The trumpet had in the meanwhile sounded the first hour, but still she was not able to sleep. Her natural thoughts of her uncle and Tring were followed by a flood of fanciful imaginings, and in them she saw the figures warped and distorted out of their natural proportions; persons who are sick and persons who carry troubles in their minds experience this frequently, at a time when the body is tired and aching for sleep and yet when the mind is overactive with worries. Her uncle at one minute of normal and ordinary size seemed at intervals to shrink or enlarge without warning; Tring was now a student of the collegiate type, now a nightmare of a thing with the head of a pumpkin that grew until the whole sky was filled with the darkness of his shadow. They were engaged in many nefarious enterprises: they were releasing great hordes of bats from baskets, bats that they had created out of old sandals; they were leaping into the air and catching huge birds like eagles which they were imprisoning under the roof of the loft; they were mixing fiery liquids that hissed and bubbled and foamed—they were doing a thousand things at once and all of them somehow of evil. For nearly an hour these phantoms of half sleep danced in her brain, and then suddenly the bell on the tower sounded twice. “The second hour,” she exclaimed, the drowsy phantoms of her brain taking sudden flight. The Heynal began. “That is Joseph,” she thought. She was humming the tune, already following him note by note—she reached the place where the hymn ended, and ceased there, to wait until he began to play again from the second of the four windows. But the next second she realized to her vast amazement that Joseph had not stopped upon the broken note that came at the end of the Heynal, but had added a note or two, and brought the little hymn to an end in the way that pieces of music usually end. Elzbietka sat upright on the bed, although she was quite certain that some trick had been played upon her by her senses. “Perhaps I was but half awake,” she thought. “I will listen more closely when he plays it the second time.” He began to play from the south side. This time she did not hum the tune over but followed each note intently. When he had finished she realized that for the second time he had not stopped upon the broken note but had gone ahead with the additional notes which made the Heynal sound like a finished piece of music and not one that was broken off. [Illustration: _The ending of the Heynal, showing the broken note._ _The Heynal as Joseph played it, showing the notes which he added._] “He _is_ playing it wrongly,” she repeated to herself. He played next on the east side but the wind carried the sound away this time. When he came to the last window, the window on the north, the sound came clearly to Elzbietka’s ears. “This time I shall know,” she said.