"That is sad; but better for them that the husband and father should be dead, than know him to be in prison. Don't make such a trouble of it, Ottilie, this is not the first time that an untrue servant has anticipated justice in this way. And if he possessed any character at all, scarcely anything else would have been open to him after the unavoidable discovery." The Countess sighed; she apparently had not philosophy enough to throw aside the dreadful event which had happened almost before her eyes, so easily as her mother, who now asked--"Where is Adalbert?" "I have not seen him since. He is himself undertaking the seizure and examination of the steward's papers; I expect he is still occupied with them." "And Hermann? Why does not he come as usual to see me?" Before the Countess could answer, the folding doors opened which communicated with the next room, and a boy, about eight years old, appeared. The little Count Arnau was a strong, but rather unattractive child, who bore little or no resemblance to his mother, though a very striking one to his grandmother. It was the same cast of face, the same high, broad forehead, the same clear, sharp glance, and round the small mouth were already forming the first lines of that energy and decision which made the grandmother's countenance so repellant and so striking. Was the boy always as pale as this? or had he, too, been influenced by the terrible event of this morning, the news of which had spread through the whole house? In any case, he did not run merrily to his grandmother, but went slowly towards her--almost shyly, and without speaking, put his arm round her neck. "Why, Hermann," asked she severely, "you were in the ante-room, and did not come in? What does that mean? How long have you been accustomed to listening behind the curtains?" The grave, but not severely-meant reproof, had a strange effect upon the boy. He shrank back at the last words, and a sudden flush dyed his formerly pale cheek; at the same time his eyes rested upon his grandmother with such an expression of anxious pain, that she involuntarily softened her tone, and asked, "But what is the matter, child? Have you become shy and timid all at once?" "The poor child is still frightened," said the Countess, intercedingly. "I suddenly found him at my side in the study, so that he, too, like myself, must have witnessed the terrible scene. Wasn't it so, Hermann--you heard the report in papa's room, and hurried after me?" The boy did not answer; he hid his face on the grandmother's shoulder, and she felt how his whole body trembled in her arms. But the Praesidentin was not the woman to suffer any display of feeling in her grandson, she lifted up his head in rather ungentle fashion.