For one second a lamp twinkled through the room, that was shaped like a pointed devil’s ear, impaling the face of the man, who had already turned to go, on the pointed needle of its brilliance. “That sin and suffering are twin-sisters ... you will be sinning against two people, friend....” “What has that to do with you?” “Nothing.... Or—little. Freder is Hel’s son....” “And mine....” “Yes....” “It is he whom I do not wish to lose.” “Better to sin once more?” “Yes.” “And—” “To suffer. Yes.” “Very well, friend,” and in the voice was an inaudible laugh of mockery: “May it happen to you according to your creed...!” * * * * * The girl walked through the passages that were so familiar to her. The bright little lamp in her hand roved over the roof of stone and over the stone walls, where, in niches, the thousand-year-old dead slept. The girl had never known fear of the dead; only reverence and gravity in face of their gravity. To-day she saw neither wall nor dead. She walked on, smiling and not knowing she did it. She felt like singing. With an expression of happiness, which was still incredulous and yet complete, she said the name of her beloved over to herself. Quite softly: “Freder....” And once more: “Freder....” Then she raised her head, listening attentively, standing quite still.... It came back as a whisper: An echo?—No. Almost inaudibly a word was breathed: “Maria....” She turned around, blissfully startled. Was it possible that he had come back? “Freder—!” she called. She listened. No answer. “Freder—!” Nothing. But suddenly there came a cool draught of air which made the hair at her neck quiver, and a hand of snow ran down her back. There came an agonized sigh—a sigh which would not come to an end.... The girl stood still. The bright little lamp which she held in her hand let its gleam play tremblingly about her feet. “Freder...?” Now her voice, too, was only a whisper. No answer. But, behind her, in the depths of the passage she would have to pass through, a gentle, gliding slink became perceptible: feet in soft shoes on rough stones.... That was ... yes, that was strange. Nobody, apart from her, ever came this way. Nobody could be here. And, if somebody were here, then it was no friend.... Certainly nobody whom she wanted to meet. Should she let him by?—yes. A second passage opened to her left. She did not know it well. But she would not follow it up. She would only wait in it until the man outside—the man behind her—had gone by. She pressed herself against the wall of the strange passage, keeping still and waiting quite silently. She did not breathe. She had extinguished the lamp. She stood in utter darkness, immovable.