cal snuff-boxes which they made at Geneva; once wound up, unless you broke her, she would play all her airs through.
Finding Gerande absorbed in a melancholy silence, Scholastique left her old wooden chair, fixed a taper on the end of a candlestick, lit it, and placed it near a small waxen Virgin, sheltered in her niche of stone. It was the family custom to kneel before this protecting Madonna of the domestic hearth, and to beg her kindly watchfulness during the coming night; but on this evening, Gerande remained silent in her seat.
"Well, well, dear demoiselle," said the astonished Scholastique, "supper is over, and it is time to go to bed. Why do you tire your eyes by sitting up late? Ah, Holy Virgin! It is much better to sleep, and to get a little comfort from happy dreams! In these detestable times in which we live, who can promise herself a fortunate day?"
"Ought we not to send for a doctor for my father?" asked Gerande.
"A doctor!" cried the old domestic. "Has Master Zacharius ever listened to their fancies and pompous sayings? He might accept medicines for the watches, but not for the body!"
"What shall we do?" murmured Gerande. "Has he gone to work, or has he retired? "
"Gerande," answered Aubert, softly, "some mental trouble annoys your father, and that is all."
"Do you know what it is, Aubert?"
"Perhaps, Gerande."
"Tell us, then," cried Scholastique, eagerly, prudently extinguishing her taper.
"For several days, Gerande," said the young apprentice, "something absolutely incomprehensible has been going on. All the watches which your father has made and sold for some years have suddenly stopped. Very many of them have been brought back to him. He has carefully taken them to pieces; the springs were in good condition, and the wheels well set. He has put them together yet more carefully; but, despite his skill, they have refused to go."
"The devil's in it!" cried Scholastique.
"Why say you so?" asked Gerande. "It seems very
