Mabuse saw her gesture, and the blood mounted to his forehead. He was flushed with passionate desire, and could no longer bear to see the glances of others rest upon her ... other strangers address her ... the lips of other men pressed to her hand ... or the thought that any other will should impose itself on her. His was the call of blood that should reach her, and inflamed with passion and desire, he left the house and drove home. All his thoughts were centred on her, however, and as he rapidly increased the distance between them, and as it were tore the bleeding flesh from his body, he called out to the image which filled the yearning gulf within him, “Death and desire! death and desire!” At home he drank until all around him had dissolved in the mists of intoxication, and he no longer saw anything but her heart, her bleeding heart, snatched by his hand from her lovely body, held in his grasp, enticing and inflaming his passion. * * * * * At length came the day when Countess Told should enter upon her prison experiences. She repaired to Wenk’s chambers, and he took her to the building, making the governor _au courant_ of the whole story. Before being led to the cell, she asked, “How long am I to stay there?” “As long as you like, Countess,” replied Wenk. “It all depends upon your skill, but of course you have but to say the word and you are free in an instant, even if you have not achieved your object.” “I have plenty of time,” she answered, “but I should like to ask for leave next Monday, so that I can keep an appointment.” “Most certainly, we can easily arrange that. With your permission, I will come and fetch you. Besides, you are sure to have something to report by then!” “Finally, Dr. Wenk,” said the Countess, “I want you to know that my husband is in the secret, and you will go and see him, won’t you? Promise me!” Wenk assented. A warder took possession of the Countess, and as she went with him she smiled back at Wenk. “Good luck!” cried he, ere she vanished along the corridor. * * * * * The Countess had left the Privy Councillor’s house in a strange tumult of feeling. The stranger who had so impressed her had suddenly disappeared, but his forceful personality had left its mark, and she could not free herself of it. This mysterious and compelling power of his effaced the image of Wenk, and the latter receded into the background. When the door of the cell opened before her, it seemed as if the time she had to spend in this narrow space, this strange, cold chamber, so far removed from the world, would be a period of probation, a time of testing for herself.