Johann Gruber, who in his lifetime had traveled much with his master, found a large chest in another corner, the like of those he had so often packed, and made himself comfortable therein; for upon this first night no seance was in progress. They soon found that their post was far from easy. Each had his hands full of work. Here, he had to slip into some table and answer the oddest questions; there, he must respond to some crafty or self-deceived medium, or if it were desired, materialize--as the technical term is--and personate this or that well-known individual to gratify the pious curiosity of his surviving friends. These nightly labors were so fatiguing to both that when they returned to their quarters, and without waiting even to exchange "good-night," slipped into their corners to sleep, they wished themselves back in the state they had left. Indeed, they would probably have renounced the service after a few weeks, had not the arrival of Frau Cordula and her daughter altered the condition of affairs. From the first, the wine-seller conceived so violent an attachment for the fair, slender girl, that the thought of leaving her for the loveless world of spirit was not to be tolerated. In his lifetime he had been known as a ladies' man; and although he had exchanged his carnal nature for a spiritual existence, he, like all poor souls who hover over the spot where in life they have buried their treasure, could not leave this child of earth, unresponsive though she must ever be to his affection. It happened, too, that Johann Gruber, passing one day by accident through a retired street, met an old flame, in the person of the cook who had served in the house of his master. As comely as ever, she formed a new bond to connect him with this earthly sphere. From that day he ceased to chaff his infatuated colleague. Instead of ridicule, a fine ear could now have heard for many a night a duet of tender sighs resounding from the walls of the dark coach-house, and accompanied by the rustling and scrambling of the little mice. This state of affairs had continued for nearly a year when, one moonlight night, the spirit of Johann Gruber turned homeward from a tiresome day's work. Sleepy though he was, he took a roundabout way, past a certain house, on the ground floor of which his early love had opened a tap-room. Possibly he was further attracted by the winey fragrance which had, in his lifetime exerted a powerful influence over him. He raised himself to a level with the window, the upper sash of which was open, and perching himself upon the crosspiece, took a survey of the room. A stout woman sat behind the bar, and nodded over her knitting, from which she occasionally drew a needle and scratched her frowsy head, yawning the while and rubbing her small, watery eyes.