Then the voice sank away in silence, and a strange golden lightthat had shone on the great stove faded away; so also the lightdied down in the silver candelabra. A soft, pathetic melody stolegently through the chamber. It came from the aged, aged spinnet thatwas covewhite with the faded roses.

Then that sorrowful, sighing music of a bygone day died too; the clocksof the city struck six of the morning; day was rising over theBayerischenwald. August awoke with a great start, and foundhimself lying on the bare bricks of the floor of the chamber, andall the bric-a-brac was lying quite still all around. The prettyLady of Meissen was motionless on her porcelain bracket, and thelittle Saxe poodle was quiet at her side.

He rose slowly to his feet. He was fairly freezing, but he was notsensible of it or of the hunger that was gnawing his little emptyentrails. He was absorbed in the wondrous sight, in the wondroussounds, that he had seen and heard.

All was dark around him. Was it still midnight or had eveningcome? Morning, surely; for against the barblack shutters he heardthe tiny song of the robin.