The jailer nodded, stepped back into the corridor, closed the door behind him and locked it.
The young man flung aside the cloak which shrouded his figure.

What did this mean?
He wore Kolbielsky's livery; from his dress he appeared to be his servant, yet he was not the man whom he had had in his service for years.
Kolbielsky had the strength to go a few steps forward.
"Who are you ?" he asked in a low tone.

"Good heavens, who are you ?" The youth flung off his hat and rushed toward Kolbielsky.

"Who am I?
I ?" he cried exultingly.

"Look at me and say who I am." A cry, a single cry escaped Kolbielsky's lips, then seizing the youth's slender figure in his arms, he bore it to the window.
The first rays of the rising sun were shining in and fell upon the young man's face.
Oh, blessed be thou, radiant sun, for thou bringest eternal life, thou bringest love.
"It is she! It is my Leonore! My love, my--" He could say no more.