into the crisp frosty morning air
to fetch Anna. When she came to the dreary house in the Stiftstrasse
where the deformed girl lived, she was annoyed to find that her friend
had already started for church. It was Anna's habit to go to the
cathedral before the appointed hour for the church service. She loved to
sit in the dim aisle, watching the sunlight creeping through the ancient
stained glass windows, while she waited for the first tone of the organ.

Wilhelmine considered for a moment. It was ridiculous to fear Mueller; he
would not dare to molest her in the precincts of the church; yet she
hated to pass the sacristy door alone, for he could follow her, unseen
from the rest of the building. She threw back her head with a defiant
movement: was she becoming fearful, timid? Was this a frame of mind in
which to face the adventurous life at a court? She turned away
impatiently, and went swiftly down the Stiftstrasse to the market-place.
The Rathaus clock rang out, and Wilhelmine realised that there was no
time to be lost if she were to play the voluntary to the sound of which
the worshippers were accustomed to take their places. She hastened across
the market-place, down the Klosterstrasse and through the graveyard,
where the old stone slabs on the graves were, for the most part, hidden
beneath the frost-bound snow which glittered in the sun, though here and
there an upright tombstone showed like a discoloured, jagged tooth in the
midst of a white pall. She hurried on and entered the side door near the
sacristy. As she lifted the latch of the entrance to the dark stair
leading up to the organ-loft she heard a movement behind her, and,
turning, she saw Mueller's face peer at her from the sacristy. She paid no
heed, and springing quickly up the steps gained the small platform, where
the happiest hours of her life had been spent with the old musician. She
peered down into the well-like space beneath the organ, where the
bellows-blower laboured, pumping in the air for the pipes. He was at his
post patiently waiting for the signal to commence his work. Wilhelmine
signed to him to begin, and having assured herself that all was in order,
she glanced at the sheets of manuscript music. She found that Monsieur
Gabriel had appointed hymns and canticles for the day, and she noticed
that he had chosen the easiest and simplest, for though her skill almost
equalled his own, he had evidently wished to spare her difficulty and
trouble. S