The artist was roused as if from sleep.
"Ah! Very well, give it here!" And taking the despatch, he opened it impatiently.
But he had scarcely cast his eyes on it, when astonishment and terror were reflected on his face, for the telegram was as follows:—
Kresovich shot himself an hour ago. Come.
Helena.
CHAPTER VII.
PANI Elzen met Svirski with a troubled and excited face; her eyes were dry, but reddened, as if from fever, and full of impatience.
"Have you received no letter?" inquired she, hurriedly.
"No. I have received nothing but your telegram. What a misfortune!"
"I thought that perhaps he had written to you."