Susannah thought this very sweet; still, she said it was very late for such a visit; however, her spoilt child had said that she “must” and the answer was a foregone conclusion.  Dame Susannah gave way; the nurse was sent for, and as soon as the chariot came round Katharina flung her arms round her mother’s neck, promising her not to stay long, and in a few minutes the chariot stopped at the door of the bishop’s palace.  She bid the nurse wait for her and went alone into the vast, rambling house.

The spacious hall, lighted feebly by a single lamp, was silent and deserted, even the door-keeper had left his post; however, she was familiar with every step and turning, and went on through the impluvium into the library where, at this hour, the bishop was wont to be found.  But it was dark, and her gentle call met with no reply.  In the next room, to which she timidly felt her way, a slave lay snoring; beside him were a wine jar and a hand-lamp.  The sight somewhat reassured her.  Beyond was the bishop’s bedroom, which she had never been into.  A dim light gleamed through the open door and she heard a low moaning and gasping.  She called the house-keeper by name once, twice; no answer.  The sleeping slave did not stir; but a familiar voice addressed her from the bedroom, groaning rather than saying: 

“Who is there?  Is he come?  Have you found him at last?”

The whole household had fled in fear of the pestilence; even the acolyte, who had indeed a wife and children.  The housekeeper had been forced to leave the master to seek the physician, who had already been there once, and the last remaining slave, a faithful, goodhearted, heedless sot, had been left in charge; but he had brought a jar of wine up from the unguarded cellar, had soon emptied it, and then, overcome by drink and the heat of the night, he had fallen asleep.

Katharina at once spoke her name and the old man answered her, saying kindly, but with difficulty:  “Ah, it is you, you, my child!”

She took up the lamp and went close to the sick man.  He put out his lean arm to welcome her; but, as her approach brought the light near to him he covered his eyes, crying out distressfully:  “No, no; that hurts.  Take away the lamp.”

Katharina set it down on a low chest behind the head of the bed; then she went up to the sufferer, gave him her mother’s message, and asked him how he was and why he was left alone.  He could only give incoherent answers which he gasped out with great difficulty, bidding her go close to him for he could not hear her distinctly.  He was very ill, he told her—­dying.  It was good of her to have come for she had always been his pet, his dear, good little girl.

“And it was a happy impulse that brought you,” he added, “to receive an old man’s blessing.  I give it you with my whole heart.”

As he spoke he put forth his hand and she, following an instinctive prompting, fell on her knees by the side of the couch.