en had taken a brass lantern from the cupboard and lighted the
lamp in it. As she now handed it to her husband, these three who were
so fondly attached to each other, for the first time dared not look
each other in the face. The little wife cast down her eyes without
uttering a syllable. Leah had risen, still in her hat and traveling
cloak, as she had come. Reinhold's honest face looked strange and
gloomy, framed in its black hair and bushy beard.

He silently took the lantern from Reginchen, and preceded Leah up the
narrow, time begrimmed staircase that led to the store rooms. He did
not address a word to her as she followed close behind him. Not until
they had walked through a large portion of the garret, across whose
ceiling ran heavy beams, and he had turned the key in the door of a low
room, did he pause a moment and say: "I'm taking you into my holy of
holies, Leah."

Then he opened it, crossed the threshold with the light, and allowed
her also to enter.

At the first glance it seemed a mere attic chamber, like hundreds of
others, only perhaps somewhat higher, but as if to make amends for this
the roof sloped the more, the ancient beams, which supported it,
seeming no longer able to do their duty. But as Franzelius set the
lantern on the little black stove and lighted a small lamp, Leah saw
that the walls were covered with neat grey paper, and the few articles
of furniture were kept scrupulously free from dust. The whole end of
the room before the window was filled with something which she did not
instantly recognize. When the lamplight penetrated to the window, she
perceived that it was a turning lathe, and she instantly knew why this
awkward piece of furniture stood in Reinhold's holy of holies. He
seemed to use it for a writing table; a portfolio, books, and writing
materials lay upon it, all in the neatest order. On the right and left
of the single deep window niche, where in the daytime scarcely a ray of
light could fall, two wide carved brackets were fastened to the wall.
The one on the left bore the mask of Michael Angelo's prisoner, the
other a square object, like a small box, covered with a cloth. The room
contained no other furniture, except a small book-case and two plain
cane chairs.

"Won't you sit down, dear Leah?" asked the silent guide, after he had
set down the lamp on the stove beside the lantern. He did not look at
her, but she saw that the hand which had held the little lamp trembled.

"T