consciously, upon the road that leads to prison, but that of one who
has won victory against great odds. She could not understand that
look.

And that was not so strange, for on the face of the old flute-player
the expression was like few this selfish old world ever sees--the
expression of complete self-abnegation, of absolute self-sacrifice for
pure and holy love.

"The ring, Herr Kreutzer!" Mrs. Vanderlyn exclaimed, in relief, sure,
now, for the first time, of the recovery of the precious trinket. "The
ring! She's given it to you!"

Herr Kreutzer laid the box upon the table and drew back with studied
calm to gaze at her reflectively, as is necessary to a man who, as he
stands and talks, must fashion from his fancy a cute fiction logical
enough and clear enough to save from overwhelming sorrow one whom he
loves better than he loves himself. "I tell you the whole truth," he
said, "on one condition. One condition, mind you, Madame--and that
condition must be kept. It is that she--my Anna--shall never be
disturbed, annoyed--"

The woman shook her head with emphasis. Self-righteous and indignant,
feeling that her confidence had been betrayed as well as her ring
stolen, she was determined not to let the guilty girl escape. "I
cannot promise that," she said with emphasis, "for she is guilty."

The German raised himself to his full height and stood there towering
over her, the very effigy of sublime fatherhood. "She is _not_
guilty!" he exclaimed. "No; it is I--I--I!"