mmanded that?" inquired the
little pitchman.

"Because she loved a married man. It won't do to talk of that."

"Why won't it?" whispered a sailor. "She and the king were fond of each
other, and, to save herself from doing wrong, she took her life."

How can I describe my emotions, while listening to their conversation?

Years hence, perhaps, some solitary child of man may cross the lake and
sing the song of the beautiful countess with the diamond star on her
brow.

I do not remember how night came on, and how I at last fell asleep. I
awoke and still heard the song of the drowned countess. Its sad, deep
strain had filled my dream. All that I had experienced seemed but as a
vision. I looked out of my window--I looked across the lake and beheld
the golden characters in the rosy dawn.

What was I to do? Should I turn back?

My little pitchman was quite happy when he saw me so fresh again. The
hostess offered me a picture of the monument, saying that every visitor
bought one. My uncle bargained with her, got it for half the price she
had asked, and then presented it to me. I carry the picture of my
gravestone with me.

I felt irresistibly drawn toward another grave--my father's. While my
hand rested on the mound, an inner voice said to me: "You will be
reconciled."--I expiate and atone for my sin.

How the memories awakened by these different spots agitated me. I
cannot write about it--my heart is breaking! Besides this, it is filled
with fear. I shall be brief. I am unable to continue my recital. I
shall never again look at these pages.

We went to the Frauensee and crossed over to the convent. Among the
nuns, I saw my beloved Emma, who makes a yearly pilgrimage to my
gravestone. For the first time in many years, I prayed with her. What
difference does it make whether one still lives or is dead, as long as
the thought--

My hand trembles while I write, but I will....

I had left the convent and was returning across the lake, when the
thought flashed upon me: "I expiate in freedom! That is my only pride.
My will holds me as fast as the bolts of the convent gate would do, and
I--I--work--"

Everything was carried out just as I had determined. I saw the whole
world once more and bade it adieu.

We journeyed to the capital. The city noises and the rapid driving
alarmed me.

When I again heard the rustling of a silk gown, for the first time, the
sound quite affected me. I felt as if impelled to accost the fir