"I can supply the testimony he refuses to give, mighty lord," said Count Frederick of Leiningen, in a grave tone. "It is with deep regret that I place in your Majesty's hands these papers, taken by me when we stormed the castle of Eppenfeld. I have looked over them, and have held them until now, in the hope that one who was a companion of my boyhood would show some signs of repentance for deeds so black as those disclosed this night; but now I am bound to give them up, that justice may be done. You will there see the price given, or offered, for the death of Ferdinand of Ehrenstein and his mother, and will find full proof of the truth of all that good Franz Creussen has advanced." The Count of Ehrenstein folded his arms upon his chest, and raised his head haughtily. "All are against me here," he said, in a stern and bitter tone. "My lord the Emperor, I did not come here prepared for these charges. False and groundless I pronounce them to be; and false and groundless I will prove them; but I still require time to call my own evidence, and to send for some who are now at a distance, but who can show that this accusation has been devised to ruin me; that those papers are fabricated; and that this Baron of Eppenfeld has long threatened me with disclosing the pretended treachery on my part against my brother's widow, sometimes affirming, sometimes denying--ay, even in writing--that his charge was true. Here is one present,--this very reverend priest, the chaplain of Count Ferdinand,--who has seen his denial of all these charges; nay, more, who even saw him sign it, and read it over to him." "Ha! ha! ha! my friend, the knave!" cried the Baron of Eppenfeld. "Say you so?--say you so? What, these are all lies of my invention, are they? 'Tis good--'tis mighty good. But now, remember, I spare you no more. I was quite ready to do you a good turn, and die--if needs must be--without speaking; but now you turn so ungratefully upon me, all the truth shall out." "You see, my mighty lord," said the Count, turning to the Emperor, "that he is moved by every breath of passion, and not by the simple voice of truth. Let the priest speak. Did he, or did he not, my reverend friend, sign a paper, denying all these charges to be true, after having heard every word written therein read clearly over to him?" "Even so," answered the priest, in a deliberate tone; "he heard the paper read, and made some marks meant for his name, though the orthography was aught but good; and at the same time he told me, by way of protest, that he signed to save his life, which you had threatened to take, by secret means, in prison to gain a chance of liberty, which you had promised, and to obtain a certain sum of money, which was to be added, to send him on his way."