Bars of rosy twilight from the west fell on the snowy plain. The hazel-wood, as they walked towards it, deepened in colour from brown to violet, and the crows were on the ground again, sitting in black clumps amidst the scanty undergrowth, their beaks uplifted to the sky. Now and then there sounded from the road the sharp, sudden jingle of a bell, when the waiting horses stamped a hoof or moved a head. Leo's heart beat. He felt that in the next few minutes their fate must be decided. "Listen, Felicitas," he began; "things are in a bad way with us." "What has happened?" she stammered, standing still, full of dismay, in the sleigh ruts. "Nothing has happened yet. But we must part before something does." She began to lament. "I knew you would desert me--I felt sure of it. But I won't let you. I will stay with you. I can't live without you." And she clung passionately to his arm, as if she feared he might, that minute, be snatched from her. As he saw her face blanch, and her eyes raised to his in beseeching fear, he abandoned all thoughts of flight. He felt that responsibility for this trembling fellow-sinner was yet another burden added to his already sorely weighted soul. She buried both hands in his fur, and held him fast as if she would never let him go. Had he walked on, he would have had to drag her after him along the ground. "Then all I can do is to put a bullet through my brain," he murmured, looking beyond her. She gave a sharp cry. "Have mercy on me," she implored. "Don't frighten me so. What have I done that you should frighten me so?" "You have done nothing, Felicitas," he answered. "But Johanna is going to speak." There was silence. The gentle breeze stole over the snow plains and whispered in the hedgerows. The crows had changed their squatting attitude, and were circling above the pair, with lazily flapping wings, while the more distant ones were preparing to fly. Felicitas slowly loosened her grasp, and passed her hand three times dreamily over her forehead. She glanced searchingly to right and left, as though she suspected the avenger might be crouching in the ditch. "Come into the wood," she said; "no one will see us there." And without waiting for his consent she plunged sideways over the deep snow, furrowed here and there by the footprints of wild creatures. She did not dare to stop, till she had reached the protection of the thin branches of the underwood. He followed her with deliberate steps, and he, too, felt relieved when the shrubs hid them from view. "She _shall_ not speak," exclaimed Felicitas, clasping her hands. "I pray you, dearest, to prevent it. You must put a seal on her lips; promise that you will." He laughed gloomily. "There is one means by which I might prevent her," he said; "and if she insists, I could resort to it." But again he felt disgust at the idea which he had before entertained for a moment, and then rejected as monstrous.