Olga had remained in her room because she could not bring herself to meet Treurenberg again. No, she could never meet him after the words, the kiss, they had exchanged,--never--until he should call her. For it did not occur to her to recall what she had said to him,--she was ready for everything for his sake. Not a thought did she bestow upon the disgrace that would attach to her in the eyes of the world. What did she care what people said or thought of her? But he,--what if she had disgraced herself in his eyes by the confession of her love? The thought tortured her.

She kept saying to herself, "He was shocked at me; I wounded his sense of delicacy. Oh, my God! and yet I could not see him suffer so,--I could not!"

When night came on she lay dressed upon her bed for hours, now and then rising to pace the room to and fro. At last she fell asleep. She was roused by hearing a door creak. She listened: it was the door of Lato's room. Again she listened. No, she must have been mistaken; it was folly to suppose that Lato would think of leaving the house at a little after three in the morning! She tried to be calm, and began to undress, when suddenly a horrible suspicion assailed her; her teeth chattered, the heart in her breast felt like lead.

"I must have been mistaken," she decided. But she could not be at rest. She went out into the corridor; all there was still. The dawn was changing from gray to white. She glided down the staircase to the door of Lato's room, where she kneeled and listened at the key-hole. She could surely hear him breathe, she thought. But how could she hear it when her own pulses were throbbing so loudly in her heart, in her temples, in her ears?

She listened with all her might: nothing, nothing could she hear. Her head sank against the door, which was ajar and yielded. She sprang up and, half dead with shame, was about to flee, when she paused. If he were in his room would not the creaking of the door upon its hinges have roused him? Again she turned and peered into the room.

At the first glance she perceived that it was empty, and that the bed had not been slept in.

With her heart throbbing as if to break, she rushed up to her room, longing to scream aloud, to rouse the household with "He has gone! he has gone! Search for him! save him!"

But how is this possible? How can she confess that she has been in his room? Her cheeks burn; half fainting in her misery, she throws wide her window to admit the fresh morning air.

What is that? A scratching at the house door below, and then a melancholy whine. Olga hurries out into the corridor again, and at first cannot tell whence the noise proceeds. It grows louder and more persistent, an impatient scratching and knocking at the door leading out into the park. She hastens down the stairs and opens it.

"Lion!" she exclaims, as the dog leaps upon her, then crouches before her on the gravel, gazes piteously into her face, and utters a long howl, hoarse and ominous. Olga stoops down to him. Good God! what is this? His shoulder, his paws are stained with blood. The girl's heart seems to stand still. The dog seizes her dress as if to drag her away; releases it, runs leaping into the park, turns and looks at her. Shall she follow him?

Yes, she follows him, trembling, panting, through the park, through the village, out upon the highway, where the trees are vocal with the shrill twittering of birds. A clumsy peasant-cart is jolting along the road; the sleepy carter rubs his eyes and gazes after the strange figure with dishevelled hair and disordered dress, hastening towards the forest.

She has reached it at last. The dog's uneasiness increases, and he disappears among the trees. Olga stops; she cannot go on. The dog howls more loudly, and slowly, holding by the trees, she totters forward. What is it that makes the ground here so slippery? Blood? There,--there by the poacher's grave, at the foot of the rude wooden cross, she finds him.

A shriek, wild and hoarse, rings through the air. The leaves quiver and rustle with the flight of the startled birds among their branches. The heavens are filled with wailing, and the earth seems to rock beneath the girl's feet.

Then darkness receives her, and she forgets the horror of it all in unconsciousness.