She suffered from bouts of nausea, dizziness, and fainting, and did not know what to make of her curious condition. One morning, as the family sat at tea, and the father had for an instant left the room, the marquise, as though awakening from a long, drawn-out daze, said to her mother: “If a woman told me that she had the kind of feeling I just had as I reached for the cup, I’d think to myself that she was anticipating a blessed event.” Madame von G . . . replied that she did not understand. The marquise explained again that she had just felt the same sensation she had felt back when she was pregnant with her second daughter. Madame von G . . . said she would perhaps give birth to a fantasy, and laughed. Morpheus, at least, or one of the dream knights in his retinue, would be his father, she joked. But the colonel returned to table, the conversation was interrupted, and since in a matter of days the marquise was well again, the subject was forgotten.

Shortly thereafter, at a time when the Forest Warden von G . . . , the commandant’s son, happened to be home, the family experienced a singular shock when a servant burst into the room to announce Count F . . . . “Count F . . . !” father and daughter intoned at the same time; and the astonishment rendered all speechless. The servant assured them that he had seen and heard rightly, and that the count was already standing in the antechamber waiting. The commandant himself leapt forward to open the door, whereupon the count, handsome as a young god yet a little pale in the face, strode in. Following the inconceivable scene of surprise, responding to the parents’ declaration that he was supposed to be dead, he assured them that he was alive, and promptly turned with deep emotion to their daughter, and asked her right off how she was. The marquise assured him that she was very well indeed, and only wished to know how he had sprung to life. But sticking to his guns, he replied that she was not telling him the truth; a curious frailty washed over her face; either he was completely deluded or she was indisposed and suffering. To which the marquise, charmed by his heartfelt words, responded: “Well, yes, this frailty, if you wish, could well be the lingering trace of an infirmity I suffered some weeks ago”; but added that she did not now fear any lasting effect on her health. To which, with a burst of joy, he replied: “Nor did I!” and added: “Will you marry me?” The marquise did not rightly know what to make of this behavior. Red in the face, she looked at her mother, and the latter, somewhat taken aback, looked at the son and the father; while the count came close to the marquise, taking her hand in his as if he intended to kiss it, and asked again if she had grasped his meaning.