"Indeed?"
"It surprises me to have to assure you of it," replied Johannes, who began to divine that he had touched a sensitive spot in the countess's mind.
"Then I believe you. Now let me force upon you what can indeed have no value for you, but what people usually prize greatly,--money."
She opened a pocket-book, and counted out a number of bank-notes. "See, I have come to give you what I can for the little girl who was injured. Here are ten thousand roubles. I have no more ready money just at present. Do you think I may offer this to the people now?"
"You are very generous, countess, but it would be a greater kindness to these simple people not to put the whole sum into their hands at once. If I may advise you, just settle upon the little girl a small annuity for life,--that will preserve her from want,--since she must lose her arm, she will hardly be able to support herself. These people will not know what to do with so large a sum all at once."
"Do you invest it for them, then, in the way you think best. An annuity is out of the question: I might die, and then there would be difficulties thrown in the way of its payment. No. I have written to my agent in St. Petersburg for forty thousand roubles more. Then the child will be in possession of fifty thousand roubles, and can live upon this sum in Germany quite comfortably."
"Countess," cried Johannes, looking at her with unfeigned admiration, "do you know what you are doing? It is the gift of a monarch! I cannot, of course, judge of the proportion that this sum bears to your wealth, but it is my duty to warn you that it is far beyond what these people can possibly expect!"
"Heavens, what a talk about a trifle!" cried the countess impatiently. "I need only a little prudence for a couple of years, and the expenditure will be entirely covered. Even if I should have to deny myself now and then, what is it in comparison with the injury that my heedlessness has inflicted upon the poor child? I would give her more if I had not so many poor relatives whom I must not defraud."
"Such wealth in such hands, Countess Worronska, is a blessing to the poor. I see, for the first time, that this hand can do more than hold the reins and wield the whip, that it can open wide, and scatter with princely liberality what others would amass and hoard. Let me imprint upon it a kiss of fervent gratitude,--I have done you injustice."
"Oh, Möllner," cried the beautiful woman, flushed with delight, "I would give all that I possess, and all that I am, for one such grateful glance from your eyes! I know what the injustice is of which you speak. You have hitherto despised me, and now you see that there is something in me worthy of admiration. Yes, I have lived wildly,--I have not heeded the restraints imposed upon woman by man, because I did not respect mankind. Now, now I acknowledge them, because at last I have found a human being whom I respect from the depths of my soul, and to whom I would gratefully commit the guidance of my life. I can give what is better than a few thousand roubles. I am capable of the sacrifice of myself! If I thought it would win me your esteem, I would throw away whip and rein. My hand should know only the needle. I would never mount horse again,--never rush from place to place, sipping the froth of this world's delights. I would never stir from this spot, but lie here, clasping your knees, a penitential Magdalene. My wealth I would cast at your feet, and lay aside all splendour that might charm other eyes than yours. All that I have to give, so ardently desired by others, should be yours. I should think it an act of mercy if you deigned to accept my gift. I know how I transgress all law and custom when I, a woman, thus offer myself to him whom I love,--but what would be a departure from womanly delicacy and reserve in others, is for me a return thither. It is not for me to wait proudly for such a man as you to bring me his heart. I am sunk so low that in remorseful humiliation I must sue for esteem and love, try to deserve them by the penitence of a lifetime, and not murmur if they are withheld from me. I feel the disgrace of this; but, oh, if I can only through this disgrace recover my lost honour,--if I can only, by thus transgressing law, cease to be lawless! Believe me, it is no fleeting emotion that speaks through my lips,--it is the despairing effort of a stray soul to grasp the redeeming power of a true love!"