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HOFFMANN'S STRANGE STORIES.

and, by this means, the altar drawn in perspective, offered itself to the eye in relief. During this labor, which absorbed all his faculties, Berthold appeared quite otherwise, than I had formerly seen him. His face was animated, his looks expressed a satisfaction without alloy; and when he had finished tracing on the wall the shadow of the net, he stood some minutes before this sketch; and, notwithstanding the holiness of the place, commenced humming the chorus of a very lively air; then as he turned to detach the net, which fell to the floor, he perceived me standing immovably in the place that I had not quitted.

"Hallo! hallo, there!" cried he; "is that you, Christian?"

I thought, then, that it was my duty to approach and apologize for my intrusion, paying Berthold at the same time the most eulogistic compliments on the exquisite art with which he had made use of the net. But without replying a single word to my graciousness, he said:

"Christian is an idle fellow, with whom I can do nothing; he was to have come to pass the whole night with me, and I will lay a wager that he has gone and hid himself in some corner to sleep at his ease, without care for my labor. Tomorrow, in the day time, I can no longer paint in this niche; and yet I cannot work alone now."

I then offered my services.

"Zounds!" replied Berthold, laughing, and laying both his hands rudely on my shoulders; "Zounds, that was well said; and Christian, to-morrow, will make a strange face at seeing that we can do without him. To work, then, fine journeyman that chance lends to the artist; to work!—and first let us set about raising a scaffolding."

It was done as soon as said, thanks to the dexterity of Berthold and to the zeal which I showed in my functions of amateur assistant. I could not but sufficiently admire the precision, the boldness of touch, and the sureness of hand which advanced surprisingly the work of the artist.