how fancied they were burying
there all the joy and all the happiness of life. Moving on rapidly down
the hill, I was no longer able to see into the churchyard; the chorale
came to an end, and I perceived not far distant from the gate some of
the mourners returning from the funeral. The Professor, with his niece
on his arm, both in deep mourning, went close past me without noticing
me. The young lady had her handkerchief pressed close to her eyes, and
was weeping bitterly. In the frame of mind in which I then was I could
not possibly go into the town, so I sent on my servant with the
carriage to the hotel where I usually put up, whilst I took a turn in
the familiar neighbourhood, to get rid of a mood that was possibly only
due to physical causes, such as heating on the journey, &c. On arriving
at a well-known avenue, which leads to a pleasure resort, I came upon a
most extraordinary spectacle. Councillor Krespel was being conducted by
two mourners, from whom he appeared to be endeavouring to make his
escape by all sorts of strange twists and turns. As usual, he was
dressed in his own curious home-made grey coat; but from his little
cocked-hat, which he wore perched over one ear in military fashion, a
long narrow ribbon of black crape fluttered backwards and forwards in
the wind. Around his waist he had buckled a black sword-belt; but
instead of a sword he had stuck a long fiddle-bow into it. A creepy
shudder ran through my limbs: "He's insane," thought I, as I slowly
followed them. The Councillor's companions led him as far as his house,
where he embraced them, laughing loudly. They left him; and then
his glance fell upon me, for I now stood near him. He stared at me
fixedly for some time; then he cried in a hollow voice, "Welcome, my
student-friend! you also understand it!" Therewith he took me by the
arm and pulled me into the house, up the steps, into the room where the
violins hung. They were all draped in black crape; the violin of the
old master was missing; in its place was a cypress wreath. I knew what
had happened. "Antonia! Antonia!" I cried in inconsolable grief. The
Councillor, with his arms crossed on his breast, stood beside me, as if
turned into stone. I pointed to the cypress wreath. "When she died,"
said he in a very hoarse solemn voice, "when she died, the soundpost of
that violin broke into pieces with a ringing crack, and the sound-board
was split from end to end. The faithful instrument could only liv