Immensee | Page 2

in a slightly southern accent, and the
housekeeper let the curtain fall again.
The old man now passed through the broad hall, through an inner hall,
wherein against the walls stood huge oaken chests bearing porcelain
vases; then through the door opposite he entered a small lobby, from
which a narrow staircase led to the upper rooms at the back of the
house. He climbed the stairs slowly, unlocked a door at the top, and
landed in a room of medium size.
It was a comfortable, quiet retreat. One of the walls was lined with
cupboards and bookcases; on the other hung pictures of men and places;
on a table with a green cover lay a number of open books, and before
the table stood a massive arm-chair with a red velvet cushion.
After the old man had placed his hat and stick in a corner, he sat down
in the arm-chair and, folding his hands, seemed to be taking his rest
after his walk. While he sat thus, it was growing gradually darker; and
before long a moonbeam came streaming through the window- panes
and upon the pictures on the wall; and as the bright band of light passed
slowly onward the old man followed it involuntarily with his eyes.
Now it reached a little picture in a simple black frame. "Elisabeth!" said
the old man softly; and as he uttered the word, time had changed: he
was young again.
* * * * *

THE CHILDREN

Before very long the dainty form of a little maiden advanced toward
him. Her name was Elisabeth, and she might have been five years old.
He himself was twice that age. Round her neck she wore a red silk
kerchief which was very becoming to her brown eyes.
"Reinhard!" she cried, "we have a holiday, a holiday! No school the

whole day and none to-morrow either!"
Reinhard was carrying his slate under his arm, but he flung it behind
the front door, and then both the children ran through the house into the
garden and through the garden gate out into the meadow. The
unexpected holiday came to them at a most happily opportune moment.
It was in the meadow that Reinhard, with Elisabeth's help, had built a
house out of sods of grass. They meant to live in it during the summer
evenings; but it still wanted a bench. He set to work at once; nails,
hammer, and the necessary boards were already to hand.
While he was thus engaged, Elisabeth went along the dyke, gathering
the ring-shaped seeds of the wild mallow in her apron, with the object
of making herself chains and necklaces out of them; so that when
Reinhard had at last finished his bench in spite of many a crookedly
hammered nail, and came out into the sunlight again, she was already
wandering far away at the other end of the meadow.
"Elisabeth!" he called, "Elisabeth!" and then she came, her hair
streaming behind her.
"Come here," he said; "our house is finished now. Why, you have got
quite hot! Come in, and let us sit on the new bench. I will tell you a
story."
So they both went in and sat down on the new bench. Elisabeth took
the little seed-rings out of her apron and strung them on long threads.
Reinhard began his tale: "There were once upon a time three spinning-
women..." [Footnote: The beginning of one of the best known of
Grimm's fairy tales.]
"Oh!" said Elisabeth, "I know that off by heart; you really must not
always tell me the same story."
Accordingly Reinhard had to give up the story of the three spinning-
women and tell instead the story of the poor man who was cast into the
den of lions.
"It was now night," he said, "black night, you know, and the lions were
asleep. But every now and then they would yawn in their sleep and
shoot out their red tongues. And then the man would shudder and think
it was morning. All at once a bright light fell all about him, and when
he looked up an angel was standing before him. The angel beckoned to
him with his hand and then went straight into the rocks."
Elisabeth had been listening attentively. "An angel?" she said. "Had he

wings then?"
"It is only a story," answered Reinhard; "there are no angels, you
know."
"Oh, fie! Reinhard!" she said, staring him straight in the face.
He looked at her with a frown, and she asked him hesitatingly: "Well,
why do they always say there are? mother, and aunt, and at school as
well?"
"I don't know," he answered.
"But tell me," said Elisabeth, "are there no lions either?"
"Lions? Are there lions? In India, yes. The heathen priests