Clara's eyes expressed her perfect approval of her mother's words; with a proud movement she turned her back upon Herr Balzer, and, suppressing her tears with a great effort, she looked out of one of the large panes of glass in the high window of the salon. Herr Balzer wrung his hands, as if in despair, and cried with well-acted emotion: "My God! countess, forgive me, if I thought only of my own sorrow and grief, only of myself and my wife, and did not consider that difficulty. I thought, too, you wished so much for this _parti_, which is so excellent, and I hoped you would act in concert with me to bring everything to a good end." "A Countess Frankenstein is not in a position to wish for a _parti_ unworthy of her, and one her heart cannot approve," said the countess, the cold calmness of her manner unchanged. "I believe, sir," she continued, bowing very slightly, "that it is scarcely necessary to continue this conversation." Herr Balzer wrung his hands, and cried in a tone of despair: "Oh, my God! my God! countess, what have I done! I now understand perfectly that your daughter, under the circumstances, cannot continue her engagement,--that I was foolish to hope to re-establish peace through your assistance. Oh, my God, I had better have remained silent!" The countess looked at him inquiringly. "Then," he continued, in the same tone, "everything might have gone on well; now, oh, God! all that is over! You will break off the engagement with Baron von Stielow, the whole world will hear of my misfortune, there will be a dreadful scandal in Vienna, and I shall have to separate from my wife. Ah! and I love my wife; I wish so to forgive her, to reclaim her,--and I shall love her for ever!" He paused for a moment, and cast a cunning look at the countess, whose features had assumed an expression of deep thought. Then he added still louder, and wringing his hands still more: "Oh! my gracious countess, have compassion on me. I came to you in perfect confidence to confide to you the frightful secret of my misfortune. I see you cannot help me, as I hoped; be merciful to me, and do not make it impossible for me to think of a way in which the worst may be averted. Keep my secret. Herr von Stielow in his rage and anger would revenge himself on me,--there would be nothing to restrain him,--then there would be a dreadful scandal; that may be a matter of indifference to you and your daughter, but to me and my wife--Oh! have compassion on me!" and he made a movement, as if about to throw himself at the feet of the countess. She still continued thoughtful. "Sir," she said, "it is certainly neither my wish, nor my daughter's, to discuss this disagreeable affair with Baron Stielow." Clara turned her head towards her mother, and thanked her with a look.