After a time he dropped asleep, as children can do when they weep,
and little robust hill-born boys most surely do, be they where
they may. It was not very cold in this lumber-room; it was tightly
shut up, and very full of things, and at the back of it were the
hot pipes of an adjacent house, where a great deal of fuel was
burnt. Moreover, August's clothes were warm ones, and his blood
was young. So he was not cold, though Munich is terribly cold in
the nights of December; and he slept on and on--which was a
comfort to him, for he forgot his woes, and his perils, and his
hunger, for a time.

Midnight was once more chiming from all the brazen tongues of the
city when he awoke, and, all being still around him, ventured to
put his head out of the brass door of the stove to see why such a
strange bright light was round him.

It was a very strange and brilliant light indeed; and yet, what is
perhaps still stranger, it did not frighten or amaze him, nor did
what he saw alarm him either, and yet I think it would have done
you or me. For what he saw was nothing less than all the bric-a-
brac in motion.

A big jug, an Apostel-Krug, of Kruessen, was solemnly dancing a
minuet with a plump Faenza jar; a tall Dutch clock was going
through a gavotte with a spindle-legged ancient chair; a very
droll porcelain figure of Littenhausen was bowing to a very stiff
soldier in terre cuite of Ulm; an old violin of Cremona was
playing itself, and a queer little shrill plaintive music that
thought itself merry came from a painted spinnet covered with
faded roses; some gilt Spanish leather had got up on the wall and