But the boy stood with a far-off look in his large and beautiful eyes, and then, giving a little sigh, fell heavily to the floor.
When he returned to consciousness, he heard a voice say, "Poor child!" It seemed like Herr Bach's; and then he heard Carl say, in a sobbing voice, "Franz! dear Franz!" Why did they pity him, he wondered; and then it all came back to him—the prize, the violin, and Raoul.
"Where is the violin?" he murmured.
"It will be here in a moment," some one said.
Then he saw the pale, remorseful face of Raoul, who said: "Dear little Franz, forgive me!"
The boy raised his hand and pointed to heaven, and said, softly: "Dear Raoul, I forgive you!"—and then all the pain and bitterness in his heart against Raoul died out.
The sweet face of the Empress, made lovely by its look of tender pity, bent over him, and she kissed him and murmured, "Poor little one!" Then she placed the beautiful violin in his arms, and the thalers in his hands.
And so, with the famed violin and bright thalers clasped close on his breast, the life-light died out of his eyes, and little Franz fell asleep.