rm has brought driving up on its wings. A
gentle and pleasant smile spread over his face, and he said, in a quiet
tone of self-command, to the irritated Master Klingsohr:

"''Nay, good master, I might reply that though I have never studied at
Rome or Paris, nor sought out the wise Arabs in their own distant land,
I have known many singers of fame and skill (to say nothing of my
master, Friedebrand, whom I followed into the heart of Scotland) whose
instruction has much profited me; and that--like yourself--I have
gained the singer's prize at the courts of many of our exalted princes
in Germany. But I hold that all instruction, and all intercourse with
the greatest masters would have availed me nothing, had not the eternal
might of heaven placed within me the spark which has blazed up into the
glorious beams of song; had I not held--and did I not still hold--afar
from me all that is false or base; did I not strive, with all my
strength, to sing nothing other than that which truly fills my heart."

"'And here he began--he scarcely knew how, or why--to sing a glorious
song, in the "Golden Tone," which he had shortly before composed.

"'Master Klingsohr paced up and down full of wrath. Then he paused
before Wolfframb, gazing at him with his fixed, gleaming eyes, as if he
would pierce him through and through. When Wolfframb had ended,
Klingsohr laid his hands on his shoulders, and said, gently and
quietly, "Well, since you will not have it otherwise, Wolfframb, let us
sing against one another, in all the tones and manners. But we will go
elsewhere; this chamber is not fit for the like. Besides, you must
drink a cup of good wine with me."

"'At this instant the little mannikin who had been writing tumbled down
from his stool, and, as he fell hard on to the floor, he gave a little
delicate cry of pain. Klingsohr turned quickly round, and pushed the
little creature with his foot into a sort of cupboard under the desk,
which he closed upon him. Wolfframb heard the mannikin making a low
whimpering and sobbing. After this, Klingsohr shut all the books which
were lying about open; and each time that he closed one, a strange,
awe-inspiring sound, like a death sigh, passed through the room. Next
he took up in his hands wonderful roots; which, as he took them, had
the appearance of strange unearthly creatures, and struggled with their
stems and fibres, as if with arms and legs. Indeed, often a little,
distorted human-looking counten