Ere Tussmann could answer, the goldsmith went on to say: "This Jew-coiner, Lippold, was accused of an important imposture, and a serious roguery. He had at one time been much in the confidence of the Elector, and was at the head of all the affairs of the mints and the coinage in the country; always ready to produce large sums of money, no matter how large, when required. Whether because he was clever at shifts, or that he had powers at his command which enabled him to clear himself from all blame in the Elector's eyes, or that he was able to 'shoot with a silver bullet' (to use an expression of those times) those who had influence over the Elector's proceedings, he was on the very point of getting off scot free from the accusations brought against him. But he was still kept under guard, by the town-watch, in his little house in Stralau Street. And it so chanced that he had a quarrel with his wife, in the course of which she said to him, in the hearing of the guard, 'If our gracious lord the Elector only knew what a villain you are, and what atrocities you manage to commit by the help of that magic book of yours, you'd be in your coffin long ago.' This was reported to the Elector, who had careful search made in Lippold's house. The magic book was found, and, when it was examined by those who understood it, Lippold's guilt was clearly established. He had practised magical arts to give him power over the Elector, and to enable him to rule the whole country; and it was only the piety and Godfearingness of the Elector which had enabled him to withstand those spells. Lippold was burned in the market-place. But when the fire was taking effect on his body and upon the magic book, a great mouse came out from under the scaffold, and leaped into the fire. Many supposed that this was Lippold's familiar demon." Whilst the goldsmith had been relating this, the old Jew had sate leaning his arms on the table, with his hands before his eyes, groaning and sighing like one suffering unendurable tortures. On the other hand, the Clerk of the Privy Chancery did not seem to be paying much attention to what the goldsmith was saying. He was in high good-humour, and his mind was full of quite other ideas and images; and, when the goldsmith had ended, he asked, with many smiles, and in a lisping manner: "Tell me, dear Herr Professor, if you will be so kind, was it really Miss Albertine Bosswinkel who came and looked out of the window of the Tower?" "What?" cried the goldsmith, furiously--"what business have _you_ with Miss Albertine Bosswinkel?" "My dear sir!" said Tussmann, timidly--"good gracious! My dear friend, she is the very lady whom I have made up my mind to marry!"