lamp fell upon his face. I cried out, in amazement; I tried to jump up, but my legs were too heavy. There he stood at the door. It was—my friend!
For a few moments the silence was unbroken. Not uttering a word, he stood motionless, while I could not turn my eyes away from him. His face was deadly pale; but the clear blue eyes were sparkling with life, and a light, kindly smile played about his lips.
“Good evening,” he said, after a while, and stepped forward a little. Hearing the clatter of a sabre, I noticed that he was dressed as a military officer.
“Why, are you not dead?” I asked, astonished.
“How can I be dead, and stand before you?” he replied, with his clear, agreeable voice,
“Am I asleep or awake?” I uttered forcedly. “Did I not see you dying and dead,—at Nechanice, with your skull cut in two?”
“Possibly you saw me, and possibly you saw some one else,” was the answer of my unexpected guest; “but now you see me standing before you, safe and alive,—there can be no doubt. Here is my hand!”
I hesitated a moment, but finally shook hands with him; and I found that his hand was not cold, but as warm as formerly.
“You complied with my last request,” my friend continued, “and I have kept my word; I have come to see you.”
“But how is all this possible?” I inquired, diffidently.
“It is all very simple,” he answered; “but please allow me to sit down, and I shall briefly tell you everything; for I have no time to lose.”
Silently I drew a chair nearer, and my friend sat down by me. “Well?” I asked.
“Doubtless you saw only an officer who looked like me when you were at Nechanice. It was First Lieutenant Jiruš, who was seriously wounded in the battle of Probluz and died at Nechanice, as I learned afterward. The mistake was possible only because he resembled me; that’s all.”
“But how was it possible that my letter to you was found on him?”
