morbid. But there are limits to all things; and
it is not right to drive people to the verge of insanity in this
gratuitous sort of way. Antonia's story and circumstances, and the
mysterious sympathy between her and that ancient violin are very
touching, but in a way which makes one's blood curdle, and the _finale_
of the tale produces an inconsolable misery which I cannot but call
excessively painful--in fact, I consider it 'abominable.' It is a
strong expression; but I really don't see that I can well retract it."

"Are you accusing me," asked Theodore with a smile, "of having harrowed
your feelings with a more or less elaborately constructed fiction? I
was merely telling you about a strange character, of whom I was
reminded by the story of Serapion. I merely related circumstances which
actually occurred; and if you think any of them improbable, remember,
my dear sir, that it is nearly always the most improbable things that
really come to pass."

"Very likely," said Lothair. "Still, that is small excuse for you. You
should cither have told us nothing about this horrible Krespel, or
(admirable colourist as you are) you should have shown him in more
agreeable tints. However, we have had more than enough of that
distressful architect, _diplomate_, and fiddle maker. May he sink Into
oblivion? But now, Cyprian, I bend my knee to you. I shall never call
you a fanciful spirit-seer again. You have given us a strange proof
that reminiscences are very remarkable and mysterious things. All this
day you have not been able to get poor Serapion out of your mind, and I
see quite clearly that you have been much relieved, and happier, since
you told us his story. Now just come and look at this book here, this
excellent specimen of the ordinary household almanac, for it contains a
key to the whole mystery. This, you see, is the 14th of November. It
was on the 14th of November that you found your hermit lying dead in
his hut, and though you were not vouchsafed the assistance of a couple
of lions to bury him--as Ottmar suggested--and met with no particularly
wonderful adventures in the forest, of course you were deeply affected
at the sight of your friend, who had passed to his rest so gently. The
impression was ineradicable; and it may well be supposed that the
spirit within you brought the image of your friend more vividly before
you than usual on the anniversary of his death, by some process of
which you were unconscious. Do me the