The girl walked through the passages that were so familiar to her. The bright little lamp in her hand roved over the roof of stone and over the stone walls, where, in niches, the thousand-year-old dead slept.
The girl had never known fear of the dead; only reverence and gravity in face of their gravity. To-day she saw neither wall nor dead. She walked on, smiling and not knowing she did it. She felt like singing. With an expression of happiness, which was still incredulous and yet complete, she said the name of her beloved over to herself.
Quite softly: “Freder....” And once more: “Freder....”
Then she raised her head, listening attentively, standing quite still....
It came back as a whisper: An echo?—No.
Almost inaudibly a word was breathed:
“Maria....”
She turned around, blissfully startled. Was it possible that he had come back?
“Freder—!” she called. She listened.