Agenor shook his head. "It is hard to reason with sentiment. My family pride, my name and race--that was the backbone of my life. It was taught me by my father, and I have clung to it with body and soul. I cannot live a cripple with a broken back. That is all!" "That is all," repeated Wroblewski, mechanically. He had delayed the suggestion of his plan, but it had to come at last. "Ahem! Listen, my dear friend; you can always have recourse to that. But if I--you mentioned just now that the doctor had produced an artificial sleep for to-night--if you could induce such a sleep for her soul, to last one, two, or three years, or as long as you liked? It would depend on yourself when she was to be wakened." "What do you mean?" "As I have said, it would depend on yourself. Of course you would not do it until you felt convinced she would take it more quietly than she has to-day. That will be sure to come with time. The first outburst over, she will remember her duties; there may be children to be cared for. Of course you would have to leave the country immediately." "What the devil do you mean?" "It has only just passed through my brain. I have only mentioned it out of friendship, but you can make your own decision. The poor devil will do it for you gladly, for he was saved by your aid, and will hold his tongue in his own interests." "Who?" "You remember the affair with your farmer, Afanasiewicz? Well, that Ignatius Tondka--" The count winced. He trembled in every limb. "Silence!" he shouted. "Pardon me. It was only a suggestion. But it is late." He looked at the clock. "Really, it is past midnight." "It would be criminal." "Yes, but murder and suicide are also not agreeable matters. Think of it until to-morrow. Good-night, my dear count," and without looking around he left the room, and was shown to his bedchamber. "To the devil with all this sentimentality!" he thought; and yet, though he was far from being sentimental, it was a good long time before he got to sleep. The sun was high in the heavens when he awoke. The clock indicated ten. He dressed quickly, and rang for the servant, who told him the count had inquired for him repeatedly. The doctor had left, and the invalid was still asleep. A few minutes after, and the magistrate stood before his host. Agenor looked ill and suddenly old. "I wish to expedite this affair as much as possible. When can the man be here?" "Have you considered it thoroughly?" "No hypocrisy! It fits your plans; you will be safe for life. You knew perfectly well that a drowning man would clutch at the blade of a sword. Your carriage is waiting. How much do you want, and when can the man be here?" Herr von Wroblewski could be laconic when occasion required. "Ten thousand gulden! To-morrow!" The count wrote a check, and handed it to the magistrate. He read it carefully, nodded, put it into his pocket, and left the room without bow or farewell word. CHAPTER VII.