"Every man has his troubles, but they are far better borne with good-humor than with wailing and mourning. Ah! there is the picture of the little lady--very like! And her brother by her side--remarkable, that he does not resemble his father in the least. Whom does that photograph represent?" He pointed to the picture draped in mourning.
This unexpected question seemed to embarrass Leonie, she blushed faintly and answered with a somewhat unsteady voice:
"A--a relation."
"Your brother, perhaps?"
"No, a cousin--quite a distant relation."
"Ah, indeed?" drawled Hagenbach.
The remote relation seemed to interest him, he examined very narrowly the features of the very pale and lank young man, with sleek hair and eyes romantically upturned, and then continued in an indifferent tone:
"That face has a familiar look to me. I must have seen it before somewhere."
"You are in error as to that." Leonie's voice quivered perceptibly. "It has been long since he was counted among the living. He has lain in his grave for years: the hot deserts of Africa."
"Heaven rest his soul!" said the doctor with provoking equanimity. "But what took him to Africa and into the desert? Did he go as an explorer perhaps?"