his entrance he met the King, who, after
greeting him with great kindness, began to rally him upon his late
weakness. Lindorf thanked his Majesty for the honour he did him, and,
after a short reply, they for some time walked up and down the saloon
together; when at length it was agreed to part, that each might amuse
himself according to his own liking, with the different characters
exhibited that evening. But the King's intention was solely to watch the
movements of Lindorf; for with heartfelt regret he beheld, as they
parted, the fixed melancholy that still brooded on his countenance: and,
when he beheld him pass, with downcast eyes, the saloon, where the
dance and music reigned with such irresistible sway, all hope of
reclaiming the unhappy widower disappeared. For some time he was witness
of his melancholy deportment, and was much affected to find that, where
every face beamed a smile, the countenance of Lindorf alone was sad and
dejected. The King, despairing of his project being successful, was
about to quit the rooms, when he beheld Lindorf suddenly stop and speak
to a lady in a black domino. Rejoiced at this circumstance, hope again
revived, and he stayed his departure, to watch the event.

Lindorf, when he quitted the King, continued to walk up and down the
rooms, nothing attracting his attention but the lady in the black
domino, who, wherever he turned, always appeared before him. At first he
imagined the character intended merely to amuse him, and that her
strange deportment was instigated by his friends; but the unusual
solemnity attending her appearance, after he had in vain desired her to
desist, struck him with astonishment. He suddenly stopped, and demanded
who she was? "I dare not tell you," answered the domino, in a deep and
plaintive tone of voice. Lindorf startled--his blood ran cold; it was
exactly the voice of his deceased wife. "Who are you? for heaven's
sake, tell me, or I die!" exclaimed Lindorf. "You will be more wretched
than you are, if I tell you," replied the mysterious unknown, in accents
that doubly excited his curiosity. "Tell me," said he, "I conjure you;
for I cannot be more wretched than I now am. Tell me all, and do not
leave me in this state of inquietude." "Know then," answered the domino,
"I am your wife." Lindorf started--every nerve was wrung with anguish.
"Impossible," said he in a fright, "it cannot be; yet the voice appears
the same." Here his tongue faltering, he ceased to spe