ill not attempt to decide. But in the
present condition of affairs, I see but one means of salvation--to
restore her freedom. Misfortune is inevitable, if this state of things
continues--not the one you or the doctors fear: I've never seen a
clearer brain or more gloomy soul than the countess has. She'll not
lose her reason, but probably with entire deliberation go to
destruction."

"You mean, Doctor--she might--"

"I know that she has never particularly loved life, that she hates it
now, and that it will not require much to burst the overloaded vessel.
I shall leave this house early to-morrow morning, Herr Count. My
presence can avail nothing, prevent nothing. But once more I entreat
you to make a hasty, strong, and noble resolution, consent to a
separation, if you wish to preserve this precious life. This is the
only way of rescuing what still remains to be saved. Perhaps the future
will voluntarily restore what you can no longer hold by force."

The count had approached the window, and with folded arms was gazing
out into the night. Suddenly he turned, so that the candle light fell
full upon his deeply flushed face.

"I'm very grateful to you, Herr Doctor," he said with icy coldness,
"for having communicated to me your--of course humble--opinion. In
regard to what I ought to do or leave undone, you'll permit me to
consult my own wishes, and decline friendly suggestions with my best
thanks. For the rest, I regret that you have reasons for leaving my
house to-morrow, but as I cannot boast of so old a friendship with you
as the countess, it would be indiscreet to inquire into these motives
in order perhaps to set them aside. I wish you a pleasant journey. A
carriage will be ready to convey you to the railway station at any hour
you may desire. Once more accept my most sincere thanks for the delay I
have caused you, and if you should ever come into this neighborhood
again--" He bowed carelessly to Edwin, whose tongue seemed paralysed,
and with a calm smile and patronizing wave of the hand left the room.

"And this is the end!" burst from the oppressed heart of the man who
was left alone. He went to the table, took the note and tore it into
tiny fragments. A feeling of bitter sorrow, in which all thought of the
past and future were merged, overwhelmed him, his mind seemed to be in
a dull stupor, a heavyweight rested on his breast, which he tried to
throw off by long panting sighs; he took no note of time; not until t