when I required him to unlock the door, but laughed
cunningly, thinking I was bound to some rendezvous. And so I wandered
on in fear and pain, in despair and anger, and it seemed to me as if the
road would never come to an end. At times I stopped, thinking I heard
behind me wild cries and curses, the stamping of horses, and the rolling
of wheels; but it was imagination. Ah! it was a frightful road; but it
is past. But now I will be strong, for this concerns my name, my life,
my honor. Why do you laugh, Rosa?" said he, angrily; "do you dare to
laugh, because I speak of my name--my honor?"

"I did not laugh," said Rosa, looking with terror at the disturbed
countenance of her lover.

"Yes, you laughed, and you were right to laugh, when I spoke of my
honor; I who have no honor; I who have shamed my name; I upon whose brow
is the sign of murder: for I am guilty of the ruin of a man, and the
chains on his hands are cursing my name."

"My God! He is mad," murmured Rosa.

"No, I am not mad," said he, with a heart-breaking smile. "I know all,
all! Were I mad, I would not be so unhappy. Were I unconscious, I would
suffer less. But, no, I remember all. I know how this evil commenced,
how it grew and poisoned my heart. The evil was my poverty, my
covetousness, and perhaps also my ambition. I was not content to
bear forever the chains of bondage; I wished to be free from want.
I determined it should no more be said that the sisters of Count
Weingarten had to earn their bread by their needlework, while he feasted
sumptuously at the royal table. This it was that caused my ruin.
These frightful words buzzed in my ears so long, that in my despair I
determined to stop them at any price, and so I committed my first crime,
and received a golden reward for my treason. My sisters did not work
now; I bought a small house for them, and gave them all that I received.
I shuddered at the sight of this money; I would keep none of it. I was
again the poor secretary Weingarten, but my family was not helpless;
they had nothing to fear."

To whom was he telling all this? Certainly not to that young girl
standing before him, pale and trembling. He had forgotten himself; he
had forgotten her whom in other days he had called his heart's darling.

As she sank at his feet and covered his hands with her tears, he rose
hastily from his seat; he now remembered that he was not alone.

"What have I said?" cried he, wildly. "Why do you weep?"

"I weep