embraced his arm, that huge arm of his
like the trunk of a tree. Fumbling his way along, he allowed himself to
be led to his bed, and plunged down upon it fully dressed as he was.
After turning about restlessly for a moment or two, a loud snore like
thunder, which made the whole room vibrate, proclaimed that he had
fallen asleep at last. But his slumbers were restless and uneasy.
Frequently he would start and cry aloud as if in agony, or utter broken
unintelligible half sentences and groan horribly.

But the fair little girl extinguished the lamp before she got ready to
lie down herself. The pale light of the moon shone through the window
and made her face whiter, her hair more silvery than ever, as if by
enchantment. It shone right upon her snow-white bed. It shone upon her
soft eyebrows, her smiling face, upon her sweet lips as they tremulously
prayed.

So slumber came upon her in the shape of a snow-white moonbeam. With a
smiling face, hands clasped together, and praying lips, she fell
asleep--and her guardian angel stood at the head of her snow-white bed.

The youth had watched the whole scene through the rift in the door with
bated breath and great amazement. When he rose to his feet, he remained
for a long time, rapt in a brown study, leaning against the wall and
staring blankly before him, lost in wonder that two such different
beings should be slumbering together beneath the same roof.

He sighed deeply. In the stillness of the night it seemed to him as if
he heard the echo of his own sigh coming back to him in whispering
words. He listened attentively--he could plainly distinguish the deep
droning voice of the headsman's wife, which seemed to him to come from
somewhere below at the opposite end of the house.

He went in the direction of the voice, and when he came to the place
where his comrade had knocked thrice on the boards near the chimney, he
distinctly heard two people talking to each other in a low voice. It was
the headsman's wife and her lover.

The youth turned away full of loathing. Nevertheless, it soon occurred
to him that this tempestuous _tete-a-tete_ could have little to do with
love. The voice of the headsman's wife frequently arose in anger.

"Let him go to hell!" he heard her exclaim.

"Hush! hush!" murmured the young 'prentice, "somebody might overhear
us."

"Pooh! God and men both slumber now."

What could they be talking about? Whom did they want to harm? Such folks
had it not