longer obliged to pass for the child's mother?--it was an unprecedented sacrifice for you--! Alas! My dear Fräulein, you and your cousin must be prepared to fare still worse, to be entirely forgotten, for I can positively assure you that the countess is about to wed the Hereditary Prince of Metten-Barnheim."
"What?" Josepha shrieked loudly.
Wildenau watched her intently.
"She has just gone to Cannes, where the old duke is staying, and the announcement of the engagement is daily expected."