Was she dead? No; it must not, could not be. Sacrificed for him; that would mean adding original guilt to the sin he had inherited, and the idea of owing so much to such a degraded creature, was in the last degree humiliating. She must at least live till he had paid her. He tore open her chemise with a rough, eager hand, and laid his ear on the cool, rounded breast.
God be praised! Her heart was still beating. And as he raised her once more, she slowly opened her great eyes and looked round her vacantly. As if shocked at being caught holding her thus, he let her head slip out of his arms.
She moaned slightly as she sank back, for the swaying briars hurt her. Then regaining consciousness, she lifted herself on her elbow and gazed at him in dumb inquiry.
The sound of his voice made her tremble. She tried to struggle on to her feet, but fell back helplessly.
"Let me lie where I am," she begged, with a timid, imploring glance.
"Must I go?" she asked, evading the proffered support. Grief and anxiety were depicted on her blood-stained, beautiful face.
"But you'll have a bad time of it if you do."
"Oh, no, _Herr_. The _gnädiger Herr_ used to whip me every day. I am quite accustomed to it."
"But somewhere else they would treat you better."
"Somewhere else?" New consternation showed itself on her features.
"Good God! A woman like you, who is willing and hard-working, and has such strong limbs, is sure----"
She shook her head violently. "I shouldn't go far, _Herr_. If you hunt me away, I shall only lie down in a ditch and starve to death."
A softer look came into his eyes. No matter how bad, stupid, and corrupt she might be, she was the only human being in the wide world who clung to him. Why should he drive her from his threshold, when he himself was despised, ostracised, and a social outcast? Were they not both under the ban of the same misfortune?
The next few days proved how little he was in a position to live on his own estate without her services. He was far more dependent on her than she on him. Helpless as a shipwrecked mariner on a desert island, he stole about the ancestral grounds. Though the mines and wolfs'-traps no longer dogged his steps, finding his way among the chaos of smoked and tumbling walls made him giddy, and decay had altered everything so much, that the landmarks of his childish memories afforded him no assistance. Even the park, where once he had known every tree and bush, through long years of neglect, had become such a wilderness that at every step he nearly lost himself in it.