d and continued the
inquisition gaily. He next wished to know who was dearer to the heart of
the housekeeper, the assistant or her late husband, to which she rejoined
"Why should I lament Vorkel? He was a bully, who never could learn how to
cut out a coat, and always stole his customers' cloth." At that moment
there was an ominous crash on the floor, and a powerful odour filled the
laboratory; the phial had slipped from the hands of the frightened woman.

What happened after that Frau Vorkel even in her old age shuddered to
recall. How it could have been possible for the amiable and pious Court
apothecary to give utterance to such objurgations and invectives, such
sacrilegious curses and anathemas, and how she, a respectable and proper
woman, of good Leipsic people, ever could have allowed herself to attack
any one, least of all her excellent master, in such abusive language were
problems she could never solve.

Yet they must not be censured for their use of Billingsgate, for the
strong aroma of the elixir forced them to tear aside the veil which in
Leipsic, as elsewhere, clothes the ugly truth as with a pleasing garment,
and to lay bare all the rancour that filled their hearts.

Later when she thought about the breaking of the phial, the conviction
grew upon her limited intelligence that this accident would perhaps prove
in the end to be the best thing that could have happened, not only for
her but for all mankind. To her excellent master, at least, the Elixir of
Truth proved fatal all too soon; the intense excitement of that night had
shaken him so cruelly that before the day dawned the feeble flame of his
life had flickered out.

Frau Vorkel found him dead the next morning in his laboratory. He must
have gone thither to seek once more for the lost substance after she had
helped him to bed. Before he had begun his work he must have wished to
encourage himself by a glance at the portrait of his grandchild, for as
she opened the door the sheet of paper with the red crayon drawing was
wafted from the open chest, beside which her master had fallen, and like
a butterfly, fluttered down upon the heart that had ceased to beat
several hours before.

Six months after the death of the Court apothecary, Melchior Ueberhell
returned home and Frau Vorkel or, as she must now be called, Frau
Schimmel, was the only person to whom he wrote to announce the hour of
his arrival in Leipsic.

In his letter the young doctor begged her