On the marble slab of the pedestal, half leaning against the lamp, lay a book, still open, as if it had been placed there before extinguishing the light. Over everything there seemed to rest a shimmer of that serene, unconscious peace which irradiates a pure maiden's soul. She who dwelt here had fallen asleep yesterday with a prayer on her lips, to awaken to-day with a smile.
After the physician had held silent survey, he stepped back from the aperture.
"Put your arm through, Adalbert," he said, "and try to reach the lock. She has bolted the door from the inside."
But Mrs. Hellinger squeezed herself up against the door, and with loud cries implored her sweet one to wake up and draw the bolt herself. At last it was possible to push her on one side, and the door was opened. The three stepped up to the bedside.
A marble-white countenance, with lustreless, half-open eyes, and an ecstatic smile on its lips, met their gaze. The beautiful head, with its classic, refined features, was slightly bowed towards the left shoulder, and the unbound hair fell down in great shining waves upon the regal bust, over which the nightdress was torn. A white button with a shred of linen attached, which hung in the buttonhole, was the only sign that a state of excitement must have preceded slumber.
"My sweet one, you are sleeping, are you not?" sobbed Mrs. Hellingen "Say that you are sleeping! You cannot have brought such disgrace upon your aunt, your dear aunt, who cared for you and watched over you like her own child." With that she seized the unconscious girl's pale, pendant, white hand, and endeavoured to drag her up by it.
Her tender-hearted husband had covered his face with his hands, and was weeping. The physician gave himself no time for emotion. He had pulled out his instruments, pushed Mrs. Hellinger aside with scant politeness, and was bending over the bosom, which with one rapid touch he entirely freed of its covering.
When he rose up, every drop of blood had left his face.
"One last attempt," he said, and made a quick incision straight across the upper arm, where an artery wound itself in a bluish line through the white, gleaming flesh. The edges of the wound gaped open without filling with blood; only after some seconds a few sluggish, dark drops oozed forth.
Then the old man threw the shining little knife far from him, folded his hands and--struggling with his tears--uttered a prayer.