With
a scandalised exclamation on her lips, the Baroness rushed forward to
close it.
"Leave it open," said the old woman in a voice that for all its weakness
carried an air of command such as the Baroness had never heard before
from her lips.
"But you will die of cold!" she expostulated.
"I am dying in any case," said the voice, "and I want to hear their
music. They have come from far and wide to sing the death-music of my
family. It is beautiful that they have come; I am the last von
Cernogratz that will die in our old castle, and they have come to sing to
me. Hark, how loud they are calling!"
The cry of the wolves rose on the still winter air and floated round the
castle walls in long-drawn piercing wails; the old woman lay back on her
couch with a look of long-delayed happiness on her face.
"Go away," she said to the Baroness; "I am not lonely any more. I am one
of a great old family . . . "
"I think she is dying," said the Baroness when she had rejoined her
guests; "I suppose we must send for a doctor. And that terrible howling!
Not for much money would I have such death-music."
"That music is not to be bought for any amount of money," said Conrad.
Pages:
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51