Two hours later he was able to announce the success of his mission. The report of the reconciliation spread through the town. Christians were annoyed, and Jews delighted; but both asked, "How much did it cost Nathaniel?" When Judith entered the sitting-room the next morning shortly before eleven, she heard, in spite of the closed blinds, a muffled noise in the street. There stood the inquisitive crowd, shoulder to shoulder. Turning pale, she stepped back. "Why are you astonished?" Nathaniel asked, smiling. "The sight to-day will be more wonderful than that of five days ago. It has many times happened that a new lord has entered the town, but never before that a Schlachzig has come to beg pardon of a Jewess. I would give a good deal if--" He stopped, for when he saw her before him, so pale, serious, and melancholy, his heart seemed bursting with pity, and the gentle reproof died on his lips. "My poor child!" he murmured. Perhaps it was the black woollen dress, unrelieved, contrary to her usual custom, by flowers or ornaments of any kind, but she seemed quite a different creature. The gay, beautiful child had suddenly developed into a staid woman with sad, wise eyes. Her form seemed more slender, and her features sharper. "Did you sleep last night?" he asked, stroking her pale cheek tenderly. "Certainly," she replied, nervously. She glanced at the clock. It was still five minutes to eleven. "Wanda was here just now," she continued. "Wiliszenski will give a recitation of his poems up-stairs to-morrow, and she invited me to attend, but I declined." "You were wrong. Prudence alone should have advised you to act differently. Not as one who has committed an unpardonable sin; you cannot become a nun all at once. To please--" "Father," she said, beseechingly. "If you only knew--" "I do know. But you will please accept, Judith." She was silent; it was a command, against which there was no appeal. A carriage stopped, and some "hurrahs" were heard outside. Judith's cheeks flushed purple. "It is the count," said Nathaniel. He hastened to meet the young man, and bowed his gray head as if welcoming a prince. "May God bless your entrance!" he said, pathetically, yet cordially. "May he reward your generosity. I cannot express myself in words, but--" "But, Herr Trachtenberg," Agenor said, remonstratingly. His glance rested on Judith, who stood near, pale and trembling. "I hope you, are not ill?" he cried. "No--" "I was afraid--the result of that excitement." She was embarrassed, and he felt awkward, very much because this pale girl was such a contrast to the vision which had been present to his imagination. Her father took her hand. "Are you not going to thank our most gracious count?" he asked. "Please excuse the child," he added--"the recollection of this most painful episode. She can generally find an answer."