“Hush! Silence! It is from her, my poor child, yes. Give it me. Give it me,” cried Dasipodius, and casting down the spring and starting to his feet, he swayed forward with outstretched arms hither and thither, like some stately rudderless ship, while Otto, with swift dexterity, thrust forward the chair on which he had been leaning, and sprang noiselessly aside. Then, turning to his bewildered comrades, he pointed with mocking significant gestures at Dasipodius, who was advancing with rapid strides towards the spot on which he imagined Otto to be still standing, and still with his hands eagerly outstretched for the fatal letter; but his knee came in contact with the chair, and he stumbled and fell heavily forward against its sharply-carven corner. With a simultaneous rush, the students flew to his assistance. Kaspar was first beside him, and kneeling down, the boy gently raised his master’s head, and laid it back on his own breast; next instant his jerkin was dyed through and through with the blood streaming down from the broad brow, and it was all his slender frame could do to support its fainting burden. Then, however, the elder Habrecht came and lifted Dasipodius tenderly into his own strong arms, and with his handkerchief staunched the wound, gazing down, meanwhile, with loving anxiety on the pale closed eyelids. Let be—let be awhile, friend Habrecht. Call not thy master back to life yet. Let him rest only for a few brief moments, pillowed there on thy kind heart. Rest, ere consciousness shall set again to his lips the cup of bitterness he must drink so deeply. “So bravely! bravely then, Master!” said Habrecht, when after the lapse of a few seconds, Dasipodius once more opened his sightless eyes. “What has happened?” asked the mathematician in faint, dreamy tones, lifting his hand to his head. Then with Isaac’s aid he slowly raised himself to his feet, but his cheek was deadly pale, and all blood-stained from the wound which had glanced startlingly near the temple. “That letter!” were his first words; “who has that letter? Give it me.” “Do you hear?” sternly demanded Isaac, turning to where Otto had been standing. “Give the master his letter.” But Otto was not there, nor in any other part of the spacious studio. Neither, although they all searched high and low, could the letter be found. “Otto has taken it with him, no doubt,” said Habrecht. “What has he gone off like, that for? Run after him, Kaspar, and——” “Nay, stay!” said Dasipodius, lifting his hand. “I have something to say first.” “Not now, Master,” gently entreated Habrecht, marking how vainly the low agitated voice strove to regain its wonted firmness. “You will be stronger by-and-bye, and then we can clear up this strange mistake.”