But the messenger answers sorrowfully, “Thou hast no pass!” and rides away, and the snow-white mantle and the snow-white steed flit along through the brooding shadows till, in the distance, they are lost from view. And Rudolph, the Czar, straining his eyes to follow them, is suddenly startled by a loud, mocking laugh that rings weirdly up and down the dark defile; and, turning, he sees standing behind him the tall, gaunt personage in black; and the sight of that muffled figure so fills him with terror, that he rises and hastens away as fast as his feeble limbs can carry him. And now there comes to him remembrance of a place where, when he was a boy, he rested well and slept undisturbed; and onward he journeys by land and sea, pausing not till he reaches his native town and has found the humble cottage where he used to dwell. He creeps softly to the window and peers in. It is all there, just as it used to be—the cupboard in this corner; the chintz-covered lounge in that; the simple brown paper on the wall; the window-curtains of muslin; the clock on the mantel; the clean, white floor; the polished stove; the vapor curling from the spout of the shining tea-kettle—all there, so comfortable, so cosy, so homelike! But the people are strangers. That is not little Karl playing on the floor; that is not the mother knitting in the rocking-chair. And Rudolph, the Czar, weeps again, remembering how the last words he had for them were harsh words, and that he is never to see them more. At length he knocks at the door and explains to the master of the house— “I am a feeble old man, in agony of weariness for lack of sleep; for I have traveled far and searched long, but have found no place where I might rest in peace. And I finally bethought me of a low room under a sloping roof, where, in my childhood, I rested well and undisturbed. The roof above is that same sloping roof, and beneath it is that chamber. And I will give to thee, good sir, all the gold in my purse—and there is much gold in it—if I may lodge there for one night only, and sleep once more as I slept when I was a lad.” And the good man of the house bids him enter and welcome, but refuses the proffered gold. And Rudolph, the Czar, climbs up the narrow stairs to the low room under the sloping roof, and he lies down there, forgetting to look for the lifted sword, and he closes his weary eyes, and a delicious drowsiness steals over him, and there is no fear in his heart, and nothing molests him, and at last he sleeps, sleeps, sleeps. * * * * *