"Are you not the painter of the sneezing self-portrait?" she asked. He bowed, and said, "Most certainly." Having replied that in an hour he should hear the decision, she made him a short, respectful, leave-taking obeisance, and the simple, noble form left him gazing after her in rapture; and he was provoked that the childish mirrors round about should dare to send after the rare goddess so many shadows of herself.
At home he found, indeed, the crazed young man, whose ears alone lived any longer among realities, again on his knees at the sixth stroke of the clock; but his hope bloomed now under a warmer heaven. After an hour, the Lector appeared, and said, with a significant smile, the thing was going on right well; he was to get an opinion from the physician, and then the decision would be accordingly.
Herr von Augusti gave him, with courtier-like explicitness, the more definite intelligence, that the Countess had flown to the Princess, whose regard for her future travelling companion she knew, and told her she would, in Idoine's case, do it without hesitation. The Princess considered with herself a little, and said this was a thing which only her sister could decide. Both hastened to her, pictured to her the whole case, and Idoine asked, with alarm, how she could help her resemblance and her well-meant journey hither, that they should wish to draw her so deeply into such fantastic entanglements. At this moment Julienne came in, pale, and said she had only since morning received intelligence of this, and it was the duty of such a good soul to grant the apparition. Then Idoine, considering herself and everything, answered, with dignity, it was not at all the unusualness and impropriety of the thing which she dreaded, but the untruthfulness and unworthiness, as she would have to play false with the holy name of a departed soul, and cheat a sick man with a superficial similarity. The Countess said she knew of no answer to that, and yet her feelings were not against the thing. All were silent and perplexed. The conscientious Idoine was moved in the tenderest heart that ever hung trembling under the weight of such a decision upon a life. At last Linda said, with her sharp-sightedness, "Properly speaking, however, after all, there is no moral man to be deceived in the case, but a sleeper, a dreamer; and imagination and delusion are not, in fact, going to be strengthened in him, but to be subdued." Julienne drew Idoine aside, probably to portray to her more nearly the youth, whom she had not seen any more than Linda. Soon after, Idoine came back with her decision.
"If the physician will give a certificate that a human life hangs upon this, then I must conquer my feeling. God knows," she added, with emotion, "that I am quite as willing to do as to forbear, if I only know first what is right. It is my first untruth."
The Lector hastened from Schoppe to the Doctor, in order to bring back with him from the latter, among many turns of expression, just the most convenient certificate.
Schoppe waited long and anxiously. After seven o'clock came a note from Augusti: "Hold yourself in readiness; punctually at eight o'clock comes the privy person." Forthwith, by way of sparing the patient's feverish eyes, he put out the wax-candles, and lighted the magic hanging-lamp of isinglass in the chamber.
He kindled the sick youth to new fever with stories of people who had come back from the tomb, and advised him to kneel with long, ardent prayers before the fast gate of death, in order that her mild, merciful spirit might open it, and healingly touch him on the threshold.
Just before eight, the Princess and her sister came in their sedans. Schoppe was himself seized with a shudder at the sight of this risen Liana. With sparkling eye and firmly shut mouth, he led the fair sisters into the coulisse, whence they already heard, out on the adjoining stage, the youth praying. But Idoine's tender limbs trembled at the unpractised part in which her truthful spirit must belie itself. She wept upon it, and her fair, holy mouth was full of mute sighs. Her sister had to embrace her often in order to encourage her heart.
The clock struck. With a frightful fervor the frantic one within prayed for peace. The tongue of the hour was imperative. Idoine sent up a look as a prayer to God. Schoppe slowly opened the door.
Within, blooming in the magic dusk, with arms and eyes uplifted to heaven, knelt a beautiful son of the gods in the enchanted circle of madness, whose only and continual cry was, "O peace! peace!" Then, with inspiration, as if sent by God, the virgin stepped in, clothed in white, like the deceased in the dream-temple and on the bier, with the long veil at her side, but taller in stature, less rosy, and with a sharper, brighter starlight in the blue ether of the eye, and more resembling Liana among the blest, and sublimely, as if, like a renovated spring, she had come back again from the stars, so she appeared before him. His enchaining, fiery look terrified her. In a low and faltering tone, she stammered, "Albano, have peace!" "Liana?" groaned his whole breast, and, sinking down, he covered his weeping eyes. "Peace!" cried she, more strongly and courageously, because his eye no longer smote and staggered her; and she disappeared as a superhuman spirit vanishes from men.