"How shall I thank you, count?" cried Countess Frankenstein, with great emotion. "Thank God, countess," he replied. "But," he added in the easy tone of general conversation, "I reckon upon your discretion, you must not betray me to the doctors." He gave instructions about the further treatment of the wound, and a remedy to be used in his absence, he again administered a medicine, and left the house promising to return in a few hours. With rapid footsteps he hastened to Madame Balzer's house; his face assumed a grave and severe expression as he ascended the steps leading to the young lady's apartments. In the salon he found the Abbé Rosti awaiting him. The young priest sat opposite the _chaise-longue_ of the mistress of the house, who was conversing gaily with him, dressed in a charming pale blue morning toilette. The abbé rose as the count entered, and the young lady welcomed him with a graceful smile as she offered him her hand. "We have expected you for some time," she said. "The poor abbé has been wearied with his efforts to continue a conversation with me," she added in a roguish tone. "Where were you?" "I have been preventing the completion of a great crime," replied the count gloomily, fixing his eyes firmly upon the lady's face. She trembled involuntarily beneath his gaze. "A crime?" she asked, "and where was it committed?" "It was committed," said the count quietly, without removing his eyes, "it was committed upon a pure and noble creature whom a ruthless hand had destined to a horrible death, upon the Countess Clara Frankenstein." Madame Balzer stood stiff and motionless. A deep pallor spread over her face, her lips trembled, her eyes sank before the firm and immovable gaze of the count. Her breast heaved, she tried to speak; but only a broken hissing breath came from her lips. "Abbé", said the count raising his hand and pointing to her, "you see this woman now standing before you, who was talking to you with smiling lips, whose eyes seemed to reflect the feelings of a good and noble heart--this woman is a murderess, who with cold cruelty has poisoned the warm pure blood of an innocent human being, a being who never harmed her except that she possessed the love of a young man, for whom this woman felt a wicked passion. God willed it otherwise," he added, "and gave me the power of saving this victim of her wickedness!" Amazed, horrified, the abbé listened to the count's words; he looked enquiringly at the beautiful and elegant woman against whom such a frightful accusation was brought. She had pressed her hand upon her breast, as if to calm its powerful emotion. Her eyes were raised at the count's last word with an expression of fear, and raging hatred; but she could not bear his gaze, and her eyes fell again to the ground.