"I go as your enemy; but I will not do so secretly behind your back. You asked me yesterday if a secret lay between us--you shall know it now." "I know it already!" "How?" "An hour ago I learnt your real name, and with it the reason for your hatred to me." She looked up at him as before, but now with the greatest horror. "That is impossible, you cannot! You cannot know anything--anything, except that it was the name of a deceiver, who took his own life, when he found his crime discovered. That is what you have been told, is it not? Or--did you know _more_?" Hermann made no answer, his eyes sought the ground darkly. "Answer me, Count Arnau! If any one on earth has a right to ask, I have. What do you know?" "All!" In his blunt, broken tone, lay the whole dashed down power of his nature in one word; the girl stood for a moment as if struck by lightning. "You knew it, and were silent!" "It was my _father_, Gertrud!" She suddenly drew herself up with almost fierce energy. "You are right, Count Arnau, it was your father--and it was mine! I shall not forget that." A heavy, oppressive pause followed. At last Hermann raised his head again. "We have reached a point now where nothing more can be kept silent or spared. Will you tell me _who_ has revealed the secret?" Since the confession of the Count a strange change had passed over Gertrud. The anxiety, the conflict which had hitherto been betrayed in her manner, had given place to an unnatural calm; her glance, which had avoided his so timidly, looked at him full and threateningly, and her voice sounded firm and clear as she replied-- "My mother initiated me into the matter so soon as I was old enough to understand it. She had no proofs to make good her rights, nothing but the invincible conviction of her heart. My father did not dare to make public the suspicion he had held for some time against his powerful and influential superior; he mentioned it only to his wife on the morning of the fateful day, and therefore she only was capable of guessing at the truth. She knew that her husband was no cheat, that he was only the sacrifice of a crime; of an already planned, treacherous a assassination--" "No, Gertrud, no, he was not that!" burst in Hermann. "A crime of the moment, a deed of despair, but no plan. I know it--I was witness of it!" "Ah--you were a witness!" The Count's eyes took a rapid survey of the room; it had only one entrance, and that, he knew, was well guarded; nevertheless his voice sank to a whisper as if he did not dare to trust the secret even to dead walls.