Just at that moment the door of the chamber occupied by the two sisters
opened, and Ernst Ortlieb, with tangled hair and pallid cheeks, came
toward her.

Within the room the dim light of the little lamp and the fiery glare of
the lightning illumined tear-stained, agitated faces.

After Heinz Schorlin had called to her, and Els had hurried to her aid,
Eva, clad in her long, plain night robe, and barefooted, just as she had
risen from her couch, followed the maid to her room. What must the
knight, who but yesterday, she knew, had looked up to her as to a saint,
think of her now?

She felt as if she were disgraced, stained with shame. Yet it was
through no fault of her own, and overwhelmed by the terrible conviction
that mysterious, supernatural powers, against which resistance was
hopeless, were playing a cruel game with her, she had felt as if the
stormy sea were tossing her in a rudderless boat on its angry surges.

Unable to seek consolation in prayer, as usual, she had given herself up
to dull despair, but only for a short time. Els had soon returned, and
the firm, quiet manner with which her prudent, helpful friend and sister
met her, and even tried to raise her drooping courage by a jest ere she
sent her to their mother's sick room, had fallen on her soul like
refreshing dew; not because Els promised to act for her--on the contrary,
what she intended to do roused her to resistance.

She had been far too guilty and oppressed to oppose her, yet indignation
concerning the sharp words which Els had uttered about the knight, and