dare to disdain Countess Felsenburk—beautiful, charming Maria Felicia, to whom even the Emperor, the foremost man of his age, bowed? Did he dare to scorn a Countess to whom at court belonged the first place after the Archduchess? And who was this impudent darer? As he had said himself, the least in the lowest rank of her slaves, a descendant of executed traitors, a crazy heretic. He must be punished for his audacity; he must. The Countess must not keep him in her service, nor on her estates; she must discharge him—put him in the army for life. Even that would be a slight punishment for such a terrible, unheard-of crime; she must imprison him in one of the cellars of this castle, over which he claims to have more right than she, and leave him there five, ten years—yes, let him miserably perish and rot in the dungeon. No one can forbid her doing so; a mistress can punish her impudent servant as she pleases. She is his ruler, his judge; he is her property, with which she can do whatever she wishes, for which she is responsible to no
