I beg of you----"

The Count roused himself like a lion who had been disturbed, and cried
in a voice that resounded hoarsely from the rafters of the arched roof,
startling the Countess with the unaccustomed fierceness of its tone:

"Yes, I will think of him--of my only son in the clutch of his bitter
foe, and I thank you for reminding me of him, little as I have for
these long years needed spur to my remembrance. Bring in the prisoner."

When Wilhelm was brought in, heavy manacles on his wrists, walking
between the men who guarded him, Elsa looked from judge to culprit, and
her heart leaped with joy. Surely such blindness could not strike this
whole concourse that some one within that hall would not see that, here
confronted, stood father and son, on the face of one a frown of anger,
on the face of the other a frown of defiance, expressions almost
identical, the only difference being the thirty years that divided
their ages. For a few moments the young man did not distinguish Elsa in
the throng, then a glad cry of recognition escaped him, and the cloud
cleared from his face as if a burst of sunshine had penetrated the
sombre-coloured windows and had thrown its illuminating halo around his
head. He spoke impetuously, leaning forward:

"Elsa, Elsa, how came you here?" then, a shadow of concern crossing his
countenance, "you are not a prisoner, I trust?"

"No, no, Wilhelm, I am here to beseech the clemency of the Count--"

"Not for me!" exclaimed the prisoner, defiantly, drawing himself up
proudly: "not for me, Elsa. You must never ask favour from a robber and