benevolent-looking man whom I had seen by my bedside was Bendel; the
beautiful lady in black was Minna.

I had been enjoying the advantages of the Schlemihlium without being
recognised; and I learned, further, that I was in Bendel's native
town, where he had employed a part of my once unhallowed gold in
founding an hospital in my name, under his superintendence, and that
its unfortunate inmates daily pronounced blessings on me. Minna had
become a widow: an unhappy lawsuit had deprived Rascal of his life,
and Minna of the greater part of her property. Her parents were no
more; and here she dwelt in widowed piety, wholly devoting herself
to works of mercy.

One day, as she stood by the side of Number Twelve's bed with
Bendel, he said to her, "Noble lady, why expose yourself so
frequently to this unhealthy atmosphere? Has fate dealt so harshly
with you as to render you desirous of death?"

"By no means, Mr. Bendel," she replied; "since I have awoke from my
long dream, all has gone well with me. I now neither wish for death
nor fear it, and think on the future and on the past with equal
serenity. Do you not also feel an inward satisfaction in thus
paying a pious tribute of gratitude and love to your old master and
friend?"

"Thanks be to God, I do, noble lady," said he. "Ah, how wonderfully
has everything fallen out! How thoughtlessly have we sipped joys
and sorrows from the full cup now drained to the last drop; and we
might fancy the past a mere prelude to the real scene for which we
now wait armed by experience. How different has been the reality!