"If it has been cut?" repeated Struvelius, sharply. "It _has_ been cut from it. And what you have communicated to me about this concealed treasure at Rossau was very indefinite and I am not of the opinion that much value is to be attached to it. If, in reality, there was a manuscript of Tacitus in existence there, it has undoubtedly been cut up, and this ends the question." "_If_ such a manuscript was in existence there?" retorted Felix. "It _was_ in existence. But I have come to request you to show me the parchment leaf. Since the contents have been published there can be no objection to it." Struvelius looked embarrassed and answered: "I regret that I cannot meet your wishes, which are certainly quite justifiable, but I am no longer in possession of the strip." "To whom am I to apply?" asked the Professor, surprised. "Even upon that point I am at present obliged to be silent." "That is strange," exclaimed Felix; "and forgive me for speaking plainly, it is worse than unfriendly. For be the importance of this fragment great or little, it ought not to be withdrawn from the eyes of others after the publication of its contents. It is incumbent upon you to enable others to prove the correctness of your restoration of the text." "That I allow," replied Struvelius. "But I am not in a position to enable you to see this strip." "Have you sufficiently considered," exclaimed the Professor, excitedly, "that by this refusal you expose yourself to the misinterpretation of strangers, to charges which never ought to be brought in contact with your name?" "I consider myself quite capable of being the keeper of my own good name and must beg of you to leave its care entirely in my hands." "Then I have nothing further to say to you," replied Felix, and went toward the door. In going he observed that the middle door opened, and the Professor's wife, alarmed at the loud tones of the speakers, made her appearance like a good spirit, with her hands stretched imploringly toward him. But he, after a hurried salutation, closed the door and went angrily home. The cloud had gathered and the heavens were darkened. The Professor once more took up the treatise of his ungracious colleague. It was as if a mountain-lion, wildly shaking his mane, had dashed in upon the prey of a lynx or fox, and wresting the booty from the clutches of the weaker animal, ignominiously routed him. Twice Ilse called her husband to dinner in vain; when she approached his chair anxiously she saw a disturbed countenance. "I cannot eat," he said, abruptly; "send over and ask Fritz to come here directly." Ilse, alarmed, sent for their neighbor and seated herself in the Professor's room, following him with her eyes as he strode up and down. "What has so excited you, Felix?" she asked, anxiously. "I beg of you, dear wife, to dine without me to-day," he said, continuing his rapid strides.