In vain the summons was repeated, for his eye met nothing but vacancy, and not a sound saluted his ear.
He walked to the bed, gazed with eagerness at the pillow which had sustained the head of the breathless Catharine, and then returned to the place where I sat.

I had no power to lift my eyes to his face: I was dubious of his purpose: this purpose might aim at my life.
Alas! nothing but subjection to danger, and exposure to temptation, can show us what we are.

By this test was I now tried, and found to be cowardly and rash.

Men can deliberately untie the thread of life, and of this I had deemed myself capable; yet now that I stood upon the brink of fate, that the knife of the sacrificer was aimed at my heart, I shuddered and betook myself to any means of escape, however monstrous.
Can I bear to think--can I endure to relate the outrage which my heart meditated?
Where were my means of safety?
Resistance was vain.

Not even the energy of despair could set me on a level with that strength which his terrific prompter had bestowed upon Wieland.