to destroy my eternal,
almighty will? What further security of being immortal and eternal
does the man want who has any consciousness? How, and in what manner,
that is another question. What farce we shall then play, what mask,
what party-coloured wig, what gibbous labyrinth of entrails we shall
then possess, what etiquette and court taste of ugliness and beauty
will then be introduced, is uncertain. But, my good friends, as my own
power, without any thing more, preserves me immortal, the same energy
and free-will may bring me back to you whenever and as often as I like.
Believe me, ye fools, the spectres, as you call them, are not exactly
the worst or weakest spirits. Many a one would fain return, but he has
as little individual character _there_ as _here_, and hence the
impossibility of doing so. And to you,--you paragon, rogue, vain,
amiable character, full of talents, you bud of virtue, you barterer of
beauty, whom I was compelled to love so intensely, yea, compelled
despite of my inmost soul, which told me that you did not deserve
it,--to you, smooth skinned, straight grown, human animal, I shall ever
be quite near, believe me. For this love and jealousy, this rage after
you and your breathing, and conversation, will urge me to the earth,
and this will be, as the pious would say, my purgatory. Therefore, no
leave-taking; we shall meet again!'[1] Thus saying she offered me her
cold, dead hand.

"When life was extinct I returned to Elizabeth, but took care not to
communicate any thing of the frantic ravings of the deceased, as her
nerves were already excited by great anxiety, and she often suffered
from spasms.

"We now lived in still retirement in a rural solitude which, in spite
of our reduced finances, might have become delightful had I not
remarked that the morbid and melancholy mood of Elizabeth was on the
increase. She became pale and wasted, and I often found her weeping
when entering her chamber unexpectedly. When I asked her the reason of
this, she told me she knew not herself what was the matter with her,
that she always felt sorrowful without being able to say why; that when
she was alone she felt quite awed, it seemed so terrible to her that
her sister had been obliged to end her existence in such a frantic
passion, and that often when entering or sitting alone in her chamber
it was as if Ernestine stood near her; she fancied she heard her
singing, felt her breath, and her looks appeared to f