t least took great pains to make my drawing correct, but now I
can do no more."

"No, no, not a stroke more, dear Berthold," I exclaimed, "it is almost
incredible how you have made so much progress in such a work within a
few hours. But you exert yourself too much, and are quite lavish of
your power."

"And yet," said Berthold, "these are my happiest hours. Perhaps I
talked too much, but it is only in words that the pain which consumes
my vitals finds a vent."

"You seem to feel very unhappy, my poor friend," said I, "some
frightful event has had an evil influence on your life."

The painter slowly took his materials into the chapel, extinguished the
lights, and coming up to me, seized my hand, and said, in a faltering
voice, "Could you be cheerful, nay, could you have one quiet moment, if
you were conscious of a fearful, irreparable crime?"

I stood perfectly amazed. The bright sunbeams fell on the painter's
pallid, agitated countenance, and he almost looked like a spectre as he
staggered through the little door into the interior of the college.

I could scarcely wait for the hour on the following day, when Professor
Walter had appointed to see me. I told him the whole affair of the
previous night, which had excited me not a little; I described in the
most lively colours the strange conduct of the painter, and did not
suppress a word that he had uttered--not even those, which related to
himself. But the more I hoped for the professor's sympathy, the more
indifferent he appeared; nay, he smiled upon me in a most unpleasant
manner when I continued to talk of Berthold, and pressed him to tell me
all he knew about this unfortunate man.

"He is a strange creature that painter," said the professor, "mild,
good-tempered, sober, industrious, as I told you before, but weak in
his intellect. If he had been otherwise he would never have descended,
even though he did commit a crime, from a great historical painter, to
a poor dauber of walls."

This expression, "dauber of walls," annoyed me as much as the
professor's general indifference. I tried to convince him that
Berthold was even now a most estimable artist, and deserving of the
highest, the most active sympathy.

"Well," said the professor at last, "since you take so much interest in
Berthold you shall hear all that I know of him, and that is not a
little. By way of introduction we will go into the church at once. As
Berthold has worked hard throughout the