"And why do you call that a folly?" asked Count Schwarzenberg, laughing. "I have always believed that you lived in happy wedlock with your good man." "That may be so, your excellency, but for all that, a lady's maid, who can live independently always commits a folly in submitting to a husband's rule. And I could support myself, for your excellency paid me such a handsome salary, and I was in such favor with your blessed lady. Often, before I stupidly left her to get married, she would call me, and we would talk together of our beautiful home, our beloved Venice. Ah! your excellency, we have often wept together, and longed ardently to behold once more the city of the sea. Whoever comes from there never recovers from homesickness and wherever he goes, and however far he may be removed, his heart still clings to Venice. That the gracious countess often remarked to me, weeping bitterly, which did her good, and--" "You were to tell me when you first saw the White Lady," interrupted Count Schwarzenberg, for he felt uncomfortable at being reminded of his wife, knowing as he did that she had spent but few happy days at his side. "That is true, and I beg your excellency's pardon," replied Mrs. Culwin. Well, then, I saw the White Lady for the first time in the year 1619. I had sat up late at night, for it was a few days before the Christmas festival, and, in accordance with German customs, I wished to make a Christmas present for my husband, but had not finished the piece of embroidery I destined for that purpose. As I sat thus and sewed, I felt as it were a cold breath of air on my cheek, as if some one rapidly moved past me. I looked up startled, and there stood before me a tall, womanly figure, clad in white, looking at me from under her veil with dark, flashing eyes; and then she strode toward the door, but ere she went out she lifted her arms toward heaven, and folded her hands, which were covered with black gloves, fervently together. So she stood for awhile, and then vanished without my seeing the door open or shut. So long as the specter was there I had sat stiff and motionless, as if rooted to the spot; my heart seemed to stand still; I tried to scream, but could not. When she was gone, though, I shrieked fearfully, and my husband hastened to me, to find me in convulsions, and for hours I screamed and wept. My husband, indeed, tried to talk me out of it, and made me promise to speak of the occurrence to no one. But my silence was of no consequence, for the next day it was known to all the inmates of the palace that the White Lady had appeared, for very many had seen her. The old Elector John Sigismund had such a dread of the White Lady, and feared so much that she would appear to him, that he left the castle that very day, and went to the residence of his Chamberlain Freitag. There, however, he died in the course of two days, just two days before Christmas.[25] The White Lady was