When dusk approached he ordered his sledge, hid the revolver in the boot of it, and set out on his way to the town.
The sun had been shining all day, and now the sky was all aglow with the last rays of the setting sun. The heath lay shrouded in a blue-gray mist, and sparkling ice-crystals were flying through the clear winter air.
When he passed Helenenthal he saw two sledges moving towards the manor-house laden with fir branches.
“It seems to me they are going to have a festivity there,” he murmured, looking after the sledges; and with a sombre smile he added, “I need not be jealous, for to-day I, too, hold a festival.”
At six o’clock he arrived in the town, procured himself an entrance-ticket, and remained crouched in a corner of the inn till nine o’clock, absorbed in his own dark thoughts.
When he entered the dancing-room, which was all stir and confusion, he hid himself in the shadow of a pillar, for he felt as though the murderous thoughts that filled his soul were written on his forehead, clearly visible to everybody.
All of a sudden a painful thrill ran through his frame. He had found the brothers; they stood in the middle of the room, proud and radiant, with silken badges on their shoulders, and lilies-of-the-valley in their button-holes, looking at the row of girls dressed in white, who ornamented the walls, with a triumphant smile.
“There, now you are doomed,” he muttered with a deep sigh. He felt that there was no retreat for him now. And then he hid in a quiet corner, from whence he could keep his victims in sight. The blazing lights lit up the scene for him as clearly as daylight, but he did not see it; the music fell in full chords upon his ear, but he did not hear it; all his faculties were swallowed up in one wild, bloodthirsty longing.
As he was staring in this way at the crowd, he heard close behind him a conversation between two portly elderly men.
“Are you going to the funeral also to-morrow?”