music, a
hand-organ had been bought for her, and new melodies were inserted in it
every four months.

When the little maid wearied of her organ and her picture-making, she
seated herself at the card-table, and played _l'hombre_, or _tarok_,
with two imaginary adversaries, enjoying the manner in which the copper
coins won the gold ones.

At noon, when the bell rang a third time, the man tapped at the door
again, offered his gloved hand to the maid, and conducted her to the
dining-room. At either end of a large table was a plate. The maid took
her place at the head; the man seated himself at the foot. They
conversed during the meal. The maid talked about her cats and dogs; the
man told her about his books. When the maid wanted anything, she called
the man Ludwig; and when the man addressed his companion, he called her
simply Marie.

After dinner, they went to the library to look at the late newspapers.
Ludwig himself made the coffee, after which he read the papers, and
dictated his comments and criticisms on certain articles to Marie, who
wrote them out in her delicate hair-line chirography.

When Ludwig and Marie separated for the afternoon, he touched his lips
to her hand and brow. Marie then returned to her own apartments, played
the hand-organ for her pets, changed her dolls' toilets, counted her
gains or losses at cards, colored with her paints a few of the
illustrations in the magazines, looked through her "Orbis pictus,"
reading without difficulty the text which was printed in four languages,
and read for the hundredth time her favorite "Robinson Crusoe."

And thus passed day after day, from spring until autumn, from autumn
until spring.

Evenings, when Marie prepared for bed, before she undressed herself, she
spread a heavy silken coverlet over the leather lounge which stood near
the door. She knew very well that the some one she called Ludwig slept
every night on the lounge, but he came in so late, and went away so
early in the morning, that she never heard his coming or his going.

The little maid was a sound sleeper, and the pugs never barked at the
master of the house, who gave them lumps of sugar.

Often the little maid had determined that she would not go to sleep
until she heard Ludwig come into the room. But all her attempts to
remain awake were in vain. Her eyelids closed the moment her head
touched the pillow. Then she tried to waken early, in order to wish him
good morning; but when she thrus