He had felt like a free man when Wroblewski left the castle, nor had he repented during the last few days. On the contrary, when he saw that his stammering promise, "Your wish shall be accomplished; the priest is coming!" was enough to revive the invalid; as he heard the repressed sobbing with which her overwrought mind was gaining its usual tone, and gazed into her face, which was beginning to smile again, he said to himself--it was good--that he had forced himself into it, and the subterfuge appeared a braver deed than the taking of his life. Neither of them referred to the past. Only once she said, "We will pardon our mutual sins against each other. You, that I would leave you; I, that you delayed so long to do me justice. But now we have to anticipate love, fidelity, and happiness as long as God gives us life. Ah! life is beautiful!" He bent over her hand, and covered it with kisses. He had discovered the least evil among so many that threatened, and he would spend his whole strength in making it of less consequence when once the hideous ceremony was over. The nearer the hour came the more afraid of it he became. He was like a schoolboy in the face of inevitable danger. He shut his eyes, that he might not see it. "Why should I see the man?" he said, when Wroblewski arrived one afternoon with the rogue, and wished to introduce him, that they might "talk over to-morrow's programme." The delay was painful. He supposed the creature had brought his costume, and Jan could light up the chapel immediately. Jan knew who was coming, and that he was to be the witness. The magistrate smiled. "The usual impetuosity of a lover! But the reverend gentleman must first baptize the child, and before the baptism he ought to instruct the mother for at least one hour in the doctrines of our holy church." The count drew back in horror. He was neither bigot nor atheist. He had simply never thought of religion at all. He believed in God, and kept the Catholic feast-days because he had been taught to do so, and it was the proper-thing for a Baranowski. Heretofore he had only thought of the affair as a crime against the state, not against Judith; much less had he thought of it as blasphemous. It was only now he saw it in this light. Well, it must be borne; the sacrament of marriage must be dishonored, but how about that of baptism? It was equally holy; yea, holier. He knew his catechism. "What baptism?" he exclaimed, finally, struggling to appear impassive. "Let her remain a Jewess." Wroblewski laughed out loud. "So she will, my dear count. But if we don't carry out this hocus-pocus first, she will not credit what comes after. She is a clever little girl, and knows very well that she must be baptized or the marriage is not valid. No sentimentality! And, since all is in working order, we had best hurry up affairs."