"And what will you do, now that you know the real interpretation? The very hour you become a Christian, the count is ready to marry you. That is the message I bring you." She lay back, her eyes shut, her mouth quivering, panting for breath. He rose. "You are unprepared. I will come for the answer to-morrow." She was silent. But as he looked at her he saw her face grow more fixed and set. Two large tears forced their way from under the closed eyelids and rolled down her cheeks, but her brows contracted, and she made reply by a shake of the head. "What is it? Do you decline?" "What else can I do? It is as if he would bring the dead to life. When I thought of the happiness it might have brought, had it been a voluntary action, tears came to my eyes. But when he does it from fear of the law--" "Have a talk with him and see how sincere is his repentance. Think, too, of your child, and you cannot say no. Is your boy to go through the world as heir of the Baranowskis or as a bastard? Pardon me, but that must be considered." She seemed to have forgotten that, for involuntarily her glance turned towards the cradle of her baby. Again tears filled her eyes. "I will not torture you more," said the doctor, taking up his hat; "but ask your conscience and then decide. I will come again to-morrow." And he left the room. "I believe you will have your 'yes' to-morrow," said the doctor to the count, as he reported the conversation, "and, both of you being young, all will yet end well." Agenor looked down moodily. "I hope you are not mistaken in thinking her love for her child outweighs her hatred for me." "I am sure of it. She is a Jewess, and what is there a Jewess would not do for her child? It is upon that I place my hope. For those things which would influence a meaner nature, such as prudence, personal advantage, rank, she will not for a moment take into consideration; and if she did, they would not move her." The doctor was much surprised when Miriam appeared the next morning, saying Judith begged he should not call, as, since she was allowed to go out, she was going to her father's grave. "That will excite her too much," he said. "Say I beg her to postpone it for some days." "She will not hear of it; nor do I think it will hurt her. It will injure her more if she wishes to go and is not allowed. If I had yielded to her entreaties I should have taken her there in a carriage long ago. She will not be kept back to-day. She did not sleep last night for excitement. I believe," said the old woman, as calmly as if she spoke of visiting some living friend--"I believe she has something to say to her father!" The doctor entered Judith's room next day with anxious forebodings, which were not diminished when he saw her face. It wore an expression of gloomy calm, which had become habitual during her convalescence. "That is not the face of one who wishes for reconciliation," he thought, and he had scarcely taken his seat before she began: