hou never see her, Otto?" said the little girl.

"Aye," said Otto, "I see her sometimes in my dreams, and her face always
shines so bright that I know she is an angel; for brother John has often
seen the dear angels, and he tells me that their faces always shine in
that way. I saw her the night thy father hurt me so, for I could not
sleep and my head felt as though it would break asunder. Then she
came and leaned over me and kissed my forehead, and after that I fell
asleep."

"But where did she come from, Otto?" said the little girl.

"From paradise, I think," said Otto, with that patient seriousness that
he had caught from the monks, and that sat so quaintly upon him.

"So!" said little Pauline; and then, after a pause, "That is why thy
mother kissed thee when thy head ached--because she is an angel. When
I was sick my mother bade Gretchen carry me to a far part of the house,
because I cried and so troubled her. Did thy mother ever strike thee,
Otto?"

"Nay," said Otto.

"Mine hath often struck me," said Pauline.

One day little Pauline came bustling into Otto's cell, her head full of
the news which she carried. "My father says that thy father is out
in the woods somewhere yonder, back of the castle, for Fritz, the
swineherd, told my father that last night he had seen a fire in the
woods, and that he had crept up to it without anyone knowing. There he
had seen the Baron Conrad and six of his men, and that they were eating
one of the swine that they had killed and roasted. Maybe," said she,
seating herself upon the edge of Otto's couch; "maybe my father will
kill thy father, and they will bring him here and let him lie upon a
black bed with bright candles burning around him, as they did my uncle
Frederick when he was killed."

"God forbid!" said Otto, and then lay for a while with his hands
clasped. "Dost thou love me, Pauline?" said he, after a while.

"Yes," said Pauline, "for thou art a good child, though my father says
that thy wits are cracked."

"Mayhap they are," said Otto, simply, "for I have often been told so
before. But thou wouldst not see me die, Pauline; wouldst thou?"

"Nay," said Pauline, "I would not see thee die, for then thou couldst
tell me no more stories; for they told me that uncle Frederick could not
speak because he was dead."

"Then listen, Pauline," said Otto; "if I go not away from here I shall
surely die. Every day I grow more sick and the leech cannot cure me."
Here he broke