d those mansions are for him like that hall which
guests have deserted, in which the lights are extinguished, and
through which a man finds his way with a night-lamp--remembering,
as he passes, a spot where had gleamed the naked shoulders of a
beauty; or another, where the faces of joyous comrades had smiled
at him; a third, where had risen the odor of flowers, or the odor
of roast pheasants.

At last, late in the afternoon, Mother Clemens heard a ring in
the antechamber, and ran along the floor in her clattering old
overshoes, hastening to answer the door-bell. On her broad
shoulders was a barred kerchief, in her hand was a needle with a
thick thread, and above her eyes, now growing dim, a second pair
of eyes, which were glass, in spectacles raised to the woman's
wrinkled forehead.

"Hm!" commenced she immediately, "I thought that thou hadst
fastened for the day in some pleasant company; but, Arabian
adventure! thou hast returned before evening. This is well, for
guests have been here, and they will come again shortly."

"Guests?" inquired Kranitski, and his face cleared somewhat, but
briefly, because Clemens snorted.

"Yes, one of them was very important. Be pleased with the honor!
Berek Shyldman! He said that next week, as God is God, he would
sell thy furniture."

Seeing, however, that Kranitski, after he had removed his coat,
dragged his feet through the little drawing-room, and that red
wrinkles came out above his brows, she grew mild and spoke in
better humor:

"But thou mayst take delight in two other guests who came. Great
dandies, and of thy company, though young enough to be thy sons."

"Who were they? who? who? Speak, mother!"

"How can I remember those Arabian names? But they left
cards--wait, I'll bring them this minute--I put them in the
kitchen."

She turned toward the kitchen, but right behind her, stepping
almost on her heels went Kranitski, delighted and impatient, he
almost snatched from her hand two visiting cards, on which he
read the names: Maryan Darvid and Baron Emil Blauendorf.

"Ah!" cried he, "those dear children! The baron has returned
then! And his first thought after returning was of me! What a
heart! I go; I run!"

And, indeed, he ran to the door of the antechamber, radiant,
rejuvenated, but Mother Clemens stood in his way, squaring out
her shoulders in the checkered kerchief.

"Whither art thou going? What for? Is it to meet them on the
steps, or at the gate? They said