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 tle of Leipsic, when Max was absent at the University, which was nearly four hundred miles from Rodenstein Castle, there arrived one morning a large case directed to the Baroness. On opening it, it was found to contain a picture—the portrait of her son. The colouring was so vivid, the general execution so miraculous, that for some moments they forgot to wonder at the incident in their admiration of the work of art. In one corner of the picture, in small characters, yet fresh, was an inscription, which on examining they found consisted of these words, "Painted last night. Now, lady, thou hast thy wish." My aunt sunk into the Baron's arms.

"In silence and in trembling the wonderful portrait was suspended over the fire-place of my aunt's most favourite apartment. The next day, they received letters from Max. He was quite well, but mentioned nothing of the mysterious painting.