evidences of mystery and
magic which surrounded her was the idea that she was the guest and
the debtor of this rough, common fellow. She, rich, well-born, a
faithful child of the Church, owed her rescue from a most unpleasant
position to this obscure, godless tradesman. If she could only pay him
the heaviest interest for his loan, and had not to say "thank you!"
And yet she had to swallow the indignity.

Ivan, after an absence of a few minutes, returned, followed by a maid
carrying a tray with the steaming breakfast. She laid the cloth, and
set out the cups and coffee-cans. The countess would gladly have made
some excuse to avoid tasting the food presented by her unholy host,
but the abbe, who was a man of the world, drew his chair to the table,
and invited Theudelinde to follow his example, "For," he said, "we
shall not get anything to eat till the evening, as there are no inns
on our road; and you want refreshment before your long journey."

When the countess saw that no demons seized upon the clergyman, and
that the coffee of the Warlock seemed innocent of all evil, she, too,
came to the table and sipped a few spoonfuls, but she found it was
execrable stuff; the milk was not so bad, and she contented herself
with that and bread.

Ivan began to talk about the weather--a very general subject of
conversation; but herein there was this difference. Instead of an
ignoramus, it was a meteorologist who handled the theme. Ivan assured
the countess that both the barometer and his English glass pointed to
fine weather, the sun was as warm as in May, their journey would be
excellent. As he spoke, Ivan drew back the thick green window
curtains, and let in the bright sunlight to enliven the half-darkened
room. The first effect of this sudden eruption of light was to show
the countess her own face reflected in a large concave mirror which
hung on the wall opposite to her.

It is an undoubted fact that we all like to see our reflection in a
glass; our eyes wander to it naturally, and the most earnest orator,
in the midst of his finest peroration, will gesticulate to his own
image with more satisfaction than to a crowded audience; but it is a
totally different thing if it should be a magnifying-glass. What a
horrible distortion of ourselves--head as large as a cask, features of
a giant, expression that of a satyr; a sight too dreadful to
contemplate.

"What an awful glass you have there," said the countess, peevishly, as
she t