tered down the stone
staircase, all the servants fleeing from her as from a spectre.

From this moment the count was a changed man. His energies were
crushed. He lived as in a dream, having no wish, and being incapable
of forming a single resolution. Those around him could not learn
whether he was deeply shocked by the death of his consort, who died the
night after that fatal day. Since that time he was scarcely ever heard
to speak or to utter a sound, sigh, or complaint. He no longer
concerned himself about any thing, and seemed perfectly indifferent
when the government confiscated his largest estate to punish him as a
rebel and violator of the laws. In his present state of mind, he
abandoned himself to the guidance of those very priests whom previously
he had so pointedly avoided; he frequented the church often, and was
fervent in his devotions. He never looked round when people behind him
called out, "There sneaks the old sinner, the traitor, the murderer,
and rebel, back again into God's house." Now, likewise, some relatives
profited by his listlessness so far as to deprive him by a lawsuit of
another large estate, and there was every appearance that of all the
large possessions of his ancestors, nothing would be left, for his only
heir, a beautiful boy, had not a prudent guardian of the child done all
in his power for him. From the unconcern of his father, the young
count became daily more impoverished, leaving to his offspring but a
small portion of the large property to which he had succeeded; but,
notwithstanding these misfortunes, and also the breaking out of war,
the next proprietor of the Klausenburg, and his family, maintained
their rank, and were respected in the neighbourhood. By his industry,
his success, and his marriage with a wealthy lady, he partly retrieved
his fortune, and succeeded in his endeavours to revive and maintain the
former splendour of his castle for some fifty or sixty years, so that
his friends and relatives resorted to it as formerly, with delight, and
he, at his death, left to his only son his remaining estates in good
condition, besides large sums of money. Thus the curse of the gipsies
appeared totally removed, the count and his son having completely
forgotten former events, or, having, perhaps, never heard of the curse.

I was a spirited boy when I made the acquaintance of Francis, the last
heir of the Klausenburg. This Francis, who was about a year my senior,
was chee