"Do you fear a renewed theft? I give you my word of honour that the paper shall be returned to you uninjured." Slowly Gertrud drew it out and gave it to him; he opened it, the Praesidentin's eyes hung in breathless suspense on his features. No one spoke for some seconds, but the Count leaned more and more heavily on the table, his cheeks pale as death; with averted face he at last, without speaking a word, gave back the paper, threw himself into a chair, and covered his eyes with his hand. The Praesidentin knew enough. "Mademoiselle--" it was in vain that she endeavoured to make her voice firm, it trembled audibly--"Mademoiselle, you can, and will not, make any use of this document; it accuses the dead." Gertrud drew herself up scornfully; so soon as a third interfered, all her courage returned. "You think not, Frau Praesidentin? But the dead Count died as a highly respected, honourable man, and my father lies dishonoured and disgraced in the grave. Do you imagine that his daughter would refrain from avenging him?" "Do not build too many hopes on this paper; our tribunals cannot proceed against the dead, and as for the living--we are ready for any sacrifice, for any reparation within the bounds of possibility--" She stopped suddenly, even this energetic woman's eyes sank almost timidly before Gertrud's. "Take care, mademoiselle!" cried she, breaking out into anger, "take care not to drive us to do our utmost. The family of Count Arnau is still powerful and influential enough, and they will risk all, if it concerns their honour. Do not dare to let that paper out of your hands, else ruin might come upon yourself." An expression of unspeakable scorn curled Gertrud's lips. "I will wait and see if this mighty influential family succeed for the second time in defying justice. I will see if the law of the land will dare to refuse it to me when I come before them with this proof. Spare your words, Frau Praesidentin. What I had to fear was overcome before I came to you, now nothing more can intimidate me." She had spoken with cold, firm decision. If her features had seemed fixed before, now they seemed turned to stone; the only expression in them was a fearful determination. The Praesidentin saw that nothing more was to be gained here. She placed herself before the door, covering it with her body. "Now then, Hermann, you must guard your own and our honour! It must be!" Her eyes, even more than her words, challenged the Count to get possession of the fateful paper by force. Hermann had risen, he too seemed to have made a last decision, but with a wave of the hand, he dismissed his grandmother's proposal, and went up to Gertrud, who stood before him, still firm, and fearless. "Gertrud!" She shrank slightly, but did not alter her decided expression.