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188 we followed the sacristan, who, by his paleness and trembling, betrayed a very decided aversion to his present employment. I know not, if any one in this party has ever stood at midnight before the grated door of a burial vault, beholding the piles of leaden shrines, in which are deposited the mouldering remains of a distinguished train of ancestors. But it is certain that, at such a moment, even the rattling of the keys in their locks makes a deep and mysterious impression;—that when the door is forced open, one feels at the grating of the rusty hinges as if he were committing a fearful crime, and is glad to linger on the threshold, before he enters into the dark abode of the dead. The Count experienced all these emotions as much as any one could do. This, I perceived by the deep sigh—almost a groan—which he heaved as we stood there. He controlled his agitation, however, by a great effort; did not allow himself to look at the other coffins, but went directly to that of his daughter, of which he lifted up the cover with his own hands. ‘Did I not say so?’ I exclaimed, as on the first instant we perceived that the body had so precisely the features of Libussa, that I was obliged to withhold