ur father worked for thirty years.

When I arrived, in the holidays, I noted a change in our father's
countenance. His beard was white, even when he did not work with the
plaster. Through his strong spectacles his eyes glittered peculiarly.
He was less calm than formerly. And he did not speak much, but all the
more did he read.

Why, we all knew that after the passing away of our mother he became a
bookworm, reading very often by candlelight until morning.

Then did it happen, about the fourth day after my arrival. I spent my
leisure hours in the studio; I carved little figures, formed little
pillar heads from the white plaster. In the corner a big barrel stood
filled with water. It was noon; the laborers went to lunch.

I sat down close to the barrel and carved a Corinthian pillar. Father
came into the studio and did not notice me. He carried in his hands
two plates of soup. When he came into the studio he closed the door
behind him and looked around in the shop, as though to make sure he
was not observed. As I have said, he did not notice me. I was
astonished. Holding my breath, I listened. Father went through the
large hall, and then opened a small door, of which I knew only so much
that it led into a chamber three steps lower than the studio.

I was full of expectation. I listened. I did not hear a word of
conversation. Presently father came back with the empty plates in his
hand. Somebody bolted the chamber's door behind him.

Father went out of the studio, and I, much embarrassed, crept from
behind the barrel.

I knew that the chamber had a window, which looked back toward the
plowed fields. I ran out of the studio and around the house. Much to
my astonishment, the chamber's window was curtained inside. A large
yellow plaid curtain hid everything from view. But I had to go,
anyway, for I heard Irma's voice calling from the yard:

"Antal, to lunch!"

I sat down to the table with you, my sisters, and looked at father. He
was sitting at the head of the table, and ate without saying a word.

Day after day I troubled my head about this mystery in the chamber,
but said not a word to anybody. I went into the studio, as usual, but
I did not notice anything peculiar. Not a sound came from the chamber,
and when our father worked in the shop with his ten laborers he passed
by the small door as if beyond it there was nothing out of the
ordinary.

On Thursday I had to go back to Germany. On Tuesday night curiosity