and, as a sunbeam now pierced the elder-bushes, I saw the bared head of the man at the window, who was standing among the young singers, slowly and solemnly beating time with his hand.
The little bell had stopped ringing, the throng noiselessly dispersed without the unfeeling buzz and murmur which usually rise at once when people have merely dutifully paid the last honors to one who has departed from their midst. I remained quietly in my place watching the throng move off in the direction of the town, while the old dames, coughing and panting, returned home. My intention was to approach the lonely man, who I thought would be the last to quit the grave, and modestly express my desire to learn some particulars of the dead woman. But when I entered the cemetery and glanced toward the elder-bushes, there was no trace of him.
It was now quite time for me to return to the hotel, where my carriage must already be waiting. I consoled myself by the belief that the postmaster would undoubtedly be fully informed about the Canoness. The pale, still face, with the silvery halo around the head, in the mysterious twilight, still hovered before me, and I quickened my pace to obtain a solution of the mystery.
The path I took through the grain-fields, along whose edges grew small cherry-trees, did not lead me back to the city-gate, but to a different part of the wall, which I found entirely deserted. There was not a single baby-carriage, nor a pedestrian resting on any of the benches. Yet it was pleasant to saunter along in the shade, and I lapsed into a comfortable, dreamy state, which is really the greatest advantage of travel, because we shake off our daily dull routine of occupation, and, in some strange manner, feel as if we had just dropped from the moon and were strangers in this world, to whom the most trivial thing appears new and wonderful.
Suddenly I stopped. Sitting on the next bench, in front of me, I saw the man in the black coat whom I had just vainly sought. He was evidently so much absorbed in his own thoughts that he did not hear me, but sat gazing out over the open country and the waters of the lake, or rather at the little chapel and the small portion of the almshouse cemetery visible from this point. I could now obtain a near view of his delicate, regular features, and was particularly struck by the beautiful arch of the brow, and the character expressed in the nose, which was by no means small. His hat lay on the bench at his side, and his clasped hands rested on his knee.
He now perceived me, but remained perfectly motionless, as if he could thereby render himself invisible and induce me to pass on.
But I was not disposed to let the favorable chance slip.
"Allow me to sit with you a moment, sir," I said. "I am passing through here on a journey, and am somewhat fatigued by rambling about. I must set out again in fifteen minutes, much as I regret not becoming more familiar with the pretty town. A walk on the walls like this can not be easily found, far or near."
He made no reply, merely bent his head slightly and took up his hat to give me the other half of the bench. I sat down, and we remained silent for a time.
"Pardon me," I said at last, "if I seem intrusive, and perhaps disturb you in a mood in which one prefers to be entirely alone. But I was a witness of the funeral that has just taken place, and, as the image of the lifeless form I saw just before in the coffin has haunted me ever since, and I fancied I read a remarkable destiny on the noble brow, you can probably understand that I am reluctant to leave here without learning some particulars of her fate. One of the old women in the almshouse below gave me some information which, though very vague and insufficient, only increased my interest. You seem to have been on more intimate terms with this universally respected woman. If you would see a better motive in my question than idle curiosity, I should be very grateful to you for any details of her life you might be willing to give."