"I have come in person," he said, "to communicate the result of my mission. I have only partially succeeded. Sir Knight. But the Emperor has respited you for to-day." The prisoner was not for an instant deceived by the mild form under which the Abbot veiled his failure. But the childish sentiments of Hermengarde did not take in at once the dread truth. "Holy Father," said she, "your vague words alarm me. I implore you, tell me clearly if the Emperor has pardoned my father?" The prelate looked sadly at the young girl. "At first the Emperor positively refused to listen to my prayers for mercy; however, by my persistent supplications I have attained a satisfactory result." "Ah! only for to-day!" "We may feel perfectly easy, dear child. To-day not a hair of your father's head will be harmed!" "But to-morrow!--Great God! what may happen tomorrow?" she cried, with anguish. "Trust in God, my child," said the monk; "he alone is master of the future." "Oh! unhappy creature that I am.--You hesitate to tell me the fearful truth!--You dread my tears!--Do you not see, dearest Father, that my eyes are dry?--that I am calm and resigned?--For God's sake, speak to me!" cried Hermengarde. "This uncertainty is worse than death! I am strong enough to bear anything but that,--we have no time to lose in idle tears now. The few short hours that are left us must be spent in trying to avert to-morrow's fearful doom!" Hermengarde spoke earnestly, and her touching distress suggested a last hope to the good Abbot. "Your pleadings may soften the Emperor, my child," he said. "I will gladly use my influence to get you to his presence.--You may be more successful than I." "You have failed! Then, indeed, all hope is lost," she cried, despairingly. "Calm yourself, my child," said Guido, "all is not lost yet." "Oh! I am calm, my Father; my mind is entirely composed.--Reverend Sir, take me at once, I beseech you, to the Emperor!" And with wonderful stoicism she began her preparations; for though her heart was wellnigh breaking within her, she had summoned all her courage for this one last effort. "Pietro," said she, after a moment's hesitation, "will you not come with me?" "Pardon me, noble lady, if I cannot accede to your request; the sight of the tyrant has always been insupportable to me.--What will it be now, when I behold you a suppliant at his feet?" "Ah! Pietro, do not refuse me the support of your arm!" "Fear not, my daughter," said the Abbot; "I will not leave you for an instant. This young man appears too much excited, and we must act with the greatest calmness!" Hermengarde seized the prelate's hand, and they immediately left the tower.