out waiting for the horses to stop, clambered up over the carriage-door and fairly clung to Sanin.
'You are alive, you are not wounded!' he kept repeating. 'Forgive me, I did not obey you, I did not go back to Frankfort . . . I could not! I waited for you here . . . Tell me how was it? You . . . killed him?'
Sanin with some difficulty pacified Emil and made him sit down.
With great verbosity, with evident pleasure, Pantaleone communicated to him all the details of the duel, and, of course, did not omit to refer again to the monument of bronze and the statue of the commander. He even rose from his seat and, standing with his feet wide apart to preserve his equilibrium, folding his arm on his chest and looking contemptuously over his shoulder, gave an ocular representation of the commander—Sanin! Emil listened with awe, occasionally interrupting the narrative with an exclamation, or swiftly getting up and as swiftly kissing his heroic friend.
The carriage wheels rumbled over the paved roads of Frankfort, and stopped at last before the hotel where Sanin was living.
Escorted by his two companions, he went up the stairs, when suddenly a woman came with hurried steps out of the dark corridor; her face
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