THE LIBRARY OF FATE.
281
Toward evening , finding himself too weary and giddy to walk without reeling, or stand without falling, Braithe accosted a policeman.
"My friend, is there anywhere that I can go and sit down awhile without having to pay for the accommodation?"
"Sure an' there's the Li'bry - it's free to all, " replied Dogberry, himself of such recent impor { tation that he had not unlearned all his civility . and Braithe staggered in at the designated door-way, found the library, took a book in his hand, and seating himself upon the floor, in the furthest angie of the remotest alcove, went fast asleep, and so remained for the next six hours.
He was awakened by the clang of the city clocks striking midnight, an operation lasting over some ten minutes, an approach to unanimity really wonderful, when we consider that most ofthese clocks are upon Christian churches of different creeds.
"Why, where- where am I ?" muttered Romuald Braithe, rubbing his eyes, and sitting up very straight. For manifest reasons, nobody replied to this question; and after staring about him for a minute or two, the young man scrambled to his feet, stretched himself, and staggered back against the book-shelves.
"I'm very hungry," remarked he, plaintively: "and I don't remember where I can be. Oh, yes ! the free library ! I wonder if a fellow is free to die here."
No copy of the regulations being at hand, or any light to read it by if there had been, this question also went unanswered, and Romuald remained leaning against the book-shelves, in a profound fit of meditation.
"Very hungry, and very cold, " continued he, presently. " I wonder if that old door-keeper has left some fire in his rusty grate ? Who knows but the remnant of his luncheon may be found in some of those drawers beside his desk. I will go and sec. If not, I shall eat the binding of one of those books ; I hope I shall be able to find a new one, not too much thumbed."
So muttering, Braithe felt his way along the line of shelves until emerging from the alcove into the open space, he could gain a view of the further end of the hall. A faint glimmer of firelight served to guide him between the Scylla of the reading-table and the Charybdis of the bookcases, and he finally reached a point from which he could command the nook usually occupied by the janitor. To his astonishment it was so occupied now, or at least the figure of an old man was seated in the leathern armchair appropriated to that officer, and appeared
to be writing diligently in a thick volume bound
in vellum.
" So the old fellow stayed with us for company ; that was very polite of him, " murmured Braithe, whose brain, giddy from long fasting and recent sleep, seemed incapable of any serious ideas : and advancing a few steps, he politely inquired.
Did you stay here to make sure that I should not be disturbed, or was it to keep up the fire for me, my good sir?"
Thus addressed, the figure at the desk looked up, fixing his dim, blue eyes upon the face or the young man, who now stood close beside him. Something, he knew not what, in that dim, far-off regard, chilled the blood at Braithe's heart, and involuntarily he drew back from his close vicinity to the supposed janitor.
"I beg pardon, sir," stammered he, confusedly.
"What name?" asked the old man, in a voice so like his look that one could hardly tell whether it was the eyes that spoke and the voice that looked, or the converse.
"What name?" asked he again, as the youth delayed to answer.
"My name, do you mean, sir?"
"Surely. You wish your volume, do you not ?"
"I- I hardly know. It seems to me that we mistake each other, sir," hesitated Braithe. “ I am a mere wayfarer, who, straying into this place overnight, have overslept myself, and am now intruding both upon your time and your premises. "
"You think so. But you would find it all written in your volume. I knew you would come to-night, but I did not care to look out your name-what is it ?"
" My name is Romuald Braithe ; but, excuse me, I hardly think you could have known of my coming, any more than I now know what you mean by my volume. This is the City Library, is it not?"
"This is the Library of Fate, young man, and I am the librarian. Do you see these volumes?"
He waved his hands as he spoke, and Romuald, looking about him, noticed, for the first time, that the bookcases he had already seen were swung open like doors, giving entrance to long arcades and vistas, extending far as the eye could reach, and all lined with tiers upon tiers of books bound like that upon the desk, in white vellum, with a label of read leather at the back. In front of these bookcases, and eagerly examining volumes which they held in their hands, were crowds of figures, which to the bewildered vision of the young man seemed incapable of
