Let her think of him as one who had vanished! Let her never learn that Baron von Moudenfels, the man who would be shot in a few hours, was the man whom she loved.

He would meet death calmly and joyfully, for he would leave her hope! Hope of a meeting--not yonder, but here on earth! She would expect him, she would watch for him daily in love and loyalty, and gradually, gently and easily, she would become accustomed to the thought of seeing him no more.

Yet, while doing so, she would not deem him faithless, would not suppose that he had abandoned her, but would know that it was destiny which severed them--that if he did not return to her, he had gone to the place whence there is no return.
"Oh, Leonore, dearly loved one! Never to see you again, never again to hear from your lips those sweet, sacred revelations of love; never again to look into your eyes, those eyes which shine more brightly than all the stars in heaven." It was already growing lighter.

Dawn was approaching.

Yonder, in the dark night sky a dull golden streak appeared, the harbinger of day.