loudly demanded admittance, the rest agreed that it was some benighted traveler, who had turned from the public highway into the woods to shorten his route and gotten deeper into the forest until by a lucky chance he arrived at Hlohov.
But it was no belated traveler with whom Andrew returned; it was an official messenger from the city. Without greeting any one, he stepped to the center of the room, pulled off his hat, folded his hands, and solemnly announced:
“Three days ago our gracious master, the mighty and great Count Francis Václav Felsenburk, while sitting at the table, was struck with paralysis. He was carried to bed unconscious, and in half an hour died, in the name of the Lord.”
All jumped up with affright.
“The funeral will take place next Sunday, in Prague; all whose duties do not prevent them are to be present,” the messenger added. “Every servant will be entertained at the
