seemed to understand the meaning of that distant voice, lost amidst the
passes and peaks of the Schwartzwald, and a kind of fearful joy gleamed
in his savage features.

At this moment, Sperver, unable or unwilling to restrain himself any
longer, cried in a voice broken with emotion--

"Count of Nideck--what are you doing?"

The count fell back thunderstruck. We rushed into the room to his help.
It was time. The third attack had commenced, and it was terrible to
witness!




CHAPTER IX.


The lord of Nideck was in a dying state.

What can science do in presence of the great mortal strife between
Death and Life? At the supreme hour, when the invisible wrestlers are
writhed together body to body and limb to limb, panting, each in turn
overthrowing and overthrown, what avails the healing art? One can but
watch, and tremble, and listen!

At times the struggle seems suspended--a truce has sounded; Life has
retired into her hold. She is resting; she is collecting the courage of
despair. But the relentless enemy beats at the gates; he bursts in; then