"Pardon me, dearest," said the Count, tenderly; "pardon me for all I have made you suffer." But Hermengarde was already assured of Erwin's innocence before he had even spoken. "Count," she replied, "you need make no excuses; only tell me why I did not see you yesterday?" "I had no idea that you were at Cluny." "Then Antonio did not carry you my message?" "Most certainly not! You seem surprised, Hermengarde; but you do not know all. That villain Antonio was in a plot to separate us, and his measures were skilfully taken." "Fortune sometimes favors the wicked," said the noble girl. "But was the arrival of Richenza merely the result of chance?" "It may have been a part of the plot! I intended to return to Laon, and was taking my leave, when--" He suddenly paused, for the recollection of the scene in the garden seemed painfully depicted on Hermengarde's features. She sat down and gazed silently at her lover, whose attentions to the young Countess she had fancied meant more than was called for by the mere requirements of chivalrous courtesy. But it was impossible to cherish a suspicion of Erwin's loyalty after his frank and honest explanations. "Ah! Erwin," she said; "but that murder, that fearful crime!" "You could not have wished me to allow myself to be assassinated?" "No, oh! no. But after the combat I saw how your sword was covered with blood; I seem to see even now his wild glance and the blood streaming from the ghastly wound." And she hid her face in her hands as if to shut out the horrid vision. "Wretch that I am," said Erwin, "to have caused you this fright! But console yourself, dearest; with time, the painful impression will fade away. Would you make me regret having been the victor? The pious monks have pronounced me innocent; will you be more severe than they? Tell me, dearest Hermengarde; I will abide by your decree, however rigorous it may be." "I know you are guiltless, Erwin,--and yet this blood seems to rise up between us: it is a childish feeling, I know, but I cannot overcome it." The Count stood in pensive silence, for the monks even in his acquittal had uttered doubts of his complete innocence. And indeed, if he had gone directly to Laon, instead of waiting for Antonio, Pietro would not have met his death in the gardens of Cluny. His remorse was poignant. "The pious monks," he said, "have counselled me to make a pilgrimage to Palestine, to the sepulchre of our blessed Redeemer. It is for you, Hermengarde, to decide whether I shall submit to this penance." This singular question was entirely consistent with the manners of the times. Hermengarde reflected for a moment. "To-morrow," she said, "after having invoked together, the aid of Mary, the Mother of Sorrows, you shall know my decision." _CHAPTER XLVIII_. _THE TRIUMPH OF FORCE_.