for her in that box—It is dark around me-Let me rest—"
A mouse made a piece of paper rustle in one corner; except that, silence held the room. Death was coming.
"I should like to finish our work," continued Gustav. "Tell my associates not to quarrel—Cold is seizing me—I am curious to know if there be a heaven or a hell. I have never prayed—but, but—"
Vasilkevich inclined toward him and asked in a low voice,—
"Gustav, dost thou believe in immortality?"
The sick man could speak no longer; he nodded in sign of affirmation. Then low tones of enchanting music seemed to be given forth in that chamber. Along the rays of the moonlight a legion of angels pushed in from the sky; the room was filled with them, some with white, others with golden or colored wings. They came quietly, bent over the bed. The rustle of their wings was audible.
The spirit of Gustav went away with that low-sounding orchestra.
The funeral took place with great solemnity. The whole University in a body was present around the coffin. Then they spoke for the first time of the accurate knowledge, the toil
