old sacred, by yourself and by my
father's head, I will set Hiram free within three days, unbeaten and
unhurt, and magnificently indemnified; and I will myself help him on the
way whither he may desire to go, or you to send him, in search of your
father.--Be silent; remain neutral in the background; that is all I ask,
and I will keep my word--that, at any rate, you do not doubt?" She had
listened to him with bated breath; she pitied him deeply as he stood
there, a suppliant in bitter anguish of soul, a criminal who still could
not understand that he was one, and who relied on the confidence that,
only yesterday, he still had had the right to exact from all the world.
He appeared before her like a fine proud tree struck by lightning, whose
riven trunk, trembling to its fall, must be crushed to the earth by the
first storm, unless the gardener props it up. She longed to be able to
forget all he had brought upon her and to grasp his hand in friendly
consolation; but her deeply aggrieved pride helped her to preserve the
cold and repellent manner she had so far succeeded in assuming.

With much hesitation and reserve she consented to be silent as long as he
kept his promise. It was for his father's sake, rather than his own, that
she would so far become his accomplice: at the same time everything else
was at an end between them, and she should bless the hour which might see
her severed from him and his for ever.

The end of her speech was in a strangely hard and repellent tone; she
felt she must adopt it to disguise how deeply she was touched by his
unhappiness and by the extinction of the sunshine in him which had once
warmed her own heart too with bliss. To him it seemed that an icy rigor
breathed in her words--bitter contempt and hostile revulsion. He had some
difficulty in keeping himself from breaking out again in violent wrath.
He was almost sorry that he had trusted her with his secret and begged
her for mercy, instead of leaving things to run their course, and if it
had come to the worst, dragging her to perdition with him. Sooner would
he forfeit honor and peace than humble himself again before this pitiless
and cold-hearted foe. At this moment he really hated her, and only wished
it were possible to fight her, to break her pride, to see her vanquished
and crying for quarter at his feet. It was with a great effort--with
tingling cheeks and constrained utterance that he said:

"Severance from you is indeed best for