Lenz quickly returned with some brandy, which seemed considerably to revive Petrowitsch, who, fondling the dog that had crept close to him, said, "Now let me go to sleep for a time. What is that? Is it not the cry of a raven?
"Yes, one was dashed down the chimney by the snow, into the kitchen."
"Well, let me sleep."
CHAPTER XXXV.
A HEART TOUCHED.
Lenz went and sat down beside Annele in the sitting room. For some time neither said a word; the child alone laughed, and tried alternately to grasp the light, and then her father's eyes, that were fixed sadly on her.
"Thank God! that if we must perish," said Lenz, at last, "our boy at least is safe." Annele was silent; the clocks continued to tick quietly in unison, and now the musical clock began to play a hymn. The eyes of the husband and wife then met for the first time. Annele changed the position of the child on her lap, and clasped her hands reverently.
"If you can pray," said Lenz, after the sacred melody was finished, "I advise you to search your heart, and try to repent."
"I have nothing to repent of, so far as you are concerned, and what I really do require to repent of, I shall confide to God alone. I never wished to be unkind to you, I tried to be good and upright always."