e imprints of the knees of the departed youth, where he had
knelt on the pedestal of the monument in the snow, and he fell
a-thinking.
Did not this woman, who had so suffered, lived and died, deserve as
much? And he himself bent his knee before the monument.
And he read the name. Like a spectral invitation, those five letters,
F-a-n-n-y, gleamed before him so seductively.
For a long time he remained immersed in his own reflections, and
thought--and thought--
At last he bent down and kissed the five letters one after another,
just as the other young fellow had done.
Then he flung himself on his horse. His errant groom, not finding his
master, was impatiently blowing his horn in every direction. Rudolf soon
came up with him, and half an hour later they were in the courtyard of
John Karpathy's castle. Karpathy had invited Rudolf to hasten to him
that very night.
CHAPTER XXI.
THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT.
They already expected Rudolf at the Castle. The moment he dismounted,
Paul, who was awaiting him in the hall, led him straight to Karpathy.
The servants all wore black since their mistress had been buried, and
all the mirrors and escutcheons in the rooms were still covered with the
black crape with which they had been enveloped on the day of the
funeral.
Squire John was waiting for Rudolf in his private room, and as soon as
he saw him enter, he rose from his seat, hastened to meet him, and
warmly pressed his hand.
"Many thanks, Rudolf, many thanks for coming. Pardon me for sending for
you at such an hour and in such hot haste. God has brought you. Thank
you very much for coming. Rudolf, a peculiar feeling has come over me.
Three days ago, a strange sort of sensation, not unpleasant, took
possession of my limbs, and when I awoke from my sleep in the night it
was with a odd sort of joy, I know not how to express it, as if my soul
had quitted me. I take it as an omen of my death. Do not gainsay me, I
beg. I am not afraid of death; I long for it. At such times a quick
current of air brushes past my ear, as if some one were about to fly
away from close beside me. I know what that means. Twice I have had a
similar sensation, and on each occasion a current of air has struck me.
I fancy this will be the last of them. I think of it with joy, and have
not the slightest fear of it. I have sent for you in order that I may
make my last will, while I still have the possession of all my
faculties, and I w
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