Panna saw horrible shapes dancing around her, which grasped her with
their icy hands and dragged her away; sometimes it seemed as if her
brother was brought out and a bullet fired into his head; while she was
trying anxiously to find the wound, it was not her brother, but Pista,
who lay there with the hole in his forehead; she wailed aloud and the
dead man rose, seized a brick, and dashed it on her head so that she
fell bleeding; then again it seemed as though it was not she who lay on
the ground in a pool of blood, but Abonyi, who still held the smoking
revolver in his rigid hand; so the frightful dream faces blended in
terrible, spectral changes, one horrible visage drove out another, till
Panna, with a low cry of fear, suddenly started from her troubled
sleep. A heavy hand had grasped her by the shoulder, and a harsh voice
shouted unintelligible words into her ear.
When she opened her eyes, she saw a policeman standing before her,
shaking her and asking what she was doing here. Panna was terribly
startled for a moment, but she quickly regained her presence of mind,
and said:
"My husband is in the jail and will be released early in the morning;
so I came here to wait for him.
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