"Dead..." repeated Balthasar; he pushed back his chair, then suddenly erupted in laughter. "Why...so... Theirry, I'm free!"

Theirry frowned. "That's your reaction? I think it very tragic. The fool was so young." He turned to Dirk. "How did she die?"

The sculptor sighed, as if weary of the subject. "I don't know. She was happy here and then she died."

Balthasar rose. "Why did you bury her within the house?" he asked half uneasily.

"It was in time of war," answered Dirk. "We did what we could—and she, I think, had wished it."

The knight turned with a little start and crossed himself. "May she rest in God's peace," he cried.

"Amen," said Theirry gravely.

Dirk took a lantern from the wall and lit it from the coals still smouldering on the hearth.

"Now you know everything I do," he said. "I thought that someday you might come. I have kept for you her ring—your ring——"

Balthasar interrupted. "I want none of it," he said hastily.

Dirk lifted the lantern; its fluttering flame flushed the twilight with gold. "Won't you please to sleep here tonight?" he asked.

The knight, with his back to the window, agreed, in defiance of a secret dislike to the place.

"Follow me," commanded Dirk, then to the other, "I shall be back soon."

"Good rest," nodded Balthasar. "Tomorrow we will get horses in the town and start for Cologne."

"Good even," said Theirry.

The knight went after his host through the silent rooms, up a twisting staircase into a low chamber. It contained a wooden bedstead covered with a scarlet quilt, a table, and some richly carved chairs; Dirk lit the candles standing on the table, bade his guest a curt goodnight and returned to the workroom.

He opened the door of this softly and looked in before he entered. By the window stood Theirry striving to catch the last light on the pages of a little book he held.

Dirk pushed the door wide and stepped in softly. "Do you do much reading?" he said, and his eyes shone.

"Ay—and you?" Thierry asked tentatively.

"Master Lukas left me his manuscripts among his other goods," Dirk answered. "I've been alone so long I've practically read them all."

In the lantern light that the air breathed from the garden fanned into a flickering glow, the two young men looked at each other. An extraordinary expression, like a guilty excitement, came into the eyes of each.

"Alone," whispered Theirry, "except for the the dead maid in the house." He shuddered.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Dirk crouched away against the wall; his hair hung lankly over his pallid face. "You pity her?" he breathed. "Would you have come after reading those letters?" questioned Dirk.

"What else could I do?" answered Theirry. Then, ponderingly, "What was the girl like?"

"She was fair," said Dirk slowly. "She had yellow hair—you can see her picture on the wall, though it's too dark now."

They sat silently for some time.

Theirry came round the table. "What more have you studied? Do you also follow the sciences?" he inquired eagerly.

Dirk scoffed. "You are not aware of the nature of my studies," he said, and his eyes shone wrathfully. "Anyway, come to bed. I'm tired of talking."

Theirry bent his head. "This is a fair place for silences," he said.

Dirk led him to a chamber close to that where Balthasar lay sleeping, and left him without a word. Dirk went into the garden and paced up and down the grassy paths. His walk was hasty, his steps uneven, and he bit, with an air of absorbed distraction, his lip, his finger, and the ends of his straight hair. Now and then he looked up at the heavens, down at the ground and wildly about him.

Dirk at last returned into the house and, candle in hand, went stealthily up to Balthasar's chamber. He entered silently and crept over to the bed. The young knight lay heavily asleep; his yellow hair was tumbled over his flushed face and about the pillow; his arms hung slackly outside the red coverlet; on the floor were his brilliant clothes, his sword, his belt, his purse. Where his shirt fell open at the throat a narrow blue cord showed a charm attached. Dirk stood still, leaning forward a little, looking at the sleeper, and expressions of contempt, of startled anger, of confusion, of reflection passed across his haggard features. Balthasar did not stir.

After a while Dirk left him and passed to the chamber opposite. There lay Theirry, fully dressed. Dirk approached him, taking no care to muffle his footsteps. The scholar's fair face was resting on his hand, his chin up-tilted, his full lips a little apart. His lashes lay so lightly on his cheek it seemed he must be glancing from under them. His hair, dark, yet shining, was heaped round his temples. Dirk, staring down at him, breathed furiously colour flooding his face. Then retreating to the table he sank on to the rush-bottomed chair.

Theirry moved in his sleep. Dirk watched him expectantly. Suddenly, Thierry rose on his elbow with a start. He turned to set his feet to the ground.

Before he could speak, Dirk put his finger on his lips. "Hush," he whispered, "Balthasar is asleep."

Theirry, startled, frowned. "Why are you here? What do you want with me?"

The young sculptor groaned whinily and buried his head into the curve of his arm resting against the table.

"You are strange," said Theirry.

Dirk suddenly glanced up. "Will you take me with you to Padua—to Basle?" he said. "I have money and some learning."

"What? You are free to go there yourself, no?" answered Theirry, but awakened interest shone in his eyes.

"I'd rather go with you," insisted Dirk intensely. "Will you take me?"

Theirry rose from the bed uneasily.

"Do you mean for us to study cooperatively?"

"Yes."

"Lately, I've become accustomed to studying alone. The nature of my study, you see..."

He came to the other side of the table and across the frail gleam of the candle looked at Dirk. Their eyes met and instantly sank, as if each were afraid of what the other might reveal.

"I have studied a rather obscure and particular subject that may interest you," said Dirk hestitantly. "You also—I suspect, may have some learning in the same science——"

The silent awe of comprehension fell upon them, then Theirry spoke. "So few understand—can it be possible—-that you—?"

Dirk rose. "How much have you done?"

Theirry paled, but his hazel eyes were bright as flame. "How much?" then he broke off—"God help us——"

"Ah!—do you use that name?" cried Dirk, and showed his teeth.

The other, with cold fingers, clutched at the back of the rush-bottomed chair.

"So it's true? You deal with—you—ah, you——"

"What was that book you were reading?" asked Dirk sharply. "I suspect I know." There was a pause; then Dirk, almost giddy, took up the candle in excitement:

"It was——" Thierry began.

"Black magic—black magic!"