ung housewife than even this
precious bit of carving. If she will part with it I will pay her seventy
thalers, and it shall lie in St. Sebald's Church near my own Virgin,
that all may see its loveliness and remember the hand that fashioned
it."

Seventy thalers! Sigmund dropped the dog and lifted his handsome head
with a look of blank bewilderment. Seventy thalers for a bit of wood
like that, when his own strong arms could not earn as much in months! He
stared at the little image in wondering perplexity, as though striving
to see by what mysterious process it had arrived at such a value; while
into his heart crept a thought strictly in keeping with his practical
nature. If the humpback could have produced work worth so much, what a
thousand pities he should die with only one piece finished!

On Lisbeth, too, a revelation seemed to have fallen. Her wheel had
stopped, and in her mind she was rapidly running over a list of
household goods valued at seventy thalers. It was a mental calculation
quickly and cleverly accomplished; for Lisbeth was not slow in all
things, and years of thrift had taught her the full worth of money.
Instinctively she glanced at her husband and marvelled at his unmoved
face.

"Your offer is a liberal one, Master Stoss," said Peter, gravely. "And I
rejoice to think that the poor lad's genius will be recognized. In him
Nuremberg would have had another famous son."

"In him Nuremberg has now a famous son," corrected Veit Stoss, laying
his hand upon the statue. "No other proof of greatness can be needed."
With gentle care he replaced the cloth and lifted the precious burden in
his arms, when suddenly Kala sprang forward, her cheeks ablaze, her blue
eyes dark with anger. Transfigured for one instant into a new and
passionate beauty, she snatched the image from his hands.

"It is mine!" she cried, fiercely; "mine! Gabriel loved me, and carved
it for me when he knew that he was dying. It was for me he did it, and
you shall not take it from me."

She gathered it to her bosom with a low, broken cry, and darted from the
room. God only knows what late love, and pity, and remorse were working
in her breast. Veit Stoss turned softly to her father. "It is enough,"
he said. "Your daughter has the prior right, and I came not here to
wrong her."

And so the hand which had robbed Gabriel of love and life robbed him of
fame. For the statue which should have given joy to generations remained
unknown in the ar