He spoke with his usual precision, as if reciting a lesson. There was no light in his eyes and the moment he was done talking his face became stolid and set like one who has said his part and was glad to be done with it. The patroon was a good actor, and yet there were times when a child could see through his artifice. As he turned to the dwarf, Louis’ face, which a moment before had been strangely contorted, instantly grew impassive. I conceived the idea that he had been making signs, wishing to convey some secret intelligence to me. Whereupon I resolved to give him a chance to speak to me in private if he chose to do so. “By my soul, St. Vincent!” exclaimed the patroon. “You have slept late.” “Have I? Indeed, I do not know what time it is,” I answered, scarce knowing what to say. The patroon was so ill at ease, so manifestly acting a part, that I knew it behooved me to be careful and not to lose my temper. “It is hard upon the hour of noon,” he continued. “Come, come; you shall break your fast royally despite the hour.” We set out along the corridor, which was dimly lighted and echoed the sound of our footsteps in a gloomy manner. This was the time to test the dwarf, and to find out what he had to communicate to me. “I have forgotten my sword,” I cried to him. “Will you fetch it?” Without a moment’s hesitation the dwarf started back towards my room. I can see him yet, almost running in his quick, mincing steps, his half-bent arms dipping to the same time, and his ill-shaped head and flowing locks of white hair all bobbing together in unison. Yet for all this apparent haste he progressed no faster than an ordinary walk. I let him proceed but a short distance when I made some excuse to the patroon and followed his henchman to my room. When I got there, Louis was already bending over my bed, where my sword lay. One arm was up and one heel slightly off the ground, as if he had suddenly been arrested in the midst of his capricious way of walking. I touched him on the shoulder and he collapsed with startled fear. Evidently he had not heard me approach. “Louis,” I said, “that was a strange promise you made to me last night. What did you mean by it?” Suddenly his whole figure was transformed. I saw this change often in the next few weeks, but then it was new to me and almost took my breath away. When Louis walked he seemed all joints and quivering elastic bands. Now, like a flash, he turned to stone—nay, to steel and iron. Every tremor of his body vanished. Every line in his face, the very droop of his hair made one feel as if the Gorgon’s head had been thrust before him. Then he gripped my hand, and I winced inwardly from the pain of it.