side.  The door had closed with a spring, and he could not open it.  He pushed at it with all his might, but it would not yield.  Oh, how gladly would he have been a spirit, to escape through its cracks!  In vain.  He hid his face against the panels.  Ottilie entered, and the hostess, seeing him, retired.  From Ottilie herself, too, he could not remain concealed for a moment.  He turned toward her; and there stood the lovers once more, in such strange fashion, in each other’s presence.  She looked at him calmly and earnestly, without advancing or retiring.  He made a movement to approach her, and she withdrew a few steps toward the table.  He stepped back again.  “Ottilie!” he cried aloud, “Ottilie! let me break this frightful silence!  Are we shadows, that we stand thus gazing at each other?  Only listen to me; listen to this at least.  It is an accident that you find me here thus.  There is a letter on the table, at your side there, which was to have prepared you.  Read it, I implore you—­read it—­and then determine as you will!”

She looked down at the letter; and after thinking a few seconds, she took it up, opened it, and read it:  she finished it without a change of expression; and she laid it lightly down; then joining the palms of her hands together, turning them upward, and drawing them against her breast, she leant her body a little forward, and regarded Edward with such a look, that, eager as he was, he was compelled to renounce everything he wished or desired of her.  Such an attitude cut him to the heart; he could not bear it.  It seemed exactly as if she would fall upon her knees before him, if he persisted.  He hurried in despair out of the room, and leaving her alone, sent the hostess in to her.

He walked up and down the antechamber.  Night had come on, and there was no sound in the room.  At last the hostess came out and drew the key out of the lock.  The good woman was embarrassed and agitated, not knowing what it would be proper for her to do.  At last as she turned to go, she offered the key to Edward, who refused it; and putting down the candle, she went away.

In misery and wretchedness, Edward flung himself down on the threshold of the door which divided him from Ottilie, moistening it with his tears as he lay.  A more unhappy night had been seldom passed by two lovers in such close neighborhood!

Day came at last.  The coachman brought round the carriage, and the hostess unlocked the door and went in.  Ottilie was asleep in her clothes; she went back and beckoned to Edward with a significant smile.  They both entered and stood before her as she lay; but the sight was too much for Edward.  He could not bear it.  She was sleeping so quietly that the hostess did not like to disturb her, but sat down opposite her, waiting till she woke.  At last Ottilie opened her beautiful eyes, and raised herself on her feet.  She declined taking any breakfast, and then Edward went in again and stood before her.