"You love me! I am happy.What matters the rest?"At this moment the door of the alcove opened and Count Kostia appeared upon the threshold, terrible, threatening, his lips curling with a sinister smile.At this sight his daughter slowly raised her head, then took a few steps towards him, and for the first time dared to look that father in the face, who for so many years had held her bowed and shuddering under his iron hand.Then like a young lion with bristling mane, her hair floating in disorder upon her shoulders, her body quivering, her brows contracted, with flashing eyes and in a thrilling voice, she cried:
"Ah! it really is you then, sir!
"You are welcome.You here, great God! Truly these walls ought to be surprised to see you.Yes, hear me, deaf old walls: the man you see there upon the threshold is my father! Ah, tell me, would you not have divined it by the tenderness in his face, by that smile full of goodness playing about his lips?" And then she added:
"Unnatural father, do you remember yet that you once had a daughter? Search well, you will find her, perhaps, at the bottom of your memory.Very well! this daughter whom you killed, has just left her coffin, and he who resuscitated her is the man before you." Then more excitedly still: "Oh, how I love him, this divine man! and in loving him, obedient daughter that I am, what have Idone but execute your will? for was it not you yourself who one day threw me at his feet? I have remained there."At these words, exhausted by the excess of her emotion, her strength deserted her.She uttered a cry, closed her eyes, and sank down.Gilbert, however, had already sprang towards her; he raised her in his arms and laid her inanimate form in an armchair;then placing himself before her, made a rampart of his body.When he turned his eyes upon the Count again, he could not repress a shudder, for he fancied he saw the somnambulist.The features of Kostia Petrovitch were distorted, his eyes bloodshot, and his fixed and burning pupils seemed almost starting from their sockets.He bent down slowly and picked up the knife, after which he remained some time motionless without giving any signs of life except by passing his tongue several times over his lips, as if to assuage the thirst for blood which consumed him.At last he advanced, his head erect, his arm holding the knife suspended in the air, ready to strike.As he drew near, Gilbert recovered all his composure, and in a clear, strong voice, cried out: