ers, those which she knew her father made use
of for the drinks and drops he was fond of distilling. Waldemar Daae
was arrogant and conceited, but also he had a great deal of knowledge.
Everybody knew that, and everybody talked in whispers about it. Even
in summer a fire burned in his private cabinet; its doors were always
locked. He passed days and nights there, but he spoke little about his
pursuits. The mysteries of nature are studied in silence. He expected
soon to discover its greatest secret--the transmutation of other
substances into gold.

"It was for this that smoke was ever issuing from the chimney of his
laboratory; for this that sparks and flames were always there. And I
was there too," said the wind. "'Hollo, hollo!' I sang through the
chimney. There were steam, smoke, embers, ashes. 'You will burn
yourself up--take care, take care!' But Waldemar Daae did _not_ take
care.

"The splendid horses in the stables, what became of them?--the silver
and the gold plate, the cows in the fields, the furniture, the house
itself? Yes, they could be smelted--smelted in the crucibles; and yet
no gold was obtained.

"All was empty in the barns and in the pantry, in the cellars and in
the loft. The fewer people, the more mice. One pane of glass was
cracked, another was broken. I did not require to go in by the door,"
said the wind. "When the kitchen chimney is smoking, dinner is
preparing; but there the smoke rolled from the chimney for that which
devoured all repasts--for the yellow gold.

"I blew through the castle gate like a warder blowing his horn; but
there was no warder," said the wind. "I turned the weathercock above
the tower--it sounded like a watchman snoring inside the tower; but no
watchman was there--it was only kept by rats and mice. Poverty
presided at the table--poverty sat in the clothes' chests and in the
store-rooms. The doors fell off their hinges--there came cracks and
crevices everywhere. I went in, and I went out," said the wind;
"therefore I knew what was going on.

"Amidst smoke and ashes--amidst anxiety and sleepless nights--Waldemar
Daae's hair had turned grey; so had his beard and the thin locks on
his forehead; his skin had become wrinkled and yellow, his eyes ever
straining after gold--the expected gold.

"I whisked smoke and ashes into his face and beard: debts came instead
of gold. I sang through the broken windows and cracked walls--came
moaning in to the daughter's cheerless room,