The instinct of the cavalier was roused in the count. Drawing a pistol from the girdle of his fur cloak, he leaped out, when suddenly Judith, who as yet had sat still, staring rigidly at the mob, rose to her full height, so that the diamonds on her brow flashed like sunlight. "Away!" she cried to the mounted guards, so authoritatively that they instantly obeyed. "Away!" she said to Agenor, who stood in front of her. The mob were dumfounded. The fight ceased, and all became suddenly still. "What do you wish?" and her clear voice was like a silver trumpet. "Do you want to kill me? Here I am. No one shall protect me! No blood shall flow on my account. I have already enough on my soul. Come! I am ready." No one moved; no sound was heard until a voice said: "She has to fulfil the work of the Lord; and the count is doing his share. Do not interfere with the will of God." There was a murmur and a push, and the crowd gave way. The count sprang into the carriage, and Fedko drove towards the Trachtenberg house. In profound silence the count and Judith entered its door; and when they reappeared, a few minutes after, accompanied by Raphael, no voice was heard. The count shook his hand, and Judith embraced her brother. "To-day, at four, in the 'Good Place,'" she whispered. They re-entered the carriage, and again something unexpected transpired. Raphael seized her hand, and, with streaming eyes, covered it with kisses. The next instant some one shouted: "She has suffered much; let her be happy now." "Hurrah!" vociferated the crowd, with hundred-fold repetition. "Hurrah! Peace and joy go with her!" So they drove to the castle, but Judith no longer sat upright. Nearly fainting, she lay back, the tears streaming down her cheeks. The tenantry had assembled at the castle, and Dr. Reiser was there also. Judith inquired for old Miriam: "I will go to her as soon as I can leave the table." "Do so," said the doctor, "for she will not be visible to-morrow. She died two hours ago. Her servant came for me just as I was coming here, and I went to her for a moment. I never saw so happy a face." Dinner was served in the traditional wedding-dinner style of the Baranowskis, and on the same antique plate. But the feeling was not the same, and the guests left early. Judith drove with the doctor to the little house in Roskowska to take a last look at her old friend. They had not yet placed her in the coffin. She sat, in her Sabbath clothes, in her arm-chair. Speechlessly Judith gazed on the face, which wore an expression of pure, unalloyed happiness. "Do you know why Miriam smiled as she died?" asked Dr. Reiser. "She heard the guns which announced your approach;" and then he told Judith of their last conversation. "She died as a conqueror. She took it as an omen that her child had been forgiven, and that she would meet her soon in Paradise." Judith knelt and kissed the dead hand. "You are right," she said. "She was happy, dying as a victor."