"
"Have you any complaint to make now?" inquired Mr. Fabian, anxiously.
Mr. Fabian was in a state of fearful suspense. The air to him appeared
populated with evil spirits.
"I did not speak thus for the purpose of troubling you, dear Fabian, it
would not be just for me to choose this moment, when you feel so
repentant, to remind you of other moments when you do not seem impressed
with the worth of your wife."
"Yes, yes, that would indeed be cruel, for it is true, really true,
that--that--"
"What, Fabian, good Fabian?"
"That I never before have so much esteemed and adored you, my dear,
dear--" He was unable to proceed.
"Ah! Fabian, that is the true spirit. You at last understand how happy
you are."
"Yes, as happy as the condemned sinner," sighed Fabian; but in such a
manner that his wife heard the first word only.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE FESTIVAL.
The next morning, when Gottlieb awoke, he discovered that he had a
visitor even at that early hour of the day. His uncle Fabian was pacing
backward and forward at the side of his nephew's bed, with a countenance
so wretched and woe begone, that Gottlieb could not but pity him.
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