Chapter 32

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The Waking.
When Franz returned to himself, he seemed still to be in a dream.

He thought himself in a sepulchre, into which a ray of sunlight in pity scarcely penetrated.

He stretched forth his hand, and touched stone; he rose to his seat, and found himself lying on his bournous in a bed of dry heather, very soft and odoriferous.

The vision had fled; and as if the statues had been but shadows from the tomb, they had vanished at his waking.