"That all! What more could there be? I admit that it is unspeakably painful for you to know that your honor and your deepest secrets are in such hands--but how long will it be ere, if it please God, you will be in a position which will remove you from it all, and I--!"
"Duke--Good Heavens!--It is far worse," cried the countess, wringing her hands: "Oh, merciful God--at last, at last, it must be told. You do not know all, the worst--I had not courage to tell you--are you aware of the purport of my late husband's will?"
"Certainly--it runs that you must restore the property, of which he makes you sole heiress, to the cousins, if you marry again. What of that--do you suppose I ever thought of your millions?" He laughed gayly: "I flatter myself that my finances will not permit you to feel the withdrawal of your present income when you are my wife."
"Omnipotent Father!--You do not understand me! This is the moment I have always dreaded--oh, had I only been truthful. Duke, forgive me, pity me, I am the most miserable creature under the sun. I shall not be your wife, but a beggar--for I am married, and the Wildenaus know it through Josepha!"
There are moments when it seems as if the whole world was silent--as if the stars paused in their courses to listen, and we hear nothing save the pulsing of the blood in our ears. It is long ere we perceive any other sound. This was the case with the duke. For a long time he seemed to himself both deaf and blind. Then he heard the low hissing of the gas jets, then heavy breathing, and at last the earth began to turn on its axis again and things resumed their natural relations.
Yet his energetic nature did not need much time to recover its poise. One glance at the hopeless, drooping woman showed him that this was not the hour to think of himself--that he never had more serious duties to perform than to-day. Now he perceived for the first time that he had unconsciously retreated from her half the length of the room.
She held out her hand imploringly, and with the swiftness of thought he was once more at her side, clasping it in his own. "I have concealed this, deceived your great, noble love--for years--because I perceived that you were as necessary to my life as reason and science and all the other gifts I once undervalued. I did not venture to reveal the secret, lest I should lose you. The moment has come--you will leave me, for you must now make another choice--but do not be angry, grant me the one consolation of parting without rancor."
"We have not yet gone so far. I told you ten minutes ago that the accidents of temperament and circumstance may divide us, but cannot rob you of what was created for me, we do not part so quickly.--You have not deceived me, for you have never told me that you loved me or would become my wife, and your bearing was blameless. Your husband might have witnessed every moment of our intercourse. Believe me, the slightest coquetry, the smallest concession in my favor at your husband's expense would find in me the sternest possible judge. But though an unhappy wife, you were a loyal one--to that I can bear witness. If I yielded to illusions, it is no fault of yours--who can expect a nature so delicately strung as yours to make an executioner of the heart of her best friend? Those are violent measures which would not accord with the sweet weakness, which renders you at once so guilty and so excusable."
The countess hid her face as if overwhelmed by remorse and shame.
"Do not let us lose our composure and trust to me to care for you still, for your present position requires the utmost caution and prudence. But now, Madeleine--you have no further pretext for not telling me the whole truth! Now I must know all to be able to act. Will you answer my questions?"