dare not—he dare not! . . . I curse him. Do you hear, Kläre? I curse him! . . . The first man who kisses these lips, who embraces this body after me—may his soul rot in Hell! . . . Kläre, Heaven hears the curse of a dying man. . . . Take care for yourself—take care for him. . . . He is des- tined for Hell! In madness, misery, and death! Woe! Woe! Woe!'"
Sigurd, out of whose mouth the voice of the dead Prince had resounded, had arisen. He was standing there, large and stout in his white flannels, looking off into the clean night. The green plaid sank from the banisters into the garden. The Baron felt himself freezing horribly. It was as though his body was becoming rigid. He wanted to cry out, but when he opened his mouth no sound came. At this moment he was in the little room of Mme Eisenstein, the music teacher—where he had seen Kläre for the first time. A Pierrot was standing on the stage declaiming, "With this curse on his lips Prince Bedenbruck died, and . . . listen . . . the wretch in whose arms she lay, the victim on whom the curse will be fulfilled, is I! . . . I! . . . I! . . ."
Then the stage collapsed with a loud crash, and sank Leisenbohg's eyes into the sea. But he, without a word, fell over backwards in his chair—like a marionette.
Sigurd sprang up, calling for help. Two servants came, picked up the unconscious man and laid him in an armchair which was standing off to one side of the table. One of them ran for a doctor; the other brought water and vinegar. Sigurd rubbed the Baron's forehead and temples, but he remained motionless. Then the doctor arrived and began his examination. It did not last long. At the end he said, "This gentleman is dead!"
Sigurd Olse was very agitated. He asked the doctor to make all necessary arrangements, and left the terrace. He passed through the drawing-room, went up stairs to his own bedroom, made a light, and wrote hastily:
"Kläre! I found your telegram at Molde, where I had fled immediately. I will confess that I did not believe you; I thought that you were trying to quiet me with a lie. Forgive me—I am no longer in doubt. The Baron von Leisenbohg was here. I sent for him. I asked him no questions; for as a man of honour he would have had to lie to me. I had an ingenious idea. I told him of the
