"You are very cold, doctor," said the diminutive man, "and you cannot get
into the castle. Sperver has fastened the inside door, I don't know why;
he does not usually do so; the outer gate is enough. Come in here and get
warm. You won't find my little hole very inviting, though. It is nothing
but a sty, but when a man is as cold as you are he is not apt to be
particular."

Without replying to his chatter I followed him in as quickly as I could.

We went into the hut, and in spite of my complete state of numbness, I
could not help admiring the state of picturesque disorder in which I
found the place. The slate roof leaning against the rock, and resting by
its other side on a wall not more than six feet high, showed the smoky,
blackened rafters from end to end.

The whole edifice consisted of but one apartment, furnished with a very
uninviting bed, which the dwarf did not often take the trouble to make,
and two small windows with hexagonal panes, weather-stained with the
rainbow tints of mother-of-pearl. A large square table filled up the
middle, and it would be difficult to account for that massive oak slab
being got in unless by supposing it to have been there before the hut was
built.

On shelves against the wall were rolls of parchment, and old books great
and small. Wide open on the table lay a fine black-letter volume, with
illuminations, bound in vellum, clasped and cornered with silver,
apparently a collection of old chronicles. Besides there was nothing but
two leathern arm-chairs, bearing on them the unmistakable impression of
the misshapen figure of this learned gentleman.