Felicitas hesitated a little to test herself.... No it was no blind. She really meant what she was promising. "If in future I set my desires on vain pleasure, or nourish sinful wishes, so shalt Thou punish me through the dearest I possess. Thou shalt shame me in the sight of all men." "Thou shalt shame me in the sight of all men," repeated Felicitas, and looked timidly round her. "The child Thou hast given me shall die," was whispered in her ear. A cold shiver ran along her spine, and then she repeated even this. "And I shall be his murderess." Felicitas was silent and trembled. "Well ... why do you hesitate?" "Johanna, it is so awful, what you want me to say." "It is, but only thus can I be sure of you. Say it or not. You have your choice." "And ... I ... shall ... be ... his ... murderess." "Right, now say Amen." "Amen." Then she sank with her forehead on the edge of the desk. She glanced at her fingers, which had relaxed their grasp on the feet of the Crucified, as if she expected there must be traces on them of the blood which Johanna saw streaming from the wounds. It seemed to her as if she had sworn away her life, as if with those last words the sun had gone down, never to rise again. Then she slowly raised herself. The next moment, she felt Johanna's arms round her, and the feverish lips, struggling against repulsion pressed to her own. She returned the pressure mechanically, thinking with a shudder-- "And this too is a kiss." Johanna seized her hand. "Now you can return to your place which you have occupied as undisputed mistress till to-day," said she. "You also shall have your way, and may count me your friend from henceforth; and now, let us go over to them. Ulrich must know that we are reconciled." "And Leo too," thought Felicitas, smoothing out the folds of her dress which were crumpled from kneeling. As she walked into the open air by Johanna's side and saw the sun shining, in spite of all that had happened, greenish-gold through the leaves, she took comfort for the first time. The new position of affairs seemed already more familiar. "The oath may do good," she said to herself. "It will, at least keep me from doing silly things."