"My great-grandfather did," answered the count.
"You are joking."
"Not at all. Adolphus Shrann, my great-grandfather, saw not only one soul, but even two!"
"He was dreaming, then."
"No, for he knew what he was going to see, and that thought alone was sufficient to keep him awake."
"Ah! then in that case somebody made a jest of him, and by some optical delusion caused him to believe that he had seen a veritable supernatural vision."
"No, I assure you it was not so," replied the count. "I am determined to relate the history to you in full, this evening; and," added he, with a voice changed by the ardent friendship that he felt for the baron, "I should esteem myself really happy if its recital could cause you to kneel down side by side with me before the altar of that God whom you are so worthy to know. It is but there that we are separated, and did you know all that my true friendship suffers in the thought that, after living these long years together, and after having shared all the trials and the pains of this life until our old age, notwithstanding this, I should yet be alone when the hour comes to receive the recompense. Ah! my dear Frederic, that single thought would suffice to empoison the joys of paradise."
Here the two friends warmly shook hands, and after having again replenished their tankards and their pipes, the count commenced the story that you are going to hear.
"You know," said the count, "that the Shrann family has always been cited as one of the most fruitful in all Germany."
"And you! you certainly have not derogated from the example of your ancestors," said the baron.