he had
mentioned it to Louise, and she promised to divert attention from him
whilst he was away.

The company took coffee in the garden-house; Otto walked in deep thought
in the avenue by the side of the river. The beautiful scene before
him riveted his eye. Close beside lay a water-mill, over the two great
wheels of which poured the river white as milk. Behind this was thrown a
bridge, over which people walked and drove. The journeyman-miller
stood upon the balcony, and whistled an air. It was such a picture as
Christian Winther and Uhland give in their picturesque poems. On the
other side of the mill arose tall poplars half-buried in the green
meadow, in which stood the nunnery; a nun had once drowned herself where
now the red daisies grow.

A strong sunlight lit up the whole scene. All was repose and summer
warmth. Suddenly Otto's ear caught the deep and powerful tones of an
organ; he turned himself round. The tones, which went to his heart, came
from St. Knud's Church, which lay close beside the garden. The sunshine
of the landscape, and the strength of the music, gave, as it were, to
him light and strength for the darkness toward which he was so soon to
go.

The sun set; and Otto went alone across the market-place toward the old
corner house, where German Heinrich practiced his arts. Upon this place
stood St. Albani's Church, where St. Knud, betrayed by his servant
Blake, [Author's Note: Whence has arisen the popular expression of
"being a false Blake."] was killed by the tumultuous rebels. The common
people believe that from one of the deep cellars under this house
proceeds a subterranean passage to the so-called "Nun's Hill." At
midnight the neighboring inhabitants still hear a roaring under the
marketplace, as if of the sudden falling of a cascade. The better
informed explain it as being a concealed natural water-course, which has
a connection with the neighboring river. In our time the old house is
become a manufactory; the broken windows, the gaps of which are repaired
either with slips of wood or with paper, the quantity of human bones
which are found in the garden, and which remain from the time when this
was a church-yard, give to the whole place a peculiar interest to the
common people of Odense.

Entering the house at the front, it is on the same level as the
market-place; the back of the house, on the contrary, descends
precipitously into the garden, where there are thick old walls and
foundations