Neither would consent to take the book, or receive anything in its stead, for a savage pride was in their hearts; and there lay the large worn folio, with its brazen clasps, between them.  The day’s work had been hard, for though comparatively rich, Christopher and Hubert were laborious men from habit, and the elder at length leaned his head on the table to rest a moment, and think what could be done.  Hubert also leaned his brow on his hand, and it might be the sight of that old volume, in spite of themselves, brought faraway memories crowding back on both.  They thought of the German city where they had been born; of their long-dead father; and, last of all, of Gottleib.  They knew the grass was long upon his German grave; but suddenly, as wild and vague regrets for all that had come and gone began to rise upon them, the door of their room was opened, and there entered a stranger of most noble presence and aspect, who, without a word, drew back the table and seated himself between them.

The brothers were astonished; but when he said in their own German tongue:  ‘Friends, why do you muse so silently?’ his voice sounded in their ears like the church-bells of Augsburg.

‘We have cause for silence and musing, friend,’ said Christopher.

‘And what is your business with us?’ demanded the fiery Hubert.

‘I have come,’ said the stranger, ’to shew you a rare and curious sight which lies in your very neighbourhood, though you never saw it, not having yet reached the ground from which it is rightly seen.’

‘We have no time for sights at this late hour,’ cried Hubert.

‘Our accounts and goods occupy us now, but we will go to-morrow,’ said Christopher.

‘Nay, friends,’ said the stranger, taking a hand of each, ’it were well that you should see it soon.  All who earnestly look upon that sight, are somewhat instructed to their private benefit; and it may be that you also will learn something touching the use of these,’ he added, pointing to the open account-books and the clasped Bible.

Christopher and Hubert felt persuaded to accompany him:  he led them, it seemed but a few steps from their own door, through a dark and narrow lane, in which the busy men had never been; but there streets and houses abruptly terminated, and they stood by the side of a broad and thronged highway.  A road like that the brothers had never seen in all their journeys.  It ran due east and west, from the rising to the setting sun; but far to the eastward, a mist, like the smoke of congregated houses, shut out the view; and on the west, a fog more dense than that of autumn or mid-winter closed the prospect.  The space between was thronged with travellers, who emerged from the eastern mist, and were manifestly going to the other.

A light shone on them, but it was gray and uncertain, like that of twilight.  Sometimes the sun, sometimes the stars shone through, and strange clouds and meteors passed across the sky.