And she contemplated the crucifix hanging over the praying-stool with great hungry eyes. Felicitas cringed. She had begun to be afraid. It seemed to be true what people said, that Johanna's fanaticism had driven her out of her mind. When the latter saw her shiver, she broke into a laugh. "You are frightened," she said. "I can well believe it.... No lies, no mask have any avail with the naked, bleeding One.... Come, give me your hand." The imperious command met with no resistance. Felicitas, half-fearful, half-curious, drew nearer and felt her hand seized by one as if in fever. "Why do you tremble?" asked Johanna. "You ought to be glad, for now I am in your power, as much as you are in mine. You are afraid to meet the eyes of the Crucified, but look well. Do you know who has eyes like those?" "No," said Felicitas. "And you pretend to love him! Oh, you dissembler! Now, listen, either your mind is pure and clear as gold, like the blood that flows from those wounds, and I have been deceived in you; or it is an abysmal sink of iniquity beyond my capacity to measure in this life." "The truth is about halfway between the two," thought Felicitas. "But we will leave that. If you desire that our enmity shall be over from this hour, you will not refuse to take the oath I require of you." "It won't be so awful," thought Felicitas, and with downcast eyes she replied-- "I am not afraid of any oath." "Then kneel down." "Why, where?" asked Felicitas, nervously. "Here, on my stool." "Very well, even that I will do," said Felicitas, and knelt as she was bidden, carefully drawing aside her festive skirts as she did so. "Place your hands on the Saviour's feet." Felicitas dared not refuse. When the tips of her fingers came in contact with the cold marble, she cowered and shivered. She felt as if an icy stream ran over her from those white feet, which threatened to freeze the blood in her veins, but she held out bravely. And then in a low, slightly tremulous voice, she repeated the words Johanna dictated to her, like a confirmation candidate kneeling in white muslin at the altar, stammering forth her confession of faith. "I swear to Thee, merciful Lord, I confess and protest in Thy name, that I am filled with penitence for my sin, and shall be penitent till my life's end." "If nothing further occurs," she thought meanwhile. "I will cherish no other thought, no other wish than to repent what has happened. Ulrich's happiness and honour shall be my expiation, and my only object in life till he dies." "Amen," added Felicitas, with a sigh of relief, and was going to get up hastily, but Johanna held her down on the stool. "We haven't done yet," she said, and laughed between her clenched teeth. Felicitas thought, "I don't care," and prepared herself to repeat further what was poured into her ear in broken whispers mingled with hot gasping waves of breath. "If my heart is not pure, if I take this oath, as a blind. ..."