embers, and shut the two enormous bolts on the door,
threw herself upon her bed, where she was soon dreaming that she
was dying of fright.

Meanwhile the terrors of this winter's night had increased.
Sometimes, with the whirlpools of the river, the wind engulfed
itself among the piles, and the whole house shivered and shook;
but the young girl, absorbed in her sadness, thought only of her
father. After hearing what Aubert told her, the malady of Master
Zacharius took fantastic proportions in her mind; and it seemed
to her as if his existence, so dear to her, having become purely
mechanical, no longer moved on its worn-out pivots without
effort.

Suddenly the pent-house shutter, shaken by the squall, struck
against the window of the room. Gerande shuddered and started up
without understanding the cause of the noise which thus disturbed
her reverie. When she became a little calmer she opened the sash.
The clouds had burst, and a torrent-like rain pattered on the
surrounding roofs. The young girl leaned out of the window to
draw to the shutter shaken by the wind, but she feared to do so.
It seemed to her that the rain and the river, confounding their
tumultuous waters, were submerging the frail house, the planks of
which creaked in every direction. She would have flown from her
chamber, but she saw below the flickering of a light which
appeared to come from Master Zacharius's retreat, and in one of
those momentary calms during which the elements keep a sudden
silence, her ear caught plaintive sounds. She tried to shut her
window, but could not. The wind violently repelled her, like a
thief who was breaking into a dwelling.

Gerande thought she would go mad with terror. What was her father
doing? She opened the door, and it escaped from her hands, and
slammed loudly with the force of the tempest. Gerande then found
herself in the dark supper-room, succeeded in gaining, on tiptoe,
the staircase which led to her father's shop, and pale and
fainting, glided down.

The old watchmaker was upright in the middle of the room, which
resounded with the roaring of the river. His bristling hair gave
him a sinister aspect. He was talking and gesticulating, without
seeing or hearing anything. Gerande stood still on the threshold.

"It is death!" said Master Zacharius, in a hollow voice; "it is
death! Why should I live longer, now that I have dispersed my
existence over the earth? For I, Master, Zacharius, am really the
creator o