ithout opening her eyes, rose, and passed from the
room with the gait of a somnambulist.

Cosmo was now in a state of extravagant delight. Most men have a secret
treasure somewhere. The miser has his golden hoard; the virtuoso his pet
ring; the student his rare book; the poet his favourite haunt; the lover
his secret drawer; but Cosmo had a mirror with a lovely lady in it. And
now that he knew by the skeleton, that she was affected by the things
around her, he had a new object in life: he would turn the bare chamber
in the mirror into a room such as no lady need disdain to call her own.
This he could effect only by furnishing and adorning his. And Cosmo was
poor. Yet he possessed accomplishments that could be turned to account;
although, hitherto, he had preferred living on his slender allowance, to
increasing his means by what his pride considered unworthy of his rank.
He was the best swordsman in the University; and now he offered to give
lessons in fencing and similar exercises, to such as chose to pay
him well for the trouble. His proposal was heard with surprise by the
students; but it was eagerly accepted by many; and soon his instructions
were not confined to the richer students, but were anxiously sought by
many of the young nobility of Prague and its neighbourhood. So that very
soon he had a good deal of money at his command. The first thing he did
was to remove his apparatus and oddities into a closet in the room.
Then he placed his bed and a few other necessaries on each side of the
hearth, and parted them from the rest of the room by two screens of
Indian fabric. Then he put an elegant couch for the lady to lie upon, in
the corner where his bed had formerly stood; and, by degrees, every
day adding some article of luxury, converted it, at length, into a rich
boudoir.

Every night, about the same time, the lady entered. The first time she
saw the new couch, she started with a half-smile; then her face grew
very sad, the tears came to her eyes, and she laid herself upon the
couch, and pressed her face into the silken cushions, as if to hide from
everything. She took notice of each addition and each change as the work
proceeded; and a look of acknowledgment, as if she knew that some
one was ministering to her, and was grateful for it, mingled with the
constant look of suffering. At length, after she had lain down as usual
one evening, her eyes fell upon some paintings with which Cosmo had just
finished adorning