My horse was saddled already, but there was delay with the carriage, as usual. Half an hour had passed before the coachman drove up to the porch with the carriage. I was behind it on horseback. The storm seemed to be just overhanging, but I did not wish to delay any longer. They brought out Hania's trunks at once and strapped them behind to the carriage. Father Ludvik was waiting on the porch in a white linen coat, a white umbrella in his hand.
"Where is Hania? Is she ready?" asked I.
"She is ready. She went half an hour ago to pray in the chapel."
I went to the chapel, but did not find Hania. I went to the dining-room, from there to the drawing-room,—no Hania in any place.
"Hania! Hania!" I began to call.
No one gave answer. Somewhat alarmed, I went to her room, thinking that she might have grown faint. In her room the old woman Vengrosia was sitting and crying.
"Is it time," asked she, "to take farewell of the young lady?"
"Where is the young lady?" asked I, impatiently.
"She went to the garden."
I ran to the garden immediately.