he parched lips of the
child with a few drops of water.

Towards midnight a violent wind arose on the lake, and the young man
shivered as the window was still open. He seized the first wrap which
he found among the luggage, and covered himself up with it. It was a
long soft burnouss lined with silk which belonged to the young woman.
He pulled the hood over his head; and a sweet scent was wafted from it;
as the silk touched his face a peculiar feeling of languor came over
him; he closed his eyes, but a confused maze of ideas passed through
his mind, and he could not sleep.

Suddenly his eyes opened with an expression of terror in them. He
started from his chair, and trembling violently, he stared at the lake.
Conspicuous on the dark surface of the water, something white glided
slowly; it had the shape of a veiled figure, and seemed to move towards
the house. The moon had appeared again, and lit up a faint streak of
mist which had strayed from the mountain tops, and was swept across the
lake. When it reached the current of wind that blew from the ravine, it
dissolved, and the surface of the water was as clear as before; but the
only one who had seen this airy apparition still stood as if rooted to
the ground and stared at the spot where it had disappeared. A cold
perspiration bathed his brow, his breath came shortly and quickly, and
his eyes, which started from their sockets, remained fixed on that
spot, as if he expected to see the vision appear again the next moment.

A hot little hand touched the clammy ones of the horror-stricken man,
"Is it you, Papa?" asked the little girl; and sat up in her bed. Two
small thin arms were stretched up to him and before he was aware of it,
the child clung to his neck and hid its burning face on his breast.
"Don't leave us again, Papa," she said, "or Mamma will cry again, and I
must die."

In an instant the nightmare which oppressed him, vanished. He clasped
the slender little figure in his arms, as if it were a protection
against the malignant powers. He held her so for some time, and while
the child caressed him, he felt the blood flow more calmly through his
veins. He kissed her little face, stroking her damp curls, asked: "What
is your name, my child." "Are you my Papa," she said, "and do not even
know that I am your own little Fan? Ah, yes, I know that they have shot
you, that is why you have forgotten me. Did it hurt you much?"

"To-morrow I will tell you all about it," he s