iously in his
hand, a groan escaping from his white lips. Then he started off
accompanied by a few followers, and rode towards the Ardennes, never
stopping till he reached his own fort. A man stood on the balcony,
looking searchingly out into the distance, and seeing a cloud of dust
approaching in which a group of horsemen soon became visible, his eyes
gleamed triumphantly.

A stately knight advanced, his charger stamping threateningly on the
drawbridge. Golo, with hypocritical emotion stood before the count,
who had now alighted from his foaming horse, and informed him again of
what had happened. "Where is the evil-doer who has stained the honour
of my house, where is he, that I may crush his life out?" cried
Siegfried in a fury.

"My lord, I have punished the wretch deservedly and lashed him out of
the castle," answered Golo in a stern voice, sighing deeply.

The count made a sign to Golo whose false eyes gleamed with devilish
joy, to lead the way.

Siegfried entered the dungeon, followed by his servants and also by
those who had travelled with him. Genovefa listened breathlessly in
her prison, with a loved name trembling on her lips and a prayer to
God in her heart. Now the terrible trial would come to an end, now she
would leave this dungeon of disgrace triumphantly, and exchange the
crown of thorns for the victor's wreath.

The bolt was unfastened, firm steps and men's voices were heard, the
iron doors were dashed open. She snatched her slumbering child, the
pledge of their love, and held it towards her dear husband. His name
was on her lips, but before she could utter it, a cry of agony escaped
her. He had cast her from him and, his accusations falling like blows
from a hammer on her head, the poor innocent countess fell senseless
to the ground. The next day two servants led mother and child out into
the forest, where with their own hands, they were to kill her who had
been so unfaithful to her husband, and her child also. They were to
bring back two tongues to the count as a proof that they had obeyed
his orders.

The servants drove them into the wildest depths of the forest where
only the screams of birds of prey broke the silence. They drew their
knives. But the poor countess fell on her knees, and holding up her
little child, implored them to spare their lives, if not for her sake,
at least for the sake of the helpless child. Pity entered the two
men's hearts and withheld their hands. Dragging the moth