Aniela had clutched my hand
and held it fast; then all at once a terrible fear shone in her face,
and she cried out:--
"You are wounded?"
I understood at once what was the matter, and said,--
"Not in the least. I was not at the accident at all. I got the blood
on my hand from the carriage, which had been used for the wounded."
"Is it true, quite true?"
"Quite true."
"What train was it that was wrecked?" asked my aunt.
"The train coming from Zell am See."
"Oh, good God! A telegram came to say it was the Vienna train. It
almost killed me. Oh, God, what happiness! Praise be to God!"
My aunt began wiping the perspiration from her face. Aniela was as
white as a sheet. She released my hand, and turned her head aside to
hide her tears and twitching mouth.
"We were alone in the house," continued my aunt. "Kromitzki had gone
with some Belgians to Nassfeld. The landlord came and told us about
the accident on the line, and you can well imagine what state I was
in, knowing you were coming by that same line. I sent the landlord at
once for a carriage, and this dear child would not let me go alone.
What a terrible time it has been for us! Thank God, we escaped with a
mere fright. Did you see the wounded?"
I kissed my aunt's and Aniela's hands, and told them what I had seen
at Lend-Gastein. It appeared that the telegram sent to the Kurhaus was
thus expressed: "Railway accident at Lend-Gastein; many killed and
wounded.
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