Nobody wept, tears would have been an affectation.  The Countess was so old that her death could have surprised nobody, and her relatives had long looked upon her as being out of the world.  A famous preacher delivered the funeral sermon.  In simple and touching words he described the peaceful passing away of the righteous, who had passed long years in calm preparation for a Christian end.  “The angel of death found her,” said the orator, “engaged in pious meditation and waiting for the midnight bridegroom.”

The service concluded amidst profound silence.  The relatives went forward first to take a farewell of the corpse.  Then followed the numerous guests, who had come to render the last homage to her who for so many years had been a participator in their frivolous amusements.  After these followed the members of the Countess’s household.  The last of these an old woman of the same age as the deceased.  Two young women led her forward by the hand.  She had not strength enough to bow down to the ground—­she merely shed a few tears, and kissed the cold hand of the mistress.

Herman now resolved to approach the coffin.  He knelt down upon the cold stones, and remained in that position for some minutes; at last he arose as pale as the deceased Countess herself; he ascended the steps of the catafalque and bent over the corpse....  At that moment it seemed to him that the dead woman darted a mocking look at him and winked with one eye.  Hermann started back, took a false step, and fell to the ground.  Several persons hurried forward and raised him up.  At the same moment Lizaveta Ivanovna was borne fainting into the porch of the church.  This episode disturbed for some minutes the solemnity of the gloomy ceremony.  Among the congregation arose a deep murmur, and a tall, thin chamberlain, a near relative of the deceased, whispered in the ear of an Englishman, who was standing near him, that the young officer was a natural son of the Countess, to which the Englishman coldly replied “Oh!”

During the whole of that day Hermann was strangely excited.  Repairing to an out of the way restaurant to dine, he drank a great deal of wine, contrary to his usual custom, in the hope of deadening his inward agitation.  But the wine only served to excite his imagination still more.  On returning home he threw himself upon his bed without undressing, and fell into a deep sleep.

When he woke up it was already night, and the moon was shining into the room.  He looked at his watch:  it was a quarter to three.  Sleep had left him; he sat down upon his bed, and thought of the funeral of the old Countess.

At that moment somebody in the street looked in at his window and immediately passed on again.  Hermann paid no attention to this incident.  A few moments afterwards he heard the door of his anteroom open.  Hermann thought that it was his orderly, drunk as usual, returning from some nocturnal expedition, but presently he heard footsteps that were unknown to him:  somebody was walking softly over the floor in slippers.  The door opened, and a woman dressed in white entered the room.  Hermann mistook her for his old nurse, and wondered what could bring her there at that hour of the night.  But the white woman glided rapidly across the room and stood before him—­and Hermann thought he recognized the Countess.