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CHAPTER XV.

THE RIVALS.

Elise, immediately on reaching her room, hurried to the window and looked into the street, already darkened by the shades of evening.  She was not mistaken—­a carriage stood at the door; but to her surprise, she did not perceive the signal agreed on, she did not hear the post-horn blow the Russian air, “Lovely Minka, I must leave thee.”  Nor was it the appointed hour; neither did her chambermaid, who waited in the lower story, come to seek her.  She still stood at the window, and involuntarily she felt herself worried by this equipage.  A sharp knocking at the door was heard.  Before she had time to come to any determination, it was hastily opened, and Bertram entered with a lady, deeply veiled, on his arm.

“Bertram!” cried Elise, drawing back shyly.  “What do you wish here?”

“What do I wish here?” answered Bertram, earnestly.  “I come to ask a favor of my sister.  I have promised this lady that she shall see and speak with you.  Will my sister fulfil her brother’s promise?”

“What does the lady wish with me?” asked Elise, casting a timid look toward the mysterious veiled figure.

“She will herself tell you.  She requested me, with tears, to bring her to Elise Gotzkowsky, for, she assured me, the happiness of her life depended on it.”

Elise felt an icy shudder run through her.  She laid her hand on her heart, as if to protect it against the terrible danger which she felt threatened her, and with trembling lip she repeated, “What does the lady wish with me?”

Bertram did not answer her, but letting go the arm of the unknown, he bowed low.  “Countess,” said he, “this is Mademoiselle Elise Gotzkowsky.  I have fulfilled my promise:  allow me now to leave you, and may God impart convincing power to your words!”

He greeted the ladies respectfully, and left the room quickly.  The two ladies were now alone together.  A pause ensued.  Both trembled, and neither ventured to break the silence.

“You desired to speak to me,” said Elise, finally, in a low, languid voice.  “May I now beg of you—­”

The lady threw back her veil, and allowed Elise to see a handsome countenance, moistened with tears.  “It is I who have to beg,” said she, with a touching foreign accent, while seizing Elise’s hand, she pressed it warmly to her breast.  “Forgive me; since I have seen you, I have forgotten what I had to say.  At sight of you, all my words, and even my anger have left me.  You are very beautiful.  Be as noble as you are beautiful.  My fate lies in your hands.  You can restore me to happiness.”

“God alone can do that,” said Elise, solemnly.

“At this moment you are the divinity who has the disposal of my fate.  You alone can restore me to happiness, for you have deprived me of it—­yes, you, so young, so handsome, and apparently so innocent.  You are the murderess of my happiness.”  Her eyes sparkled, and a bright blush suffused her hitherto pale cheeks.  “Yes,” cried she, with a triumphant laugh, “now I am myself again.  My hesitation has vanished, and anger is again supreme.  I am once more the lioness, and ready to defend the happiness of my life.”