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Updated: May 10, 2025
"I swear and vow," he cried, "that next Sunday I shall send to Gabriel Nietzel's lodging his Rebecca and her child, and that he shall find them there when he returns from the banquet. Are you content now, Master Gabriel Nietzel?" "I am content, Sir Count. Farewell! And God grant that we may never meet again on earth!"
Already a question was trembling on Gabriel Nietzel's lips. He wished to ask, "Can he by any possibility be saved?" But she had said, "Do not speak to me," and, obedient to his oath, he remained dumb, took up the trunk, and followed Rebecca, who had tenderly lifted the child from its crib and had just gone out of the door.
For long months he had caused search to be made for him, but nobody had been able to bring him any tidings of Gabriel Nietzel's whereabouts. So, gradually, he had forgotten him, and his anxiety about him had died away. Why must this dreaded name make itself heard again to-day, just to-day, when he was inaugurating the bright days of his future with this splendid feast?
I only wish to see them, in order to gain courage and strength for my difficult and dangerous undertaking." The count reflected for a moment, his eyes fastened upon Gabriel Nietzel's countenance, whose imploring, anxious expression seemed to touch him. "I have in my house at Spandow," he said, after a long pause, "a beautiful painting by Albrecht Dürer.
A crushing glance from his large gray eyes as he uttered these words fell full upon Gabriel Nietzel's pale and contrite face, making his heart quake with undefined dread. "Your honor is very angry with me?" he asked faintly. "You?" exclaimed the count in astonishment. "Why should I be angry with you? What have I to do with you?
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