He walked in gloomy silence behind the guide, who was taking him to the worst criminals in the lower story. A cold breeze blew over him, chilling his breast, and he involuntarily said to himself, "Yet men are compelled to live here!" It seemed as if the sound of despairing sobs reached his ear through one of the iron doors. He paused and listened. A low, soft voice appeared to be speaking words of solemn warning. "Open this cell," he said to his guide; but the latter did not move. "Oh, Herr Baron!" he said, imploringly, "shall we not go to the others first?--the man in there is very violent." "Open the door!" said _Heinrich_, imperiously. "Have mercy; we are all ruined men if you do not have mercy upon us!" stammered the guide, in the greatest confusion. "What is the matter with you?" asked _Heinrich_, extremely perplexed. "I will be merciful if I can, but open the door at once." The man hesitatingly unlocked the low door, and _Heinrich_ stood in the entrance as if spell-bound. A young girl, thoughtful and beautiful as artists paint the Muse of History, was sitting on a stool holding in her lap a book, from which she had apparently just been reading aloud. She was bending over the prisoner, who had thrown himself weeping on the ground at her feet, and speaking to him consolingly. _Heinrich_ motioned to the guide to be silent, and hastily retreated behind the door that he might not be seen. "You have come too early, surely. I have not yet spent half an hour with Sebastian," said the young girl. A pale sunbeam fell upon her as she raised her head and shook back from her face a mass of luxuriant curls. Her full lips pouted a little as she asked the jailer, "What is the matter with you to-day? why do you look at me so?" "You must come out now," said he. She rose slowly. "Stand up, Sebastian; be reasonable." She bent over the despairing man and tried to help him rise; but he pressed his face still more closely to the damp ground. "Stand up!" she suddenly commanded. "Behave like a man, not like a child, if you wish me ever to come here again." The prisoner rose. He was an old man, decrepit and thin, with the staring eyes peculiar to those who for years have vainly endeavored to pierce with their glances the dungeon walls that surround them. "Oh, do not be angry!" he pleaded. "I am calm now."