nightfall, and, turning the whole house into a sepulchre by its presence,
go creeping about like a cat all over it in the dark--perhaps with
phosphorescent eyes? So it was not surprising that the painter abandoned
his studio early, and that the three found themselves together in the
gorgeous room formerly described, as soon as twilight began to fall.

"Already Teufelsbuerst had begun to experience a kind of shrinking from the
horrid faces in his own pictures, and to feel disgusted at the abortions
of his own mind. But all that he and the old woman now felt was an
increasing fear as the night drew on, a kind of sickening and paralysing
terror. The thing down there would not lie quiet--at least its phantom in
the cellars of their imagination would not. As much as possible, however,
they avoided alarming Lilith, who, knowing all they knew, was as silent as
they. But her mind was in a strange state of excitement, partly from the
presence of a new sense of love, the pleasure of which all the atmosphere
of grief into which it grew could not totally quench. It comforted her
somehow, as a child may comfort when his father is away.

"Bedtime came, and no one made a move to go. Without a word spoken on the
subject, the three remained together all night; the elders nodding and
slumbering occasionally, and Lilith getting some share of repose on a
couch. All night the shape of death might be somewhere about the house;
but it did not disturb them. They heard no sound, saw no sight; and when
the morning dawned, they separated, chilled and stupid, and for the time
beyond fear, to seek repose in their private chambers. There they remained
equally undisturbed.

"But when the painter approached his easel a few hours after, looking more
pale and haggard still than he was wont, from the fears of the night, a
new bewilderment took possession of him. He had been busy with a fresh