Who shall describe the situation in which poor Krusenstern found himself!--who the misery of the friends of both! He was immovable to all persuasions to flight, and was committed by the magistrate to whom he had surrendered himself of his own accord, to the university prison until further inquiry.
The family of the fallen youth were immediately written to, to tell them, that, on account of some degree of indisposition, he would not be able immediately to follow them, as had been agreed, and a friend of the house undertook the sorrowful task of opening to them the dreadful intelligence. But the most terrible part was yet to come. Von Avensleben was highly beloved amongst the students, and it was resolved to attend his funeral with a torch-train; and that the wretched prisoner, who, during all this time had sate brooding in a stupor of grief without listening to any one, might not perceive it, they determined that the funeral should take place a day earlier than usual. I was with the unhappy man on this eventful evening, endeavouring to comfort him, and to withdraw his thoughts from the dark pictures of his imagination. The shutters of the little room were closed, but a tone of the dismal mourning music struck his ear as the funeral train passed by the end of the street, along the Hauptstrasse, or High Street, of the city. "My friend! they bear him to the grave!" cried he with a terrible voice, and rushed to the window. I endeavoured to hold him back, but he tore himself loose from my grasp with giant strength, and bursting open the shutters struck his head against the iron grating. There flared the sullen glow of the torches, and the tone of the trumpets quivered through my vitals. With ghostlike, terrible, and distorted countenance, he gazed after the melancholy train;--"I--I have murdered him! the good, the true friend! There! I see him with the bleeding wound, crying, 'Wo!' over me! Oh God! Oh God! thou has cast me off! Maria! Maria! what have I done to thee! Seize me, ye spirits of hell! Tear me away from the pure angel-form!" So he raved on, till, exhausted, he fell back into the chamber.
He passed the night in the most horrible delirium; and for many days it was not dared to leave him a moment alone, lest he should effect his desperate endeavours at self-destruction.
But if the train left horrors behind it, it met yet still greater as it approached the end of the city. The letter had reached the family of Von Avensleben, but the friend had missed the sisters in the darkness of the night, as they hastened back to town to attend their sick brother.
"Whom do they bury there?" asked the trembling Maria, as their carriage, passing in at the Mannheim gate, was detained by the mourning procession.
"The student who was shot in the duel," answered an old man, who did not know the young lady--"the Herr Von Avensleben."
The cry of horror and misery in the carriage, as it wheeling round again rolled away through the dark night, I attempt not to describe. Maria only too soon became aware of the whole terrible secret. She fell into a long and severe nervous fever, and only arose from her sick bed to die a more weary death from the sure poison of incurable sorrow. She had written to her former lover a most moving letter, which assured him of her pardon, and in which she exhorted him to listen to the consolations of religion.
The kind girl had not desired the return of the little admonitory tokens of happy days; she had also retained his gifts, memorials of a pure and beautiful love, which a dreadful fate had destroyed.
Krusenstern, who spent two years in prison, is now come back again, and--you have seen him.
All had listened in silence to the recital. Of some of them, the pipes were gone out,--others blew powerfully clouds of smoke around them.