And the Archivarius again stepped forth, through many a strangely-decorated chamber; so that the student Anselmus, in following him, could scarcely give a glance at all the glittering wondrous furniture, and other unknown things, with which the whole of them were filled.  At last they entered a large apartment, where the Archivarius, casting his eyes aloft, stood still; and Anselmus got time to feast himself on the glorious sight which the simple decoration of this hall afforded.  Jutting from the azure-colored walls rose gold-bronze trunks of high palm-trees, which wove their colossal leaves, glittering like bright emeralds, into a ceiling far up; in the middle of the chamber, and resting on three Egyptian lions, cast out of dark bronze, lay a porphyry plate; and on this stood a simple Golden Pot, from which, so soon as he beheld it, Anselmus could not turn away an eye.  It was as if, in a thousand gleaming reflections, all sorts of shapes were sporting on the bright polished gold; often he perceived his own form, with arms stretched out in longing—­ah! beneath the elder-bush—­and Serpentina was winding and shooting up and down, and again looking at him with her kind eyes.  Anselmus was beside himself with frantic rapture.

“Serpentina!  Serpentina!” cried he aloud; and Archivarius Lindhorst whirled round abruptly, and said:  “How now, worthy Herr Anselmus?  If I mistake not, you were pleased to call for my daughter; she is way in the other side of the house at present, and indeed just taking her lesson on the harpsichord.  Let us go over.”

Anselmus, scarcely knowing what he did, followed his conductor; he saw or heard nothing more, till Archivarius Lindhorst suddenly grasped his hand, and said:  “Here is the place!” Anselmus awoke as from a dream, and now perceived that he was in a high room, all lined on every side with book-shelves, and nowise differing from a common library and study.  In the middle stood a large writing-table, with a stuffed arm-chair before it.  “This,” said Archivarius Lindhorst, “is your work-room for the present:  whether you may work, some other time, in the blue library, also where you so suddenly called out my daughter’s name, I yet know not.  But now I could wish to convince myself of your ability to execute this task appointed to you, in the way I wish it and need it.”  The student here gathered full courage; and not without internal self-complacence in the certainty of highly gratifying Archivarius Lindhorst through his extraordinary talents, pulled out his drawings and specimens of penmanship from his pocket.  But no sooner had the Archivarius cast his eye on the first leaf, a piece of writing in the finest English style, than he smiled very oddly, and shook his head.  These motions he repeated at every following leaf, so that the student Anselmus felt the blood mounting to his face; and at last, when the smile became quite sarcastic and contemptuous, he broke out in downright vexation:  “The Herr Archivarius does not seem contented with my poor talents.”