felt certain was nothing but
a dream, had visited him in _propria persona_, that he would have
accepted his terms--his soul for triumph over his enemy, for the
possession of the girl he loved.

The morrow rose clear and cloudless. At the appointed hour Frederick
took his violin, and prepared to set out. But just when he was opening
the door, the man in the mantle--the same he had seen the day
before--stood before him.

"You did not expect to see me," said the Unknown, following Frederick to
the end of the room, where he had retreated. "I told you, nevertheless,
that we should meet again," he added, placing himself face to face with
the son of the brewer.

"Then it was no dream," murmured the youth, who appeared to have lost
all his resolution.

"Certainly not," returned the stranger, looking sarcastically at
Frederick from head to foot. "I promised you yesterday, on the banks of
the lake, that you would find your fiddle unharmed, and that I would
enable you to conquer your rival. But I don't feel that I am bound to do
any thing of the kind for nothing; generosity was never my forte, and I
have lived long enough among the burghers of Holland to insist on being
well paid for every thing I do."

"Who are you, then; and what is it you want?" enquired the Dutch
Orpheus, in an agitated voice.

"Who am I!" answered the man in the mantle, with all the muscles of his
face in violent convulsions--"Who am I!--I thought I had told you
yesterday when you asked me--I am your master. What do I want? I will
tell you. But why do you tremble so? you were bold enough when we met. I
saw the thought in your heart--if Satan should rise before me, and
promise me victory over my rival at the price of my soul, I would agree
to the condition!"

"Satan!--you are Satan!" shrieked Frederick, and closed his eyes in
horror.

"Didn't you find me out on the side of the lake, when you told me you
would exchange your salvation for years of love and glory. Yes, I am
that King of Darkness--_your_ master! and that of a great part of
mankind. But, come; the hour is at hand--the Burgomaster and the
Stadtholder await us. Do you accept the offer I make you?"

After a minute's hesitation, during which his features betrayed the
force of the internal contest, the musician made his choice. He had not
power to speak, but he raised his hand, and was on the point of making
the cross upon his forehead, to guard him from the tempter, when Satan
perceived hi