seemed to denote a repetition of the place before which they found themselves.
'Madame Mohr," said Vincenz, standing with his hand on the carriage-door, "I beg you to compose yourself. Be so kind as to look at those trees along the road; do they not recall anything to your memory?"
His grave tone arrested the excited words on her lips. She turned and stared back at the eleven acacia-trees which they had passed, six on one side, five on the other.
"There were acacia-trees at Draskócs," she said, looking at them blankly; "but there were a great many more of them, and much higher – a whole avenue."
"And that pond?" said Vincenz, pointing to an oblong piece of water which lay in a hollow outside the wall of planks, its stagnant surface coated thickly with green duckweed, a splendid feast for a waddling flock, but spreading its luscious verdure in superfluous abundance before the solitary inhabitant of the pond. Where the supply so far exceeds the demand, even such delicacies as duckweed are lowered in the estimation of a duck.
"That pond," repeated Ascelinde, obeying Dr Komers without knowing why she did it – "that pond? There was a lake at Draskócs but the shape was rather like this pond, and there used to be swans upon it, – large white swans," she added, looking at the small and very dingy duck that had paddled back to the nearside again, and now stopped to gobble another mouthful of the floating green water-weed.
'And now," said Dr Komers, scanning Madame Mohr's face with some agitation on his own – "and now, will you look at the house a little more carefully; does it remind you of nothing?"
Ascelinde, with a sort of notion that Dr Komers was mad and must be humoured, but with, nevertheless, a faint uneasiness at the bottom of her heart, turned away from the duck-pond and stared at the tumble-down house.
There was a pause of nearly a minute while Ascelinde gazed at the house, while Gretchen looked curiously at the lawyer's face, while the coachman stuffed his pipe with his thumb, and while the dingy duck took two journeys backwards and forwards without any need of hurry. Then Ascelinde looked at Vincenz, and he saw that the uneasiness had risen up steadily, and was now shining out of her eyes.
"I don't understand you," she faltered; "this does – does – not remind me of of Draskócs."
"Look again," he said.
She did look again, blankly at first; but the uneasiness in her eyes turned gradually into real terror. Long, long forgotten memories had begun to whisper, and were whispering louder every minute. That house was not strange to her; it had some place far back in her mind. She felt herself growing cold, but she was a strong woman – she would not give in to this absurdity.
"Dr Komers, why are you keeping us here?" she asked, with an anger which was not quite real. "Why don't you tell the man to drive on to Draskócs?"
"We are at Draskócs already."
Ascelinde turned pale, but she smiled a sickly smile. This was evidently a horrible dream, and it could only need a resolute effort to awake out of it: she had to clear her throat three times before she could speak distinctly.
"Yes, Draskócs," she said, look-
