the door of the room looking out
on the court. His eyes beheld a wonderful sight.

The Goose Man was sitting playing with Agnes and little Gottfried. He
had cut silhouettes from bright coloured paper and made them stand up on
the table by bending back the edge of the paper. There he sat, pushing
these figures into each other, and making such droll remarks that Agnes,
who had never in her life really laughed, laughed now with all her
heart, and like the child that she in truth still was.

Little Gottfried could only prattle and clap his hands. The Goose Man
had placed him on the table. Whenever he made a false or awkward move,
the Goose Man would set him right. He seemed to be especially skilled at
handling and amusing children.

When Daniel came in, the Goose Man got up and went over to him, greeted
him, and said in a kindly, confidential tone: "Are you back so soon? We
have had such a nice time!"

In the room, however, there was the same haze that had settled down over
the city when Daniel left the fountain. Agnes and Gottfried were seized
with a terrible fear. The boy began to cry; Agnes threw her arms around
him and cried too.

Daniel went up to them, and said: "Don't cry! I'm with you. You don't
need to cry any more!"

He sat down on the same seat on which the Goose Man had been sitting,
looked at the tiny paper figures, and, smiling, continued the game the
Goose Man had been playing with them.

Gottfried became quiet and Agnes happy.

"Good-night!" cried the Goose Man, "now I am again myself, and you are
you."

He nodded kindly and disappeared.

VI

That same evening six of Daniel's pupils came in. They had heard that he
had been removed from his position at the conservatory.

It was not a mere rumour. Andreas Doederlein had had him discharged. He
was also relieved of his post as organist at St. AEgydius's. The scandal
with which he had been associated, and which was by this time known to
the entire city, had turned the church authorities against him.

The six pupils came into his room where he was playing with his
children. One of them, who had been chosen as their spokesman, told him
that they had made up their minds not to leave him; they were anxious to
have him continue the instruction he had been giving them.

They were clever, vivacious young chaps. In their eyes was an enthusiasm
that had not yet been dimmed either by cowardice or conceit.

"I am not go