At the same hour Benedict was just entering Helen's room where Karl lay in his shroud. The two women, who had been entrusted with that pious duty, were praying by the bed, but Helen was absent. Benedict began by looking in every direction, expecting to see her praying in some corner, but not perceiving her in any, he enquired where she could be.
One of the women replied:
"She went out an hour ago, saying that she would go to the Church of Notre Dame de la Croix."
"How was she dressed?" asked Benedict. "And," he added, with an uneasy presentiment, "did she not say anything or leave any message for me?"
"Are you the gentleman called M. Benedict?" returned the woman who had answered his previous questions.
"Yes," said he.
"Then here is a letter for you."
She handed him the note that Helen had left. He opened it hastily. It contained only these few lines:
"MY BELOVED BROTHER,
"I promised Karl, before Notre Dame de la Croix, not to outlive him; Karl is dead, and I am about to die.
"If my body is recovered, see, my dear Benedict, that it is placed in my husband's coffin; this was the reason why I asked you to have it made wide. I hope that God will permit me to sleep in it by Karl's side throughout eternity.
"I bequeath a thousand florins to the person who finds my body, if it should be some boatman or fisherman, or poor man with a family. If it should be some person who cannot or will not accept the money, I leave him my last blessing.
"The morrow of Karl's death is the day of mine.
"My farewells to all who love me."
"HELEN."
Benedict was finishing the reading of this letter when Lenhart appeared in the doorway, pale and dripping with water, and calling out: