er who bleeds her. The doctors here are devoted to the Prince of
Orange and are all heretics. There, she is calling again. I'll send the
cloak to your house, and if you ever feel inclined to speak my language,
just knock here. That calling--that everlasting calling! The young lady
suffers from it too."

When Wilhelm entered the street, it was only raining very slightly. The
clouds were beginning to scatter, and from a patch of blue sky the
sun was shining brightly down on Nobelstrasse. A rainbow shimmered in
variegated hues above the roofs, but to-day the musician had no eyes
for the beautiful spectacle. The bright light in the wet street did not
charm him. The hot rays of the day-star were not lasting, for "they drew
rain." All that surrounded him seemed confused and restless. Beside a
beautiful image which he treasured in the sanctuary of his memories,
only allowing his mind to dwell upon it in his happiest hours, sought to
intrude. His real diamond was in danger of being exchanged for a stone,
whose value he did not know. With the old, pure harmony blended another
similar one, but in a different key. How could he still think of
Isabella, without remembering Henrica! At least he had not heard the
young lady sing, so his recollection of Isabella's songs remained
unclouded. He blamed himself because, obeying an emotion of vanity, he
had promised to send new songs to the proud young girl, the friend of
Spain. He had treated Herr Matanesse Van Wibisma rudely on account of
his opinions, but sought to approach her, who laughed at what he prized
most highly, because she was a woman, and it was sweet to hear his work
praised by beautiful lips. "Hercules throws the club aside and sits down
at the distaff, when Omphale beckons, and the beautiful Esther and the
daughter of Herodias--" murmured Wilhelm indignantly. He felt sorely
troubled, and longed for his quiet attic chamber beside the dove-cote.

"Something unpleasant has happened to him in Delft," thought his father.

"Why doesn't he relish his fried flounders to-day?" asked his mother,
when he had left them after dinner. Each felt that something oppressed
the pride and favorite of the household, but did not attempt to discover
the cause; they knew the moods to which he was sometimes subject for
half a day.

After Wilhelm had fed his doves, he went to his room, where he paced
restlessly to and fro. Then he seized his violin and wove all the
melodies be had heard from Isab