It was on the morning of 8th August. We were all seated at the breakfast-table and reading our correspondence which had just come by the post. The two fiancées had fastened on the love letters that had come for them, I was turning over the newspapers. From Vienna the news was:—
The cholera death-rate is rising considerably. Not only in the military but also in the civil hospitals many cases have been already reported, which must be looked on as genuine Asiatic cholera, and energetic measures are being taken on all sides to check the progress of the epidemic.
I was about to read the passage aloud when Aunt Mary, who had in her hand a letter from one of her friends in a neighbouring château, gave a cry of horror.
“Horrible! Betty writes me that in her house two persons have died of cholera, and now her husband is ill also.”
“Your excellence, the schoolmaster wishes to speak to you.”
The gentleman announced followed the footman into the room. He looked pale and bewildered.
“Count, I tell you, with all deference, that I must close the school. Two children were taken ill yesterday, and to-day they are dead.”
“The cholera?” we cried out.
“I think it is. I think we must give it that name. The so-called diarrhœa which broke out among the soldiers quartered here, and of which twenty of them died, was the cholera. Great terror prevails in the village, because the doctor who came here from town has affirmed without any concealment that the horrible disease has now beyond doubt taken hold of the population of this place.”
“What sound is that,” I asked, listening, “that one hears?”