I said:
"Tell me, Moon, thou pale and grey
Pilgrim of Heaven's homeless way,"
didst thou know young Countess Yarnova, so full of life a few days ago, and now lying there in the cold bosom of the earth? Tell me what bitter and unbearable grief broke that young heart; speak to me, and I shall listen to thy words as to the voice of my mother, when, in the evening, she whispered weird tales to me while putting me to sleep.
A loud moan seemed to arise from the tomb, and then I heard a voice as silvery sweet as the music of the spheres, lisp softly in my ear:—
Passing by the Yarnova Castle three days ago, I peeped within its casements, and, in a dimly-lighted hall, I saw Countess Yadviga, who had just returned from Paris. She wore a black velvet dress, and her head was muffled in a lace mantilla; although her features twitched and she was sad and careworn, still she looked almost as young and even handsomer than her fair daughter.
Presently, as she sat in the dark room, the door was opened; a page stepped in, drew aside the gilt morocco portière emblazoned with the Yarnova arms, and ushered in the handsome stranger, Aleksij Orsinski.
The Baron looked round the dimly-lighted room for a while. At last he perceived the figure of the Countess as she sat in the shadow of the huge fire-place; then he went up to her and bowed.
"Thank you, Countess Yarnova, for snatching yourself away from beautiful Paris and coming in this dismal place."
The figure in the high-backed arm-chair bowed slightly, and without uttering a single word, motioned the stranger to a seat at a short distance. The Baron sat down.
"Thank you especially for at last giving your consent to my marriage with the beautiful Anya."