“They were not, that is true; this time, however, it has been so ordered,” the lackey retorted. “Please,” he added, in the pleading tone in which only a nobleman’s servant knows how to beg without expressing his request in words. While speaking, he pointed again to the table where my friends were sitting.
“Well, I shall obey the order, and take my seat accordingly, to spare you trouble,” I said, softened, and walked to the table assigned me, while the lackey went through the hall and quickly disappeared through the main entrance.
The guests paid little or no attention to me. Some turned their heads; others glanced at me; but not having seen me coming in by the main door, they probably thought that I had left the table before and was now returning. Some shook hands with me; others greeted me with a kind smile or a bow of the head.
But before I sat down the gentle music had changed into a deafening fanfare. A few moments later the flourish ceased, a greater part of the lights were turned out, and as the black curtain was being drawn, we heard a sonorous voice, saying,—
“The performance begins!”
The eyes of all present were fixed upon the curtain. When the curtain was fully drawn I beheld a platform covered with a black cloth. On the platform stood a low catafalque, supporting a metallic coffin. Around the coffin there was a multitude of beautiful exotic flowers. Large candles were burning on both sides of the coffin. At its head there lay a large laurel wreath; farther down was an officer’s hat and sabre; and at the foot, in front, was this simple epitaph:—
Frederick Wünscher,
Imp. Royal First Lieutenant.
Born on the 7th of July, 1841.
Died on the 7th of July, 1866.
There was a general surprise.
A stillness so great that the least whisper could have been easily heard spread over the hall. After a few moments the silence was broken by sad, touching voices singing the well-known song of
