I cannot explain your treatment of me, I see that you followed the voice of your heart. I trust that that voice has not deceived you. If he whom you have chosen loves you as much as I should, be assured of your happiness. I reproach him not, I dare not judge a man whom you love. As to myself, forced by stern necessity to part with the hope of possessing you, I implore you as the highest favor not to remember my words thrown out in a moment of pain. Permit me to return and claim that friendship inconsiderately rejected, friendship which for me in the future may take the place of the happiness of a lifetime."
In the evening Augustinovich brought a letter from Yosef. Lula did not wish to open it.
"Do not do him injustice," said Augustinovich, imploringly, "for at the present moment my old friend is perhaps—" Tears choked him, further words stuck in his throat. "These may be his last words I took him to the hospital yesterday," whispered he.
Lula grew as pale as linen. It seemed for a moment that she would faint. In vain did she strive to preserve a calm and cool face, her whole body shook like a leaf. Come what might, she loved Yosef.
She took from Pan Adam’s hand the letter, which read as follows:—
