An hour passed slowly; the music floated in from the ball-room; but at last it ceased; there was a bustle of departing guests, servants ran to and fro in the house, and the rattle of carriages told Lucie that the ball was at an end. Another half-hour went by; the house grew quieter, the bustle entirely subsided; there were steps in the passage, and Heinrich von Guntram's voice said, "Good-night, Adele. Shall I light your candle for you?" "Oh, no; there are matches on the table Good-night, Heinrich." "Good-night." The door opened. Adele entered, bolted it behind her, and then, going to the table in front of the sofa, lighted a match, by the flickering light of which she distinguished a dark figure sitting on the sofa. She gasped with terror and ran towards the door, but was instantly arrested in her flight by the gentle tones of a familiar voice, whispering, "Don't be frightened, dearest Adele; it is I,--Lucie!" "You--you here at this hour?" "I need your help, Adele. In my extremest misery I seek refuge with you, my dearest friend." In an instant Adele's arms were about her, and the tenderest assurances of sympathy and aid were poured into her friend's ear. Then she drew the curtains close and lighted the candles, before seating herself beside Lucie and entreating her to tell her all. Lucie complied; she told her of her wretched past with her worthless husband, and of the incidents of the last few hours, remaining perfectly calm amid the storm of indignation with which her friend greeted her narrative. Anger was dead within her, slain by the thorough contempt she now felt for Sorr. "And now, dear Adele," she concluded, "I come to claim your aid. Your last words to me this evening when I left the ball-room were, 'Trust in me; whatever happens, I will stand by you.' This has given me courage to take this decided step to break the fetters that bound me to one so unworthy. I knew I should not be quite alone, that you would not desert me, and therefore I come to you." "Never, Lucie dear, never; and not only I,--there is another whose aid will be of more use to you than that of a poor weak girl. My cousin Karl told me every detail of the miserable scene in Heinrich's room; he suspected you would soon need protection and assistance, and is ready to give it to you. You may trust him; he is a noble, true-hearted man, and has promised me to befriend you at your need. Be sure he will keep his promise. He will advise us what is best to be done." "I do not need any advice," Lucie gravely rejoined; "my resolution is taken, my plans for the future are arranged. I need the help of faithful friends only in their execution. I shall be grateful for Count Styrum's help; but later, when I am no longer here." "What do you propose to do?"