written. A ghastly pallor overspread
his face; his eyes were wild, his breathing came both quick and hard.
The fire cast nickering lights over his face and on the outlines of his
lank figure under the scarlet mantle which had been cast over him. One
corner of it was cast aside, as if for air or coolness, and I could see a
thing which gave me a cold chill in the marrow of my spine.

My father still wore the dress which he only donned when some poor soul
was about to die and pay the forfeit.

At first Gottfried took no notice of me whatever, but lay looking at the
ceiling, his lips muttering something steadily, though what the words
were I could not hear.

"Father," I said at last, bending over him gently, "I have come to see
you."

He turned to me, as if suddenly and regretfully summoned back from very
far away. It was a movement I had seen in many dying men. He looked at
me, a strange, luminous comprehension growing up gradually in his eyes.

"Hugo," he said, "you have come home at last! The Little Playmate has
come home, too. We three will make a merry party in the old Red Tower. We
have not been all together for so long. Lord Christ, but I have been a
man much alone! Hugo, why did you leave me so long? Ah, well, I do not
blame you, my son. You have been pushing your fortunes, doubtless, and
you have--so they tell me--become a great man in Plassenburg. And the
little maid is a lady of honor, and very fair to see. But now you two
have come to the old garret, like birds homing to the nest."

"Yes, father," I said to him, "we have both come home to you, the Little
Playmate and I. And now you will give us your blessing!"

"The Little Playmate--say rather the Little Princess," he cried,
cheerfully, as, with the air of one who brings good tidings, he sat up in
bed. Then he pointed to a chair on which a pillow had carelessly been
flung. "Little Maid," he said, looking at the cushion as if it had been
Helene, "I am glad you have come back to be wedded to my boy. That was
like you. I ever wished it, indeed. But I never expected to see my
children thus happy. Yet I always knew you and Hugo were made for each
other. You are at your sewing, little maid. Well, 'tis natural. I mind me
when my own love sat making dainties of just such delicate and wreathed
whiteness."

He paused, and then, his countenance suddenly changing, he looked
fearfully and fixedly at the chair.

"But, little maid, my own Helene," he cried, in a lou