At the castle on the Rhine, sorrow was a constant guest since this
terrible event had happened. Siegfried's burning anger had sunk into
sorrow, and often when he was wandering restlessly through the rooms
so rich in sweet memories, where now a deserted stillness reigned, the
agony awoke again in his heart. He now repented of his hastiness, and
a voice whispered in his ear that he had been too severe in his cruel
punishment, that he had condemned too quickly, and that he should have
considered what he could have done to mitigate her punishment.
When these haunting voices pursued him, he would hurry away from the
castle and its loneliness, not being able to bear the torment of his
thoughts. Then to forget his trouble, he would follow the chase with
the yelping hounds. But he only seldom succeeded in dulling his
misery. Everywhere he seemed to see the pale face of a woman looking
imploringly at him.
The state of his master's soul had not escaped Golo, and this crafty
man cringed the more to the sorrowful count, feigning to care for his
welfare. A starving person accepts even the bread which a beggar-man
offers, and Siegfried, supposing his steward wished to compensate him
for his loss, accepted willingly every proof of devotion, and
recompensed him with his favour, at the same time hating the man in
his inmost soul who had rendered him such a terrible service.
One day the count rode out to the chase, accompanied by only a few
retainers, one of whom was Golo. Siegfried pressed deeper than was his
custom into the forest. A milkwhite doe sprang up before him and
sportsmanlike, he chased this singular animal through the bushes,
hoping to shoot it. His spear had just grazed it, when it disappeared
suddenly into a cavern. A woman whose ragged garments scarcely covered
her nakedness, leading a little boy by the hand, suddenly came out of
the opening in the rock, and the doe, seeking protection, rubbed
herself against her. She looked at the hunter, but her limbs trembled
so that she could scarcely stand, only her large sad eyes gazed
wistfully at him. A stifled cry, half triumphant, half a groan,
escaped from her lips, and she threw herself at the count's feet. From
the voice which for long months had only moved in earnest prayer or in
low sweet words to the child, now flowed solemn protestations of her
innocence. Her words burned like fire into the soul of the count, and
drawing her to his breast, he kissed her tears, and then sank at her
feet imploring her pardon.
He pressed his little boy to his heart, overcome with gratitude and
happiness, and wept with joy, calling him by a thousand affectionate
names.
Then at the sound of his bugle-horn his retinue hastened towards him,
Golo among them.
"Do you know these two?" thundered out the count to the latter,
tearing him from the throng and conducting him to Genovefa.
The wretch, as if struck by a club, broke down and, clasping his
master's knees, he confessed his wickedness and begged for mercy.
Siegfried thrust him contemptuously from him, refusing sternly, in
spite of the countess' intercession, to pardon his crime. Golo was
bound and led away, and a disgraceful death was his reward.
* * * * *
Now began a time of great happiness for Siegfried and his saint-like
wife, and they lived in undisturbed peace with their little son.
In gratitude to Heaven Siegfried caused a church to be built on the
spot where the white doe had appeared to him first. The countess often
made a pilgrimage to this house of God, to thank Him who had caused
her tears to be turned into joy. Then a day came when her corpse was
carried into the forest, and was buried in the church. Even now in
Laach, the wanderer is shown the church and the tombstone, also the
cavern where she suffered so much. Thus the name of St. Genovefa will
last to all time.