priest, who desired to remain to pray with him and receive his confession,
to leave him.

"What I have to confess, only God must know," he said, smiling proudly. "In
our corrupt times even the secrets of the confessional are no longer
sacred, and if I confessed the truth to you, it would mean the betrayal of
my friends. God sees my heart; He knows its secrets and will have mercy on
me. I wish to be alone, that is the last favor I request."

So he was left alone--alone during this long bitter night before his doom!
Yet he was not solitary! His thoughts were with him, and his love--his love
for Leonore!

Never had he so ardently worshipped her as on this night of anguish. Never
had he recalled with such rapture her beauty, her indescribable charm, as
on this night when, with the deepest yearning of his heart, he took leave
of her. Ah, how often, how often, carried away by the fervor of his
feelings, he had stretched out his arms to the empty air, whispering her
dear, beloved name, and not ashamed of the tears which streamed from his
eyes. He had sacrificed his life to hate, to his native land, but his last
thoughts, his last greetings, might now be given to the woman whom he
loved. All his desires turned to her. Oh, to see her once more! What
rapture thrilled him at the thought! And he knew that she would come if he
sent to her; she would have the daring courage to visit his prison to bring
him her last love-greeting. He need only call the jailer and say to him:

"Hasten to Baroness de Simonie in Schottengasse. Tell her that I beg her
to come here; tell her that I must die and wish to bid her farewell. She is
my betrothed bride; she has a right to take leave of me."