anything more against me."

The people stood crowding around her. They were amazed; they listened
and looked this way and that, and no one knew what should next be done.
"Bear her on to her rest," said the girl. "She has done her part; she
has suffered, and cannot now remain any more amongst us." The bier moved
on, Nanny now following it; and thus they reached the church and the
chapel.

So now stood the coffin of Ottilie, with the child's coffin at her head,
and her box at her feet, inclosed in a resting-place of massive oak. A
woman had been provided to watch the body for the first part of the
time, as it lay there so beautiful beneath its glass covering. But Nanny
would not permit this duty to be taken from herself. She would remain
alone without a companion, and attend to the lamp which was now kindled
for the first time; and she begged to be allowed to do it with so much
eagerness and perseverance, that they let her have her way, to prevent
any greater evil that might ensue.

But she did not long remain alone. As night was falling, and the hanging
lamp began to exercise its full right and shed abroad a larger lustre,
the door opened and the Architect entered the chapel. The chastely
ornamented walls in the mild light looked more strange, more awful, more
antique, than he was prepared to see them. Nanny was sitting on one side
of the coffin. She recognized him immediately; but she pointed in
silence to the pale form of her mistress. And there stood he on the
other side, in the vigor of youth and of grace, with his arms drooping,
and his hands clasped piteously together, motionless, with head and eye
inclined over the inanimate body.

Once already he had stood thus before in the Belisarius; he had now
involuntarily fallen into the same attitude. And this time how
naturally! Here, too, was something of inestimable worth thrown down
from its high estate. _There_ were courage, prudence, power, rank, and
wealth in one single man, lost irrevocably; there were qualities which,
in decisive moments, had been of indispensable service to the nation and
the prince; but which, when the moment was passed, were no more valued,
but flung aside and neglected, and cared for no longer. And _here_ were
many other silent virtues, which had been summoned but a little time
before by nature out of the depths of her treasures, and now swept
rapidly away again by her careless hand--rare, sweet, lovely virtues,
whose peaceful workings th