Her parents regarded each other astonished, and, as she ceased, they still listened to the dying tones of her voice, which sounded so strangely to them. “She is much changed,” mumbled the general to himself. “She does not seem the same person, she is so haughty and majestic. She might well inspire fear.” The following day, as Marie entered the room, Ebenstreit was there. He approached her, extending both hands smiling, and greeting her with tender words, rejoicing at her recovery. She took no notice of his friendly demonstrations, but coldly and harshly regarded his smiling face, and particularly the broad, blood-red scar which ran from forehead to chin. Then suddenly her face lighted up, and an expression of savage triumph shot from her eyes. “How disfigured you look,” she cried exultingly. “Where did you get that scar?” “You know well, Marie,” he murmured, gloomily. “Yes,” she cried, triumphantly. “I know it. He branded you, and you will wear this mark before God and man as long as you live.” “You are very cruel to remind me of it, Marie,” he softly whispered. She laughed aloud so wild and savagely, that even her mother was startled. “Cruel--I cruel!” she cried. “Ah, sir, it becomes you indeed to accuse me of it!” Trude entered at this instant, pale and excited. “What is the matter?” “There is some one here who wishes to speak with you, Marie; he has something very important to tell you.” “How dare you announce any one without my permission?” cried Frau von Werrig. “Silence, mother!--if I may be allowed, let us hear who it is.--Speak, dear Trude, who is it?” “It is the Director Gedicke from the Gray Cloister,” said Trude, with quivering voice. Marie was startled--a glowing red overspread her cheeks, and she was obliged to lean against a chair for support. “I forbid you to receive him,” said her mother. She suddenly ceased, and stared at the door, which opened at that moment, the tall, dignified form of a venerable old man appearing. “Pardon me, sir,” said he, with a cold, reserved manner, “if I enter before I receive permission. The command of the king, to which I believe we all yield without resistance, empowers me to do so.” “How, sir, you come by the king’s order?” asked the general, who rose with difficulty. “Has his majesty given you a message for General von Leuthen?” “No, general, I come with a communication from his majesty to Fraulein von Leuthen, the betrothed of Herr Ebenstreit, and the order runs to deliver the same personally and without witnesses.” “Professor,” cried the mother, shrugging her shoulders, “you mistake us for very innocent people, if you suppose we believe this silly invention, and that you can gain a secret conversation by a ruse with our daughter. You are the director of the gymnasium, and naturally the friend of Conrector Moritz. In his name you will speak, and bring a secret message. Very sly, indeed, very sly, but it will not succeed.”