"Are you happy?"
The countess, who had never in her life perceived any token of paternal affection in his manner, was deeply moved by this first sign of affection in the hour of parting. She strove to find some soothing reply which would not be false and yet satisfy his feeble reasoning powers; but he had again forgotten the question.
"Are you married?" he asked again, as if he had been absent a long time, and saw his daughter to-day for the first time.
The nurses withdrew into the next room.
The father and daughter were alone. Meantime his memory seemed to be following some clue.
"Where is your husband?"
"Which one?" asked the countess, greatly agitated. "Wildenau?"
"No, no--the--the other one; let him come!" He put out his hand gropingly, as if he expected some one to clasp it: "Say farewell--"
"Father," sobbed the countess, laying the seeking hand gently back on the coverlet. "He cannot bid you farewell, he is not here!"
"Why not? I should have been glad to see him--son-in-law--grandson--no one here?"